“No, that’s why I’m asking you,” she said. “All the love stuff, I guess. How much he means to me, blah blah blah.”
I laughed. “Yup. ‘Blah blah blah’ is where Shakespeare always started, too.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
IT WAS WEIRD, what letting go of a secret could do for you. At Grace’s house the next day, I felt lighter. As I typed up her cryptic notes, my fingers moved swiftly over the keyboard and I even caught myself humming. I’d made decent progress on her mailing list, too. I missed the beach vibe of Smokey’s, but this job was a better fit for me.
Only two things still weighed on my mind—making up with Ryan and figuring out Eliza’s vows, which I planned to ask Grace about. True, she was sixty and single, but I’d found more than a few phone numbers and male names among her many jottings. As a writer, she had a way of making the romance in her books feel real but still magical. I hoped she could help.
Grace was at her desk, but I could tell she wasn’t working. So far, nothing I’d typed up had been quite the gem she was looking for. She’d sit down, ready to go, wearing what I’d since learned was her lucky blue bathrobe over her clothes. But within moments, I’d hear her grumble. I knew that if I peeked in, her browser would be open to her latest addiction, celebrity blogs. She knew far more about the latest scandals than any sixty-year-old should.
I tapped lightly on the doorjamb and watched as Grace minimized an article on a TV star’s messy divorce. For some reason, she acted as though I would scold her for procrastinating. Actually, maybe I was supposed to be doing that?
“Grace, can I ask you something?”
“If it’s the secret to writing the great American novel, I can’t help you. I think I’m all tapped out.” She sighed.
“I’ll save that one,” I said, approaching her writing desk. She had a collection of chairs in the room, scattered along the wall with her bookcases. No two were alike. My beach house’s mix-and-match vibe was the product of my parents’ joint choices, but here the eclectic feel was all a product of Grace’s bizarre mind. I bet my mom would have liked her. Some chairs had ornately carved backs, while others were more modern and straight. Each one was upholstered with a different fabric—swirling paisleys, rich brocades, even one stitched all over with women’s silhouettes. I chose that one and pulled it closer to the desk, sitting down. “This is a life question.”
“Sexy one this time?”
“Not exactly, but romance related,” I said.
She rubbed her hands together eagerly.
“My sister Eliza is getting married, and she’s asked me to write, or help her write, her vows. All she gave me is a list of adjectives about her fiancé, and I’m not sure where to go from there.”
Grace sucked in air through her teeth. “Geez, sounds like you can start by drawing up the divorce papers for them instead. Adjectives are cheap.”
That seemed a bit out of line, especially coming from someone who didn’t even know Eliza and Devin. But before I could interrupt, she ranted on.
“When you’re crazy about someone, when you love someone, you should know what you love about them. Maybe some of it is inexpressible, because it goes beyond words. But you don’t have to be a poet to be able to tell someone that when you look at them, the world makes sense. Or that they bring laughter to your life, or make you want to be the best version of yourself. And some of that is just Hallmark card crap, but the reason they sell so many cards is that it rings true. If she wanted you to fluff up the vows she wrote with some pretty language, that’s one thing. But to write them? That’s trouble.”
“Er, well, thanks. That was helpful.”
She turned back to her computer, huffing angrily when she saw an open document with two or three half-written sentences typed on it. And beneath her computer, stained with coffee cup rings, were the pages of the short story I’d given her—their significance amounted to a coaster.
I didn’t want to take the advice of someone who obviously didn’t even care about anyone. I knew that Eliza loved Devin, and I’d probably be intimidated by the thought of telling someone how much I loved them, too. Hell, I was scared of just telling Ryan how much I liked him. But her line about looking at a person and having the world make sense—that was a keeper. I’d use that.
I shivered on my walk home, even though the night was a humid soup. My nerves were getting to me. I checked my phone again as I trudged up the stairs of the studio. Ryan hadn’t been totally incommunicado, but there’d been nothing since his text this morning: “Just checking in. Hope you’re well.” I hated that it felt like a business e-mail. I’d replied and said I was thinking about him. He hadn’t responded.
