Chapter 3 Fireworks At Rosewater
Fireworks At Rosewater
Rosewater looked like money had decided the lake needed better lighting.
The whole point gleamed under the July sun: white railings, polished dock boards, blue flags snapping in the breeze, market umbrellas lined up like someone had measured the shadows with a ruler.
Music rolled from hidden speakers and vibrated under my shoes before I even stepped off the path.
Boats were tied three deep at the slips, their hulls bright against Sapphire Lake, and the terrace was already crowded with people who looked like they'd been born knowing where to stand for photos.
The Fourth had arrived.
We came in as a group because Bella said arrivals mattered, and she was right.
Frank led us up from the lot in a clean Brewster Bay polo, looking proud and mildly suspicious of every piece of Rosewater landscaping.
Bella walked beside him in a blue dress that made her look calmer than I knew she felt.
Jeremy and Grace followed close enough to be included but far enough that Jeremy could pretend not to be impressed.
Sally had sunglasses pushed into her hair and her phone already in hand.
Sam walked next to her, trying for casual and failing because Rosewater on the Fourth was a lot to take in.
That mattered more than I wanted to admit.
We weren't sneaking into Rosewater as the poor relations from across the lake.
We were walking in as the Brewster family, plus the two people close enough to us that nobody bothered making a distinction.
Grace at Jeremy's side. Sam with Sally's shoulder brushing his every few steps.
Bella and Frank up front with the kind of quiet dignity that made me proud enough to stand a little straighter.
I was somewhere in the middle, white linen shirt already sticking to my back, beer-sweat humidity rising off the lake, every nerve in my body aware that Brewster Bay had been able to control its own angles two days ago.
Rosewater didn't give a damn about my angles.
"Damn," Sam said under his breath. "This is the VIP section of the lake."
Sally glanced at the terrace, then at him. "Try not to look like you've never seen matching umbrellas before."
"I've seen umbrellas."
"Not like that."
He looked again. "Okay, fair."
The smell hit all at once: sunscreen, citrus drinks, charcoal smoke from the grilling station, expensive perfume, lake water, hot wood, and the faint metallic bite of fireworks waiting somewhere out of sight.
Bodies moved everywhere. Delta Omega girls clustered near the pool in bright tops and cutoffs.
Kappa Rho women owned the terrace closest to the water, sunglasses up, drinks cold, their attention loose until our group crossed the invisible line where guests became something to watch.
Rosewater regulars drifted between the bars and dock stairs, older couples, boat guys, summer people with money and opinions.
Lake guys leaned along the rail with beers in hand, pretending they weren't scanning the crowd for the same thing everyone else was.
Me.
Or not just me.
The women.
The comment from Thursday had been sitting under my skin since Brewster Bay's golden-hour post went up.
I had seen the shorthand. The easy public label.
The way strangers could reduce six women and one messy, honest thing into a phrase catchy enough to spread.
Now I could feel that phrase moving through the party without being spoken yet, like a rumor with its hand on the door.
People turned as we stepped onto the terrace.
Not all at once. Not dramatically. But enough.
Eyes flicked to Frank's logo, Bella's smile, Sally's phone, Sam's grin, then me.
A Kappa Rho girl tilted her phone toward her friend.
A Delta whispered behind a red cup. One guy by the lower rail looked me up and down and mouthed something to his buddy that made the buddy look over fast.
"Dude," Sam muttered. "They're already talking about you."
"I noticed."
"Your face says you noticed too hard."
Sally slipped between us long enough to hand Sam a drink from a passing tray before he reached for one. "Let him suffer. It builds character."
Sam accepted the drink without looking at her, like the handoff had been practiced. "I have character. Nash needs a warranty."
"Both of you are very helpful," I said.
"We know," Sally said.
James Rose found us before the crowd could decide how bold it wanted to be. He crossed the terrace in a crisp white shirt and khaki shorts, silver hair catching the sun, smile genuine as he gripped Frank's hand and pulled him into a half hug.
"Brew," James said. "Good to see you here."
"Wouldn't miss it," Frank said. "Place looks incredible."
"Tina has been terrifying the staff for three weeks."
"Then it's going to be perfect," Bella said.
Tina appeared like she'd heard her cue, cool and elegant in linen, her smile warming when she saw Bella. She kissed Bella's cheek, squeezed Grace's arm, and then turned that Rosewater welcome on the rest of us.
