“Everyone knows that rule.” He flashes me one of his cheeky grins and opens the sliding glass door so I can put the cake outside.
I’m about to tell him exactly what I think of his little rule when my foot catches on the step, and the cake slides from my arms.
My heart jumps up to my throat, but a pair of familiar hands reach out and steady both me and the box. My gaze travels up until it lands on my preppy, polo shirt–wearing ex. My stomach knots, and I’m stuck staring at him and working through too many non-Summer-approved lines in my head until I finally settle on, “Hey…”
CHAPTER 19
Eddie
The preppy crew-cut guy smiles at Finley in that I’ve-seen-you-naked way, and my eyebrows shoot up.
“That could have been very bad,” Finley finally says.
Preppy dude grins. “Where do you want this?”
“Oh…” She looks around like she hasn’t planned it all out already—she recited all the table purposes to me last night when we set up. “Uh, over here, I think.”
She leads him across the yard to the designated cake table, and I turn to Sam. He leaves me hanging for several seconds, enjoying the power. “Since you and my daughter are just friends, I guess it’s not a secret.”
“What’s not a secret?”
He nods toward the dude in the pink polo. “That’s Jason. Finley’s high school boyfriend. He lives next door.”
“I thought Grandma lived next door?”
Sam points to the house on the right. “Other next door.”
“Huh.” I step closer to the pool and tug my shirt off. I already promised the quiet twin I’d swim with them. “Convenient.”
“Yeah, until they break up and Fin spends nearly a year hoping it’ll work out again.” Sam sighs. “I think he might be dating someone and hasn’t broken the news to her.”
I squint in the sunlight and glance out at Finley, who does in fact resemble a girl wanting the attention of this particular guy. A mix of jealousy and sympathy washes over me. “How long did they date?” I ask Sam.
“Four years.”
Four years? Jesus. Wait, I don’t have any right to be jealous…right? Just friends. Definitely not naked friends.
“Eddie!” Braden shouts. “Do a cannonball!”
I prepare to run and jump in the pool, but Finley breaks eye contact with pretty boy and lifts a hand to stop me. “Be careful where you jump. It’s not a wide pool.”
I point a finger at her. “Nice job. You used my technique, didn’t you?”
While I’m in the pool with the boys, people start showing up. Lots of people. Some are kids, some are high school friends of Finley’s, and many are entire families. I can’t help looking around and guessing who knew Finley’s family when it was still whole, still complete with a mom and a dad who could walk. Maybe everyone knew them back then. Maybe I’m the only one here who had to put the pieces together himself by looking at family photos on the wall. And despite our casual relationship, part of me wants to know more, like what happened when Fin found out about the accident, who was driving, how bad were Sam’s injuries? Obviously, he was left in a wheelchair, but he gets around so well and has such a great attitude. But I can tell Finley is past all this; she’s had years to digest and accept. It’s not fair for me to come in here and drill her for details, just because I’m a little curious. I had a hard enough time asking her the few questions I have asked.
Soon, the pool is packed, and I’m making my way out, grabbing the towel Finley gave me last night. The scent of grilled hot dogs and baked beans is heavy in the air as Sam and Grandma spread food out onto every empty table. I’m about to dry off, grab a plate, and head for the biggest food table. But then a blond in a bright-pink bikini strolls right past me. And not just any blond but the girl I spent the night with less than two weeks ago. My heart picks up speed. I’m so caught off guard by this barely clothed Finley—when did she change?—that I don’t notice the tall brunette in platforms heading toward Jason until Sam bumps me from behind and nods in their direction. Worry drifts over his face.
We can’t hear what’s being said across the yard, but we don’t need to hear. Jason introduces the brunette to Fin, whose smile is about as believable as sardine-flavored ice cream at McDonald’s. I don’t exactly have a solid plan, but I drop my plate onto the table and head across the yard as backup. That mix of jealousy and sympathy returns, only this time, the sympathy is dominant. My hand slides into Finley’s, and I give it a squeeze. She snaps around to look at me.