Telling him how wrong I’d been was not going to be fun. I thought about waiting until he got home from the restaurant later, but that idea felt stalkerish, and I knew that the longer I waited, the harder it would be.
I pulled my nicest sundress over my head, navy eyelet lace, and slipped on a pair of gold sandals that were uncomfortable, but did wonders for my tan. Thanks to the outing with Eliza, my hands and toes looked fresh in a shade of light pink. Then, annoying shoes and all, I hopped on my bike and pedaled to Landrys’ Restaurant.
Of course, there was a line out the door. I spotted Tea manning the hostess station. She looked wise beyond her years as she politely, but firmly, told an irritated man that the wait was forty-five minutes.
“Kate,” she said, noticing me. “What are you doing here? And why are you so dressed up?”
I grinned. “Because I’m an idiot. And it’s a long story. You’ll see.”
“Hey, where is she going?” the man asked as I practically skipped inside the restaurant. Now that I was here, this was happening, dinner rush or not.
I was a girl on a mission as I wove past the crowded tables and waiters weighed down with fresh seafood. Customers looked up at me with mixtures of curiosity and concern.
Ryan was in the open kitchen, an apron tied over his white T-shirt. He lifted a spoon of sauce to his lips and frowned as he tasted it. He turned to his cooks, gave directions, and then hurried to the prep station to add garnishes to a line of dinner plates. His focus and authority made him completely irresistible.
It was bad timing, but I couldn’t wait. I marched toward the kitchen. Becca was prepping a plate of fried clams and looked up at me quizzically. I smiled, probably like a maniac, and tapped Ryan on the shoulder. He spun around. “I told you, Danny, the sauce needs another bay leaf.”
When he saw that it was not Danny but me, his expression shifted to puzzled.
“Kate?” He took in my dress and my guided-missile look. It seemed like he knew what was about to happen because his confused look grew into a bemused grin.
I didn’t say anything. I just pulled him aside, away from the clattering of cookware and the scurrying of staff, to a corner near the pantry.
It wasn’t private by any means, but I was so glad to see him again, that I didn’t care if the hustle of the kitchen stopped behind us. And it did stop. We were the entertainment and our spot in the corner just meant I’d created a perfect vantage point for Ryan’s entire staff to see us.
Cooks stood still over burners and at the stainless steel counters, some of them with their spatulas and spoons held aloft, like they’d been frozen. Waiters carrying trays had stopped in their tracks. Grabbing the strings of his apron, I pulled him into me for a short, quick kiss. “So am I your girlfriend, or what?”
The entire kitchen burst into applause and cheers. Ryan’s brothers, Pete and Garrett, let out loud whoops. I caught Becca shaking her head at me but she was smiling, too.
The feeling was contagious. I laughed, right before Ryan pulled me in for a second, longer kiss.
“Just to make it official,” he said.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
WHAT HAPPENED AT Landrys’ didn’t stay at Landrys’. By the next mor
ning, I had a congratulatory text from Jessica, and she assured me that his off-the-market status was big news among Harborville’s single women. “I’ll need to start calling you Queen Ho-Bag,” she’d joked by text.
Ryan had come to my studio after getting off work, and slept over. Well, we didn’t exactly sleep. In the morning, we joined my family for breakfast, but not before he rolled me over in bed and kissed me softly on the cheek and made sure I’d go with him to Smokey’s Fourth of July party on the beach.
When she’d caught Ryan grabbing coffee in the kitchen, Eliza had teasingly joked, “God, Ryan, date enough Sommers sisters?”
Tea chimed in between bites of her avocado toast. “Yeah, I haven’t gotten to talk to you since your big show last night,” she said, smirking. “I can’t believe you disrespected my hostess station like that. No one disrespects the hostess station.”
“Your boss was okay with it,” I said, reaching for Ryan’s foot under the table.
“More than okay,” Ryan chuckled, rubbing his foot up my leg.
