Love Song(95)

“Are you sure you’re not hung up on this boy? Because… That was a lot of passion.”

“Trust me, it is not passion for Isaac. I don’t have feelings for him anymore. I haven’t thought about him romantically in months.”

We head back to the house for lunch, which is a chaotic affair since we’ve still got a full house, every bedroom occupied and the boathouse jammed to the gills. There are so many people that we need both the dining room table and the one on the deck to accommodate everyone.

I’m at the outside table next to Beau’s sister Kate, polishing off my burger, when I get a text from Little Spencer.

I glance at Wyatt, who’s sitting a few chairs down from me. “Little Spencer says hi.”

“Did they go back to New York?” he asks as he reaches for his water glass. “We haven’t seen ’em in a while.”

“No. End of August, I think. They’ve just been busy. I’m going over there next week to record the Darlie episode with them.”

“These Spencers,” my dad says to Wyatt. “They’re really not creeps?”

“No, they’re just fucking weird,” Wyatt answers, and the Golden Boys break out laughing.

Tara, of course, is draped over AJ’s lap, but that doesn’t stop her from checking out Wyatt every chance she gets, which annoys me. Yes, he looks delicious today—eating lunch shirtless will do that—but this girl can keep her eyes to herself, thank you very much. She’s got her own gorgeous boyfriend to ogle. And I mean gorgeous. Any son of people as beautiful as Jake and Brenna Connelly is destined to be stunning, but AJ surpasses expectations with his bottomless brown eyes, chiseled features, and dark hair that always falls so artfully on his forehead.

“I love this podcast idea,” Gigi pipes up, joining the conversation. “You should do more than a guest episode, Blakey. Do you realize how much money people are making with podcasts these days?”

“Bullshit,” AJ says dubiously.

“It’s true,” she argues. “You can make a killing, especially if you offer a video version. My friend Diana started a cheerleading channel—her videos are like a day in the life of a cheer coach kind of thing, and she also does a weekly podcast for it. She has over two million subscribers and earns four or five figures per video.”

My dad whistles. “Jeez.” He glances at me. “What are you waiting for, sweet pea? We’re a podcasting dynasty now.”

I roll my eyes. “Let’s see how this guest episode goes first.”

“Fine,” he grumbles, then scrapes back his chair.

“Where are you going?” I ask.

“Inside to make after-lunch cocktails. Who wants some LMD?” Dad asks the group, and Wyatt chokes mid-sip, spewing water all over his chin.

I diligently avoid his gaze because I know I’ll bust out in laughter if I do.

“You okay there?” Gigi asks her twin.

“Fine.” He coughs and wipes his face.

“You sure?” Beau says, leaning around AJ so he can grin at Wyatt. “Because from where I’m sitting, you’re drinking water. You realize there’s beer here, right?”

“God forbid I might want to hydrate,” Wyatt says.

“No, Beau’s right,” Gray chimes in, frowning. “You haven’t gotten wasted once since we got here.”

“What, we’re not cool enough for you anymore?” AJ cracks.

“You were never cool enough for me,” Wyatt answers frankly.

“You’re hardly smoking too,” Gigi suddenly says, eyeing him curiously.

“Trying to quit,” he says with a shrug.

Gray snorts. “Since when?”

Another shrug. “Since I heard chicks don’t love it.”

I clamp my teeth over my lip to keep the big, dumb smile off my face. God. He means me. I thought he wasn’t smoking because he was too lazy to drive to town to buy cigarettes. The realization that he stopped for me has my heart soaring like a helium balloon.

I help clean up the mess left over from lunch, then pop upstairs to pee and change into a swimsuit. The girls and I wanted to sunbathe for a while, but that plan changes when a message from Wyatt pops up.

SONGBOY

Come take a nap with me.



I abandon the bikini on the bed and slip out the door, my bare feet scampering in the direction of the blue room.

Like I said, I can’t deny this man a thing.





Chapter 34


WYATT





I OPEN MY EYES TO find the muted wash of afternoon light coming in through the window. Blake is curled up against me, her ass nestled against my groin, her arms trapping my hand against her chest.

Fuck, sleep feels nice.

I never slept properly before this summer in Tahoe, and it’s like someone who’s been deprived of a vital sense suddenly getting it. Before Blake, my mind kept racing and racing, especially at night, stretching those quiet hours into forever. Now, it feels like someone turned down the volume in my head. The noise is still there if I really listen to it. But I’d rather listen to Blake’s steady breathing and the barely audible noises she makes in her sleep.

And it scares the hell out of me, because I can’t lie to myself anymore. I can’t pretend anymore.