One Golden Summer(64)

I promise I will.

“It sounds like this summer has been good for you,” Elyse says before we hang up. “You sound different.”

“I feel different,” I tell her. “I feel like I’ve woken up.”



* * *





Charlie and I spend our days together, floating on the lake, racing around in the boat, jumping from the rock. We discover a boulder on the other side of the boathouse, flat enough to lie on together, that’s very private. A secret spot. He leaves Nan and me to our sewing but comes back in the evenings for cards, puzzles, and one impassioned game of Monopoly. He’s as ruthless as a real estate mogul. We stay up long after Nan goes to sleep, talking until the moon hangs high above the water like a disco ball.

On Friday evening, I sit between Charlie’s legs on the boulder, looking over the water, my back resting on his chest. I turn my head to kiss him and find hesitation in his eyes. It’s often like this. He’ll pause for just a second, long enough that I know he is considering exercising restraint. But he never does. He’ll blink and press his mouth to mine with an urgency that’s almost staggering. Tonight, his lips move from my mouth to my shoulder as he draws lazy circles over my bathing suit top, then lower, with a maddeningly relaxed pace, slowing even further when I get close, until I’m shaking, almost in tears, whispering his name over and over.

We haven’t had sex. Charlie wants to take things slow, and I know it’s because he’s afraid of breaking this delicate thing we have. I won’t admit it, but it’s been kind of fun dragging it out. It’s sneaky and silly and just like I’m seventeen. Not that I was kissing anyone at seventeen.

But everything changes on Saturday. It’s Percy and Sam’s party, and things suddenly feel grown-up. I’ve pushed the adult world and the city aside, but now the city is coming to us.

I don my armor. I straighten my hair, securing it in a sleek ponytail at the nape of my neck, and it hangs to the middle of my back in a shining rope of auburn. I wear my tortoiseshell glasses and a black short-sleeved silk jumpsuit. I paint my lips and nails red.

When I examine my reflection in the mirror, I see a confident, stylish woman. The Alice I am when I’m shooting. But it feels like a mask.

“You should let your hair down,” Nan says as I’m buckling my sandals, the ones with a chunky heel and straps that wrap around my ankles in a way that is both complicated and decidedly sexy. They’re comfortable, and I have two pairs. I’m picky, but when I find something I love, I buy multiples. I go all in on everything, including footwear.

“Do you mean that literally?” I ask.

“No,” she says. “But now that you mention it, why do you have it pulled back so tight? You haven’t worn it like this all summer.”

“Does it look bad?”

“You look beautiful, Alice. You always do.”

“Thank you.” I unslouch my shoulders to mimic hers. “It would be a good night to use that phone.” I’ve written John’s number on a piece of paper and left it on the counter. “You’ll have privacy,” I add.

“We’ll see.”

I pour her a glass of scotch. “Here.” I set it on the table next to her chair. “Call your friend.”

I kiss Nan on the cheek and hoist my bag over my shoulder. I’m glad I offered to take photos. I need a camera in my hands tonight. I stride out the door with a confidence I don’t feel.

On the walk there, I focus on my breathing, on the crunch of pebbles beneath my feet, on the scent of pine that fills the evening air. But there’s a pit in my stomach I can’t get rid of. A house full of strangers. People who mean something to Charlie. And Charlie himself. We haven’t discussed how we’ll behave together. Am I supposed to pretend that I haven’t spent hours making out with him in the tree house?

I’m okay. It’s just a job.

I repeat it to myself, but it doesn’t feel true.

As I approach the house, I’m so nervous, I barely register my legs. I feel like a teenager in the worst way—self-conscious and terrified I’ll fade into the background. I pass cars parked along the side of the narrow road, and when I get to the Florek driveway, there are so many vehicles it’s like a parking lot.

The windows of the house are wide open, and music and laughter drifts out in greeting. Paper lanterns are strung everywhere. They crisscross over the path to the front door and drape the perimeter of the porch.

Percy answers before I knock.

“Oh my god, Alice!” She yanks me inside. “Hi! I almost didn’t recognize you. You look so different. In a good way, I mean. You look hot.” Her eyes expand. “I’m sorry, that was weird. I’m a little overwhelmed with all this.” She waves her arm around. Music plays, but it’s the volume of the crowd that’s deafening. Even the entrance is shoulder to shoulder.

“The party?”

“Yeah. But it also just really hit me on me on the drive up here today.” She leans closer like she’s telling a secret. “I’m having a baby. I’m going to be a mom.”

I laugh, feeling my anxiety ebb like it often does once I’m doing the thing instead of thinking about it. “That’s the rumor,” I say. “And thank you. You also look different. Also hot.”