Tea rolled her eyes. “Gross. Anyway, Mr. Landry is really excited about the paintings I picked out. I’ll tell you more about it when you’re not making out.” She gave our legs a kick under the table. As she got up to clear her dish she gave me a quick hug, trying not to knock over my plate. Then she gave Ryan one, too. “I like this,” she said, pointing between the two of us like a relationship authority. It was weird to think that someday she’d have a boyfriend, too, that she wasn’t so much my little sister anymore, even if I’d always think of her that way.
Ryan laughed. “I think she’s one fifteen-year-old whose approval really means something,” he said.
“Fifteen going on fifty,” I agreed, liking the feel of Ryan as an honorary member of our family.
Smokey’s party was in full swing when we arrived at sunset. It spread out like a wonderland on the beach behind the shack, with mountains of food, barbecue pits, and colorful buckets with sweet and salty munchies strewn about. Tiki torches and twinkle lights extended down to the water, marking our territory. Rows of Adirondack chairs in red, white, and blue were set up for viewing the fireworks. My favorite thing about celebrating the Fourth on the Cape was the chance to see all the tiny fireworks spread out across the horizon as each little town put on their own show.
A tall, thin DJ, who didn’t look much older than Tea, stood on a raised platform cranking out some classic Americana. People danced and swayed in the sand, holding their cups aloft. I caught sight of Pete kicking around a hacky sack with his friends. Tea and Becca ran off to join them. Some of the Landrys’ restaurant crew saw Ryan and me together and lifted their cups in salute.
Eliza had stayed at home with my dad. Of course he’d been invited, but chose to stay out of the fray. He and my mom had always sent my sisters and I off to the fireworks by ourselves, eager for some alone time. Maybe it was comforting for him to sit with those memories, but I still wished we’d succeeded in getting him to come out. Eliza had seemed pretty chill about the whole thing, considering that Devin was unable to make it to the Cape for the Fourth. He had some out-of-town guests in the city, but Eliza had begged off heading to New York, claiming she had too much wedding stuff to do. She’d promised me that they’d watch fireworks from the porch, and I let it go. I just hoped that, by the wedding, Dad would be more a part of things.
“I’m glad you came to your senses in time for this party,” Ryan said with a sly grin, looping an arm around my waist, his fingers resting where my shirt lifted away from my shorts.
“Me, too,” I replied, leaning my head on his shoulder. Why had I resisted this? It felt magnificent to show the world, or at least the Harborville universe, that we were together. Attached at the hip, as it were. For the first time in our relationship, I could be with him and that was it—just be. Nothing could kill my bliss, as Smokey would say.
Smokey was the first to approach us. “I knew it,” he said. “And not just because I saw you guys kissing that day at the shack. That day you came for a job and your bike broke down, I thought, When some things fall apart, other things come together.”
I laughed as Ryan quirked an eyebrow. I didn’t even think Smokey had seen me that day.
“If you saw my beat-up bike, why didn’t you help me?”
“I knew the fates were already working on it,” he said, wiggling his fingers in the air like a two-bit magician. “Gimme some credit.”
“We’ll never doubt you again,” Ryan said, and gave Smokey a fist pound. He waved us off toward the rest of the party.
We greeted more people as a couple. There were tons of guests that Ryan knew better than I did, and the age range was an eclectic one. Smokey was a popular guy.
There was a tiki hut serving tropical cocktails along with several different kegs. I finally broke down and asked Ryan how Smokey could afford such a crazy party. He looked at me like I two heads. “You didn’t know that he’s the heir to some insane fortune? Never had to work a day in his life. He just loves being at the beach.”
I was so surprised, I laughed out loud. “No way. Am I the only person in Harborville that didn’t know that?”
“Maybe, but you’re even more adorable when you’re so oblivious,” Ryan said as he gave me a peck on my forehead and pulled me toward the drinks. We only got a few steps farther before he got pulled into a horseshoes game with some of the fishermen who supplied Landrys’. I wished him good luck and offered to get him a beer.