“Hey.” I lean in like I’m kissing her cheek and whisper, “Need some help?”
She swallows, her eyes already glossy, but gives me a small nod.
I stick a hand out to Jason. “Eddie Wells.”
“Jason…” he says, his gaze darting between me and Fin. He gives the brunette a quick look too. “And this is Zoe. We, uh, go to school together. In Texas.”
He brought a girl back from Texas? Definitely a bad sign.
Zoe introduces herself, the southern accent thick and syrupy. I release Finley’s hand and slide my fingers across her bare back. She jumps when my hand reaches her hip but covers her surprise by pretending to swat a fly on her stomach.
I lean down—so there are some selfish motives to this rescue mission—and plant a kiss on her bare shoulder. “Your dad is looking for you. Something about needing more ketchup.”
“Right.” Finley nods, her cheeks bright pink. “Ketchup. I should go take care of that.”
Jason’s forehead wrinkles. He’s still looking at me. “Oh…are you guys—”
“Yes,” Finley and I both say together, then she turns around to leave, calling, “Nice meeting you, Chloe.”
I follow her inside through the laundry room. “Her name is Zoe, not Chloe.”
“I know that.” Finley shuts the laundry room door and leans against it, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
I hang back and give her a moment to process, watching her eyes turn glossy all over again. “Fun party, huh?”
She squeezes her eyes shut, and when a couple tears leak out, she swipes them away quickly. “God, I’m an idiot.”
“Hey…” I rest my hands on her shoulders. “Don’t cry, okay?” I half expect her to fall apart even more—this has happened to me on several occasions when I’ve said those words to girls at school—but she nods.
“You’re right. I need to be okay.” She shakes her head. “Or at least give the appearance of okay.”
She pushes the door open again and pulls me by the hand outside, lacing our fingers together. I open my mouth to question the deliberate touching—you know, ’cause we aren’t naked friends anymore—but Finley turns to me and says, “Good thing I brought a hot model as my date for the party, right?”
I stop, holding both of us in place. “Wait, I’m not—I mean—”
“Not what? A model? Yes, you are. We did Marc Jacobs together.” Finley lifts an eyebrow, challenging me. “What else are you, Eddie Wells? A college student? A guy who sleeps on people’s balconies?”
“That was only one time,” I point out. But her question sinks in further than I expect it to. She’s right. I’m not at Princeton for the summer intensive, and I don’t want to be there in the fall. I sure as hell don’t want to be a model for very long. I don’t even really want to be one right now. I hadn’t even planned on telling anyone about it, that’s for damn sure. I’ve been so focused on the immediate, on fixing the shit storm I created months ago and not becoming my father that I haven’t really let myself figure out what I do want to become.
“Relax,” Fin says, breaking me out of my own head. “I’m not going to say anything you don’t want me to.”
I force a grin and let my gaze wander slowly over her. “Good thing I brought a hot model as my date…”
“Cute.” Finley rolls her eyes, but
she smiles, which is much better than the tears in the laundry room. “Obviously, we know so much about each other.”
Jason is watching us from across the backyard. I lean close to Finley and whisper, “I know plenty about you. I know you have a mole right here”—I brush my thumb over her hip and slip it under the material of her swimsuit—“and that you’re ticklish here…” I slide my fingers down her spine to the lowest part of her back. Her eyes meet mine, and she holds my gaze, distracted from our previous conversation.
I’m about to share a few more details I acquired from our one night together, but two little kids with squirt guns run between us. She narrows her eyes at me, pointing an accusatory finger. “No more of that Mr. Smooth Guy stuff.”
I snort back a laugh. Mr. Smooth Guy? That is so not me. But I guess Finley wouldn’t know that. She only knows Eddie Wells, model, mysterious guy with secret reasons for escaping the hold of his wealthy family.
