“Oh, early twenties, obviously.”
She bats him with the sock. “Stop.”
Cameron puts on his best smile. “I mean, why not? You’re—”
A beleaguered grunt from the other room interrupts him. Moments later, a teenage boy lopes out. He’s almost as tall as Cameron, with shaggy dark curls and the same olive complexion as Avery. Without a glance at Cameron, the boy holds up a cereal box and moans, “Mom! We’re outta Cheerios.”
Cameron’s jaw drops. A kid? A teenage kid?
A look of surprise crosses Avery’s face, then she inhales stiffly. “Cameron, this is Marco.” She turns to the teenager, who glares at Cameron the way someone looks at a fresh turd. “Honey, this is my friend Cameron.”
“Hey,” Cameron says with a nod.
“Sup.” Marco juts his chin.
“Don’t mind him. He’s fifteen. And I thought he had headed out on a bike ride ten minutes ago,” Avery says, ruffling Marco’s hair, which he tolerates for a couple of seconds before ducking away from her hand. Cameron runs the numbers in his head three times to make sure he’s got it right. Seventeen. Avery had a kid when she was seventeen!
“Marco, hon, what do we do when we’re out of Cheerios?”
Marco rolls his eyes. “The list.”
“Right. We add it to the shopping list,” she says, her tone pointed. “I’m sure you’ll find something else to eat in the meantime.”
Marco mutters, “We’re out of chips, too.”
“Oh, the humanity,” Avery says dryly. “Look, I’ll try to get to the grocery store later. Cameron and I are going out on the water. Don’t trash the house while I’m gone, okay?”
“Can Kyle and Nate come over later?”
“If you promise to do something besides play video games all day. Go ride your bikes! And the lawn needs mowing.”
“Yeah, fine. I’ll mow.”
“Great. Have fun. And here.” She tosses the sock at him. “This got lost on its way to the hamper.”
These last words send a shock wave through Cameron. That’s exactly what Katie used to say to him when he’d leave his clothes on their bedroom floor.
“I SHOULD’VE TOLD you.” Avery bites her lip and stares out the passenger window of the camper. “I’m sorry.”
“No! It’s cool. Totally cool.” Cameron rests his arm on the rim of the open window. Is it cool? To his surprise . . . yeah, maybe it is. Watching Avery as a mom, for some reason, had impressed him in a way that he’d never been impressed by a girl before. He turns off the highway and down the long, winding hill toward the water. The transmission shudders at the downshift, and that damn loose belt squeals, which causes him to second-guess his insistence on driving. He had wanted to show off the camper, though. It’s looking good these days. He scrubbed the whole inside down with vinegar and lemon, and even the windows are streak-free. He even sprung for a cheap, but new, mattress.
She gives him a sidelong look. “You’re cool with me having a kid?”
“Well, I guess it means you’re easy,” he says, voice hitching on the last syllable. Did his joke cross the line? But Avery bursts out laughing and gives his shoulder a playful shove.
“You are so going in the water. I’ll dunk you myself.”
“You can’t! I don’t have a swimsuit.”
This is true. All of Cameron’s board shorts are stuffed in a black garbage bag, where they went after Katie tossed them off her balcony. The garbage sack has probably been moved to Brad and Elizabeth’s basement by now.
Avery stares at him, incredulous. “Why not?”
“Don’t own one at the moment.”
“We have trunks at my shop, you know.”
“Too rich for my blood. What do you think they’re paying me to hack up mackerel and mop up the guts afterward?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I would have given you a pair for free!”
“Nah, I’m done with handouts. Although that shit you gave me for my neck was amazing.”
“Fair enough.” She shakes her head, smiling. “But I hope you like being cold and wet.”
TINY WAVES LAP at the pebbled shore. How hard could this be? Nonetheless, Avery gives him the play-by-play. “So, you want to put your feet here.” She points to the middle of his board. “And hold your paddle like this,” she says, demonstrating.
Cameron nods, half listening as she goes through a million more directives.