Jessica was talking to Aaron by one of the kegs. She held up a finger to him when I arrived. I knew from a text update that she’d called him out for allegedly flirting with a girl from New York, but it seemed like things were okay now. If feigning indifference was her strategy, it worked. Instead of looking annoyed, he seemed to be panting for Jessica’s return. She was wearing a white fringe bra top that showed an expanse of her flat, tan stomach and short red shorts that sank low on her waist. “So, good for you,” she told me, nodding in Ryan’s direction. “Does this mean you’re over your ex?”
I gave a guilty thought to the series of texts from Matt that I’d been ignoring. In one, he’d asked about the wedding, and if I knew what Eliza’s colors were so his tie wouldn’t clash. I’d have to tell him fairly soon that he was no longer my date.
“Yes, that’s definitely over,” I said, not wanting to go into detail.
“And how was Eliza with it? I see no scars from the catfight.”
“Surprisingly cool.” I nodded slowly. For all my worries, telling Eliza about Ryan had actually been really good for our relationship. At the nail salon, we’d talked, really talked, for what felt like the first time in ages.
“Well, bravo, girl. He’s a big catch in these parts,” Jessica said, sending a quick wink to Aaron.
“He’s not a fish,” I said, filling up two red cups. I was, however, somewhat smug. Was this how Eliza had felt, coming to all the Harborville parties on Ryan’s arm, knowing that everyone was noticing you?
“Well, his ex thinks he’s the only one in the sea,” Jessica said conspiratorially, pulling me farther away from the keg. “Ashley Miner. Queen Bee of Harborville High. I think she expected Ryan and her to get married and start popping them out. They dated for two years, I think. She does hair at Ships and Clips. I don’t see her here tonight, but maybe it’s because she had a panic attack over him dating a summer person.”
An ex? Ryan hadn’t mentioned an ex. Not that I really had talked that much about mine, either. The name didn’t sound all that familiar, but she would have been older than me. Maybe Eliza knew her.
I pictured someone who looked like Eliza, but with Jessica’s fashion sense. Someone more overtly sexy than me. With hair-styling skills. I couldn’t get over Ryan dating someone for two years. Though I supposed it was crazier if he hadn’t. What did I think, that as soon as summers ended, the Landrys and the rest of Harborville hibernated in boxes, w
aiting for the return of summer people?
“So, when did they break up?” I asked.
“Less than six months ago,” Jessica said. She looked at me seriously. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Morrison told me that, now that the secret’s out, Ryan’s told him that he’s totally into you. I mean, he said that in the dude way.”
Hearing that made my stomach jump. After our fight, I’d worried that Ryan had backslid with another girl, and I hoped it hadn’t been with this Ashley chick. But if he was telling his guy friends about me, I was probably just projecting my own insecurities. It’s not like I’d started texting with Matt when Ryan had been acting distant.
I nodded covertly at Aaron, who looked forlorn as he stood with a group of friends at the edge of the tiki hut, like he thought Jessica was ditching him. “Speaking of our boys, you’d better get back to yours.”
“Duty calls, poor me,” Jessica said with a grin, adding a swagger to her walk as she zeroed in on her date.
On my way back to Ryan, I noticed Becca and Garrett sitting in a pair of Adirondack chairs, their heads close together as they spoke intently.
I didn’t know the middle Landry brother that well, beyond the fact that he was a bit of a goofball, like Becca. My sister seemed to like whatever he was saying at the moment, because she threw her head back and laughed. I thought of the surprised look she’d given me in the restaurant and wondered if she had a secret of her own. Or maybe Garrett wasn’t really a secret at all, and I just hadn’t been spending enough time with Becca this summer. I’d have to make point of some sisterly bonding soon. But right now, the sky was darkening, and I wanted to stake out a spot for the fireworks with Ryan.
He was looking for me, too, and his face broke into a wide grin as we made our way toward each other. He’s so into me, I thought disbelievingly. And the thought didn’t make me scared in the slightest.
“I can’t believe this party,” Ryan said, taking his beer from me. “Do you know that the caterers were on Chopped? I’m totally geeking out. Do you think the owner will talk to me?”
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