Okay, so I sound like a douche. Great.
CHAPTER 20
Finley
“You okay?”
I drop the wet towel I’d been folding, startled by my dad’s appearance behind me. “Yeah, why?”
Dad’s gaze follows mine as he looks through the sliding glass doors out at the back patio and pool.
My face flushes, and I make a bad attempt at covering the fact that I was just staring at Eddie. More specifically, Eddie pulling himself out of the pool, preparing to take another turn in the cannonball contest he’s entered with my brothers, despite it being dark out now and the last guest having left an hour ago. I opted out of leaving with some of my friends, going out with them. They looked a little too eager to rehash the Jason-has-a-new-love thing and way too curious about Eddie for me to survive lying through that type of inquisition. And it would be lying. Because we’re not really a thing.
“Do it again!” Braden shouts while treading water in the deep end.
“Jason,” Dad prompts. “And his plus one. How are you taking it?”
The hurt and confusion from earlier today returns. “Right. That.”
“Let me ask you this.” Dad’s wearing one of his rare serious expressions. “What did you expect to happen today when you saw Jason again?”
I sink down into the family room chair and sigh. “I don’t know. I just thought maybe…”
“Maybe he’d be here for you?” he finishes when I can’t.
I shake my head, still not sure. “Not exactly. Just that it would be okay if he was here for me. But he wasn’t. He’s not.”
“Because it’s over?”
I nod and force myself to say those words out loud. “Because it’s over.”
Dad pats my knee, his familiar silly grin returning. “Well done, honey. Tomorrow, we’ll move on to phase two.”
“Phase two?” I wait for him to answer, but Connor and Braden open the sliding door, both dripping wet.
“Fin, we have to do our thing.” Braden tugs at my hand.
Connor has a big blanket in his arms. I can barely see his face behind it. “Yeah, our thing…remember?”
It takes me a few seconds to recall last summer when the boys turned five. We’d laid in the grass after their party, staring at the stars while I made up stories about moms who went to live as princesses in the sky while they watched over their family. It wasn’t easy for me to talk about my mom like that—she is very real to me and very fantastical to my brothers—but I could tell it was important to them. So I told them it could be a birthday tradition, as in once a year. I never thought they’d remember.
Eddie appears by the door, dripping wet, a towel around his waist. “Is it time for the thing? I heard it’s time.”
I crack a smile. Guess it’s time for the thing.
• • •
Connor is passed out, curled up against my side, and Braden is snoring with his head down by my feet and his feet kicking my stomach lightly.
Beside Braden, Eddie tucks an arm behind his head and yawns. “No offense, but I think the ‘princess turned accountant keeping count of all the unauthorized stars’ story was a bit of a snooze. For them, of course. I was enthralled by it.”
I reach across my brother’s feet and smack Eddie lightly in the chest. “Yeah, it was the story that put them to sleep. Not the fact that it’s three hours past bedtime and they swam for most of the day.”
“Okay, maybe that contributed.”
I return to lying back and staring up at the sky, enjoying the calm rhythm of four different breaths mingling together, the warmth of Connor and Braden’s bodies serving as a blanket, and the softness of the actual blanket beneath us. I follow a path of stars, connecting one bright-white dot to another until I’m practically in a trance.
“Your necklace,” Eddie says, and my fingers immediately land on the cross against my chest. “Is that—I mean, do you—are you like…”
“Religious?” I suggested. “A little. My family is Catholic. I believe in God. Heaven and hell. I believe things happen for a reason often involving a higher power. But it’s not something I think about often.” Mostly just when I think about my mom and where she is now.
Eddie nods like this makes sense to him. “I have a friend who’s Catholic. It’s like that for her too.”
I want to ask more, ask about this mysterious female friend of Eddie’s and exactly what he means by it “being like that for her too,” but then I decide the comfortable silence we’ve been in is more appealing right now. And for a few minutes, that’s exactly where we end up.