"Sally, sweetheart," she said. "Sam, I'm glad you came."
Sam blinked like he wasn't used to Rosewater mothers remembering his name. "Thanks, Mrs. Rose."
"Tina," she corrected.
Sally leaned toward Sam. "Everyone gets one correction. After that, she throws you in the lake."
Tina's mouth twitched. "Only if I'm wearing flats."
Then she turned to me with a look that saw more than my shirt and smile.
"Nash," she said. "You look like you're bracing for impact."
I huffed a laugh. "That obvious?"
"A little." Tina's hand touched my arm, maternal and calm. "Enjoy yourself tonight. You've earned that much."
James nodded toward the lake. "Brewster Bay is looking good online. Those sign photos made half my staff ask when they could come over on a night off."
"That was mostly Poppy," I said.
"I assumed," James said, amused. "That girl could sell sunlight to July."
Tina's gaze moved past me toward the crowd. "Luna's around here somewhere. She was trying very hard not to look like she was watching the entrance."
"Sounds like Luna," I said.
Tina smiled wider. "Go find your people when you're ready."
Your people.
The words landed warmer than I expected. James and Tina moved on to greet Jeremy properly, and the terrace swallowed us into party noise: laughter, glass clinks, music, sandals on dock boards, boat horns, phones chirping with story replies.
Sally moved to my side again, eyes on the crowd. Sam stood just past her, scanning with a grin that didn't quite hide the little bruise of envy beneath it.
"What?" I asked him.
He lifted one shoulder. "Nothing. Just thinking the lake has been waiting to see if the photos were false advertising."
"And?"
He looked around at all the people pretending not to watch. "If the girls show up the way I think they're going to show up, nobody's getting a refund."
Sally laughed first, quick and bright. Sam glanced at her like the laugh mattered more than the joke. He looked away a second later, too fast.
I almost caught it.
Then a group of Kappa Rho girls near the bar all looked toward the entrance at once, and the air shifted again.
The party wasn't waiting for fireworks yet.
It was waiting for the shape around me to form.
I took the drink someone handed me, cold condensation running over my fingers, and kept my eyes on the moving crowd. Kit was here somewhere. Luna was here. Poppy, Vina, Lucy, Bristol. Six different kinds of trouble, all walking into a stage I didn't control.
Rosewater glittered under the sun, expensive and hungry.
I squared my shoulders and stepped farther into it.
***
Kit found me before I found her.
One second I was at the edge of the terrace trying to look like a man enjoying a party, and the next her hand landed at the small of my back, warm through the linen, familiar enough that my body answered before my head did.
She pressed herself into my side, blonde hair loose over her shoulders, white sundress skimming a bikini I knew better than the crowd deserved to guess.
"There you are," she said.
"Here I am."
Her eyes flicked over my face. "You look like you're waiting for a judge to call your name."
"Feels possible."
Kit smiled and rose on her toes. "Then give them evidence."
She kissed me in the middle of Rosewater's terrace.
Not a peck. Not a cautious public hello.
A real Kit kiss, soft at first, then warmer when my hand found her waist and I stopped pretending I didn't want to pull her closer.
She tasted like lemonade and gloss and summer heat.
People saw. I knew they saw. A laugh popped from somewhere near the bar, not mean, more delighted than anything.
A phone lifted, then lowered when Kit didn't flinch.
She pulled back and kept her hand on my side.
"See?" she said. "You survived."
"Barely."
"Good. Barely is still honest."
She didn't say more than that. She didn't need to. Her thumb moved once under the hem of my shirt, skin on skin, a private reminder delivered in public. No speech. No lecture. Just Kit standing beside me like the first answer to any question the lake might ask.
Luna came from the lower deck, and Rosewater seemed to recognize her before I did. She moved through the crowd with home-ground ease, pale blue dress brushing her thighs, blonde hair bright in the lowering sun, her smile softening when she saw Kit tucked into my side.
James stood twenty feet away, talking with a couple near the drink station. Tina was beside him. They both saw Luna cross to me.
Luna didn't slow down.
She stepped into my free side, took my hand, and laced her fingers through mine in full view of her parents, Kappa Rho, Delta Omega, lake guys, servers, and anyone else trying to build a story out of the way we stood.
"Hey, Brewster," she said.
"Hey, Sundance."
Her grip tightened at the nickname. She glanced at Kit, and whatever passed between them was warm enough to make the crowd irrelevant for a second.