CHAPTER 24
There are plenty of good hiding places throughout the property. I’ve exhausted most of them playing sardines throughout my childhood. But there’s one spot that’s perfect for Millie and me. A place no one will think we chose to hide. We’re back at the fire pit, everyone’s eyes are closed, and the counting begins. I motion for Millie to follow me. Running down the lawn, I get to the edge of the sand, then stop, taking my shoes off and carrying them in my hand. We hobble along the line that separates the grass from the sand, doing our best to keep footprints from forming behind us. I don’t want to lead anyone to our spot.
At the southern tip of our property is a cove. We hardly go there since we have plenty of beach to enjoy without venturing this far, especially as the grass doesn’t come out this way. I can no longer hear the group counting. Diving into the protected inlet, I scoot until my back hits a rock. Millie climbs in right after me. It’s easily ten degrees cooler down here. I’m grateful it’s a low tide at the moment, otherwise we’d be getting wet with every wave that rolls ashore on top of the chilly temperature.
“Do you know every nook and cranny of this place?” she asks, settling next to me on the sand.
“I do.”
“Is summer your favorite season?” Millie whispers, rubbing her hands over her arms.
“Yes. What’s your favorite season?”
Millie shivers. “Fall. I love the cooler weather and changing leaves.”
“Are you freezing? We can hide somewhere else, or give ourselves up.”
She adamantly shakes her head. “We’re not losing over a few measly goosebumps.”
She shivers again.
“Come here.” Tugging Millie toward me, I tuck her into my side, my arm going around her back.
“Thank you.”
She nestles in, resting her head in the crook between my shoulder and chest. Her hand covers my heart. An expected swelling of peace fills me at the same time my pulse spikes at her nearness.
I’ve missed this.
I’ve missed having someone to hold. Someone to talk to. Someone to joke around with and go do things with. The ache of missing Jen is still there. I doubt it will ever completely go away, but with Millie in my arms right now, it’s less than usual. This feeling is new and totally shocking. And not something I ever thought possible after Jen. It doesn”t mean I’m ready to change our fake status to real, but it’s something to consider in the future.
“Tell me your favorite summer activity,” I say, needing her to distract me. My fingers are dying to trace a pattern up and down her arm.
“We didn’t have a lot of money growing up, and both my parents worked full time. My grandma babysat us until I turned ten; then it was up to me to watch my sister until one of my parents got home from work. We ran around the backyard a lot, played in the sprinklers, and rode our bikes to a playground down the street. That’s about it.”
There’s nothing wrong with spending your summer like that. But she was in charge of her younger sibling and herself when she was only ten? I’m not sure I even knew how to make myself a sandwich at that age. “You never went swimming or to an amusement park?”
“Swimming, yes.” Her head shakes against my chest. “Amusement parks, no.”
That same feeling I had in the ice cream shop hits me in the gut. I’m glad I get to help her cross off a bunch of firsts, because all I want to do is give her the experiences she never had the opportunity to do as a kid.
“What about as an adult?”
Millie’s shampoo smells fruity. I inhale, liking the soft, subtle scent.
“I’ve been too busy working and going to school.”
I squeeze her arm. “I’m glad you came this summer.” Meeting her and becoming her friend has been a highlight.
“Me too.”
“If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go and why?”
“Hmm.”
She’s quiet.
I don’t interrupt; instead, I soak in this moment. Stitching the feelings inside me into memory. Every interaction with her shines another ray of brightness into my life. Now that I have it, I don’t want to let it go. Good thing we live close and can remain friends after our charade is over.
Finally, she says, “I’ve always wanted to go to see the tulips in the Netherlands.”
“You should go someday. They’re beautiful.”
She tilts her chin up, staring into my eyes. “You’ve been?”
I hold her gaze, wishing to see her golden-brown eyes in the dark cove. “When I was fifteen, my dad went over there for work. At the time, I was planning on joining the family business, so I went with. We stopped by the tulip fields after our meetings were over for the day.”
“Why did you decide to teach history instead of working at the firm?”
“Funny enough, that trip changed my mind. The meetings were so boring. All I cared about was getting outside and exploring the history of the city. I’ve always loved stories, something I inherited from my mom. We were sitting in a board room—that looked the exact same as dozens of others I’d been in—and I remember thinking I couldn’t do this the rest of my life. I didn’t care if I made less money than my dad or grandpa. I panicked, picturing a future of board rooms, endless negotiations, and dealing with clients I couldn’t care less about.”
“Are you happy with that decision?”
I nod. “I am. I worry who I’d be today if I forced myself to become a lawyer like my dad. Emerson has the knack for it. I’m not sure what Henry will end up doing. He’s too busy living college life to its fullest at the moment. He probably doesn’t feel the shackles of responsibility yet.”
“What’s your favorite country or time in history to study?”
I moan. “That’s like asking a mom who’s her favorite kid.”
“That hard to narrow down, huh?”
I shift, stretching one leg out. “I teach World War II. The Holocaust and Stalin to be specific. But honestly, I love diving into any ancient civilization. People are complex. There’s so much we can learn from the past. Right now, I’m focusing on Asia.”
“If it just wasn’t so boring to learn,” she groans.
I laugh (keeping it quiet so we stay hidden a little while longer). “Or you haven’t had the right teacher yet.”
Millie’s hand slides from my chest to my abs. My stomach tightens and tingles jump around in there. I suck in a breath.
“Would you teach me?” Millie asks.
She has no idea what her hand is doing to me on the inside. No one has touched me like this in over three years. “Yeah,” I barely get out.
“I look forward to our lessons, professor.”
So do I.