“You said I could talk to her anytime I want.”
“I know,” I say. “But she’s literally dripping wet and she’s not going to want to stop what she’s doing.”
“You can’t keep her from me. It’s not right.”
“Brian, it’s a holiday.”
He’s silent, and in the background I hear someone speaking. It sounds like his mother, but I can’t make out what she’s saying.
“I want to talk to Maisie,” Brian says, a sharp edge to his voice.
“Fine.” I cross the yard to where the girls, and now Leo, are sticking their faces directly into the sprinkler stream. There’s no point in making small talk with him, so I don’t. I turn the phone in Maisie’s direction so she can see his face. “Maisie, Daddy wants to say hi.”
She runs over and waves at him. “Hi, Daddy! I’m very busy playing with my friends! Bye!”
As she scampers back to the sprinkler, I turn the phone around. Brian’s mouth is set in a hard line, and he looks angrier than I’ve ever seen him.
“You did this,” he says.
“No, Brian,” I say, keeping my voice level. “You did this. Every time you brought Maisie home early so you could play video games or hang out with your girlfriend, you sent the message that there were things more important than your daughter. And you called during a holiday celebration.”
I hear Rosalie speak up again off-screen, but I can’t understand what she says. He glances away for a beat, as though he’s listening, and suddenly the screen goes dark. The whole conversation leaves me unsettled. Why would he choose today to kick up a fuss about not speaking to Maisie? What was he trying to accomplish? I try to call him back, but the phone goes straight to voicemail.
“Hey.” Avery yanks me out of my head as she walks up with a red Solo cup in each hand. I’ve seen her briefly since the night of book club, when she caught Mason and me making out in the taproom, but I’ve been so busy getting ready for today that we haven’t had many chances to really talk. She offers me one of the cups. “Brought you a beer.”
“Thanks.”
“What’s going on right there?” she asks, touching her fingertip to the spot of tension between my eyebrows. “Everything okay?”
“Nothing worth talking about.”
“Does Mason have anything to do with it?”
“No,” I say, scanning the property until I spot him playing cornhole with Mike, Daniel, and Owen. “He’s great.”
“Not to put too fine a point on it, but I knew it.”
I laugh. “You did.”
“And I’ve been trying very hard not to ask you for details,” Avery says. “Daniel keeps reminding me that it’s none of my business.”
“I haven’t been in very many relationships, but in the past, I’ve spent a lot of time feeling stressed out because I wasn’t getting what I needed in … any way,” I say. “What I can tell you about my relationship with Mason is that he keeps my anxiety at bay, leaving lots of room for the good stuff.”
“That’s all I need to know,” she says.
“The yoga helps too,” I add, making her laugh.
“I don’t need to be the consolation prize.”
* * *
By dusk, the charcoal in the grill has burned down to a soft orange glow, and someone has built a fire in the pit. Mike and Owen break out boxes of bamboo sparklers for the kids. I hold my hand over Maisie’s as we touch the tip of her sparkler to one of the charcoal embers. She squeals with delight as the sparkler bursts into blue light and together we wave it around. Mali writes her name in the air. Lillie swishes her wrist like her sparkler is a fairy wand. James and John have a lightsaber duel. Keo holds five burning red sparklers at once, declaring himself a fire lord. Leo extends his sparkler to arm’s length and spins in a circle.
Maisie starts wearing down after eating a couple of toasted marshmallows, so I take her to the house for a nap. Her sleep pattern is going to be thrown off, but she’s never seen a fireworks display, and I don’t have the heart to deny her.
As I reach the bottom step, I notice Mason standing at the kitchen window that overlooks the dark, quiet side of the yard. I stand beside him, and he drops his arm around my shoulders.
“Hello, stranger,” I say. “You okay?”
“Mostly, but sometimes the memories come at me.”
“Today has been a lot. Do you want to skip the fireworks and chill while everyone else is gone?”
“Nah,” he says, kissing my temple. “That’s my favorite part.”
“I like your family.”
“They like you.”
“You’ve got your own little United Nations.”
Mason laughs. “True. Mike’s mom is Guyanese, and Didie’s parents came to the States from Laos. Dad always wants traditional picnic food on the Fourth of July, but the rest of our holiday meals are amazing. Just wait until Thanksgiving. You’ll see.”
I love the way he’s projected us months into the future, but I don’t want to get ahead of myself. Don’t want to get comfortable being this happy. “That sounds nice.”
“Are you okay?”
“I had some unnecessary drama with Brian earlier,” I say, not wanting to drag Mason into my domestic issues. But I can’t shake the feeling that there was more to that weird conversation than Brian wanting to have a friendly chat with Maisie.
“Gotcha,” Mason says. “And thinking about Thanksgiving is thinking too much.”
“Yeah.”
He faces me and rests his hand against my neck, his thumb stroking my cheek. “For the record, right here, right now, I would rather be with you than anyone in the whole world.”
“That’s a lot of people.”
“That’s what I’m saying.” The kiss he gives me is lingering and sweet. “We should probably rejoin the party, considering … it’s our party.”
Yōkai slinks into the room and jumps up onto the kitchen counter, something I’ve never seen her do. Even Mason looks surprised. She doesn’t rub herself against him—she hasn’t come close to that level of affection yet—but stares until he offers her a treat.
Outside, James, John, and Keo have graduated to setting off firecrackers, and I wonder out loud if we should confiscate them.
“It’s a rite of passage,” Mason says. “When Owen and I were their age, Dad gave us bottle rockets to keep us busy until the fireworks display.”
We rejoin the rest of the Brown family around the firepit, where they’re gathered in chairs, sharing family stories and laughing. Except for Avery and Daniel, the rest of the locals have gone home.
I take a seat beside Mason’s mother, who leans over and places her hand on top of mine. “He showed me the sunshine beer. I pretended to be so surprised.”
I laugh. “Did you taste it?”
“Oh yes,” she says. “I like it very much, but I like your hibiscus beer better.”
“This is the first Fourth of July I haven’t had to work.” I tell her about the all-night barbecue at Aquamarine. “Guests would go watch the fireworks on South Beach, and when they’d get back to the hotel, there would be a grill loaded with Kobe burgers and steaks, and a full bar until sunrise. Because I worked nights, I was never home to watch fireworks with my family.”