“Jason asked me how we met,” Eddie says.
The cool night air along with the scent of grass and sound of tree frogs returns. I turn my head away from the sky and look at Eddie. “What did you tell him?”
His way-too-intense blue eyes meet mine. “I told him we met at a party.”
“The truth.” I turn back to the sky, surprised at how simple that answer became. “I’m not usually this pathetic—”
“I don’t think you’re pathetic,” Eddie says, his voice low and filled with depth that I’m certain now is keeping me coming back for more.
“It’s just been confusing for me. Last summer, things were okay with us, but then he got more and more distant and…” I clear my throat, determined to be cool about this. “Anyway, I haven’t seen him since we broke up.”
Eddie starts humming an unfamiliar tune and then eventually adds lyrics that are ridiculous and all about “The Boy Next Door.” I laugh so hard, my entire body is shaking. “Of course. You’re hot, you play the piano, and you can sing. No wonder my dad has such a crush on you.”
“Just your dad?” Eddie wiggles his eyebrows. “Who was that girl staring at me while I climbed out of the pool?”
“My insane twin who often makes poor dating choices.” The grin falls from his face, and he closes his eyes. Guilt washes over me. “Not that you’re a bad choice—”
“I’m definitely a bad choice.” Eddie rolls over and looks up at the sky. I stay silent, waiting for him to explain, but instead, he changes the subject. “Earlier, when you said that thing about me being a model and basically nothing else—”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I argue.
“No, you were right. I spent so much time trying to fix—trying to not be something, that now, I don’t know what I want to do. Is that weird?” He looks at me again, like my answer is super important to him. “Typical rich kid whining about Dad’s plans for him, right?”
“I don’t think that at all.” I shake my head. “I was supposed to spend the year figuring out my life plan, but now it’s summer again, and I haven’t applied to any colleges. I’m getting some jobs but not a ton. And what I really want to do is—”
I stop myself before admitting the truth. But Eddie hangs on this, propping up on one elbow. “What?”
For a second, I want to tell him the t
ruth, but I hold it in and instead say, “Find a nice boring boyfriend with stability who won’t need me to save him from himself.”
Eddie lifts an eyebrow. “Boring, huh? That’s your type?”
The dozen or so times he found an excuse to touch me this afternoon come rolling back. Even with little boy feet and two tiny bodies between us, I feel like his hands are everywhere all at once. “Yep, that’s my type. Boring and predictable and every synonym for those two words.”
“That’s understandable.” Eddie slides closer and leans over me.
My heart picks up speed, my body betraying our just-friends clause. “Good, because I would hate for you to get the wrong idea. I mean, your show tune knowledge and cannonball skills alone are enough to…”
Eddie picks up a lock of my hair. Slowly, he slides it between his fingers. “You’re not my type either. Too pretty. Too nice. Too smart. Too perfect. I’d hate to go after someone I could actually fall for…”
I’m sure he can hear my heart; it’s so loud. Each beat feels like a million seconds happen between it, and the world around us moves in slow motion. My gaze shifts from Eddie’s hand in my hair to his face as it moves closer and closer—
Dad clears his throat, and Eddie jumps, scooting so far from me, he’s hanging off the blanket now. “Just came out here to see if my kids were ready for bed.”
Eddie hops up to his feet to help but can’t seem to make eye contact with Dad. “I got this.”
Dad and I both watch him scoop Connor up off the blanket so carefully he barely stirs. There’s a moment where Eddie looks down at my dad, and I can sense what he’s thinking, that he can’t carry his own kid to bed and how bad that must suck, but luckily, he keeps the sympathetic looks to himself and asks, “You want one?”
Dad reaches out to take Connor. “Sure.”
Eddie repeats the careful picking up with Braden, then he strides across the yard and is inside before Dad has had a chance to figure out how to wheel himself and keep Connor, who is slumped against him, asleep. He nods in Eddie’s direction and then glances at me. “So what’s his story?”