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“Is there coffee?” Connor asked, coming into the kitchen. He was followed by Sydney, who was trailed by a yawning, dark-haired kid who still looked half-asleep. I was startled by the presence of yet another Sanders—like this house was a clown car that was just going to keep discharging people long after you’d thought it was impossible—until I remembered that I had heard about Sydney and Connor’s son.
“Dashiell!” Astrid yelled. She paused Moana and yanked off her headphones.
“Morning, Aunt Astrid,” Dashiell said with a yawn, and Astrid grinned.
“Want to go swimming? Want to watch a movie?”
“Listen to the dream I had last night!” Artie yelled as the kids—who were, somehow, aunt, uncle, and nephew—convened on the couch.
“Morning, all,” Wallace said as he sailed into the kitchen, wearing a robe with a sleep mask pushed up on his forehead. “Who made coffee?”
“What’s for breakfast?” Chloe asked as she followed behind Wallace, in workout clothes, her hair up in a ponytail. Andy hurled himself at her, tail wagging wildly, and she scooped him up. “Good morning, sunshine,” she said to the dog. She glanced across at her children. “They’re rotting their brains, I take it?”
“Moana,” Wylie replied.
“Again?”
“There will never be anything else. I’m just resigned to it.”
“Morning,” Kenya said as she came into the kitchen through the sliding glass door. She was wearing a cover-up over a bathing suit. “Anyone want an early swim? The water’s perfect.”
“Please tell me there’s coffee,” Wallace said, pushing himself up to sit on the kitchen island. He yawned hugely. “I was up late trying to talk to Alyssa.”
Kenya sighed. “You two need to get on a better schedule if you’re going to make it work.”
“Of course we’re going to make it work,” Wallace said, but I noticed that a worried expression had crossed his face, a flicker of doubt he was clearly working to keep at bay.
I put my plate and mug in the sink—considering the fridges had been a mystery, I wasn’t even going to attempt to locate a dishwasher—and then pulled out my phone to check the time. Wylie, clocking this, gave me a nod.
“Let me see about finding you a ride,” he said, getting up from the table. “You have all your luggage?” I nodded toward the stuff I’d left by the door. “Good.”
“Um,” I said, looking around, not exactly sure who to address this to, “if one of you could tell Russell goodbye for me?” I thought about saying I could text him, only to realize with a shock that I didn’t have his phone number. Or email address, for that matter. “Or I could write a note…”
“Go tell him yourself,” Chloe said, nodding upstairs.
“Really?” I looked down at my phone again. “It’s kind of early.”
“I know he wouldn’t want to miss you,” Wylie said, giving me a smile. “Third door on the left once you hit the top of the stairs.”
I thought about protesting, saying that it was okay, that I didn’t want to wake him up. After all, we’d had a nice goodbye last night in front of the guesthouse. But would this seem bizarre to everyone else here? Or even insulting to these people who’d offered me so much hospitality? And then a second later, I realized that I did want to see him one last time.
When I reached the top of the staircase I noticed this floor had a homier feeling—the downstairs might have been more impressive, but this was clearly where people actually lived. There were shoes and sweaters and dog-eared books on the couch in the little living room, and a scuff along one wall. The art here was less grand—more family portraits and drawings that looked like they’d been done by the younger kids. I paused in front of a large, framed black-and-white picture.
It was a family portrait. Everyone was wearing white, posed on a beach somewhere. Nobody seemed to be looking in the same direction, or at the camera, but somehow, despite that, you could feel the love and fun and chaos practically jumping out of the frame. I was a little taken aback by the sheer number of people in this picture—all these adults, all these kids—and how many of them I recognized. My dad and I had never had a formal family picture taken, I realized as I looked at it. Maybe because there’s no point when your family portrait can fit in a selfie.
Or, you know, Katy said. Not.
You do have more family than just Ted, Didi pointed out.
I looked at the picture for a moment longer, finding Russell in the bottom right of the frame. He was standing next to a striking-looking woman—she had dark hair with a silver streak running through it. His mom, presumably—as the picture had been taken she was reaching up to flatten his hair.
I smiled, then headed down the hallway, stopping in front of the third door. I knocked, but nothing happened—no sound from inside. I pressed my ear to the wood, but all I could hear was the faint sound of ocean waves crashing. I knocked once more, this time pushing the door open as I did and just hoping this wasn’t some giant violation of his privacy.
“Russell?” I called quietly as I stuck my head in. I blinked, trying to let my eyes adjust to the dimness of the room.
It was a large space, the blinds drawn against the morning sun. Not that I’d had a ton of experience seeing boys’ rooms, but this one seemed neater and more picked up than I would have expected. There was an armchair in the corner, with the clothes Russell had been wearing last night—the shorts and button-down—draped over the arm of it. On the wall, there was a large framed piece of art—as my eyes adjusted I could see that it was a vintage-looking poster. A Little Night Music, it read. On the dresser, I could see a framed picture of Russell between two guys, one tall and one short—and I smiled as I realized that these must be the aforementioned Bens.
All the furniture in the room was dark wood, and there were rugs scattered artfully across the wood floors. The whole thing seemed really pulled together—sophisticated and adult, and I was suddenly embarrassed about my bedroom back at home, with my floral print comforter I’d picked out at Target when I was twelve and then never changed. I still had boy band and movie posters tacked up on my walls, and my mirror was crammed with Polaroids of me and my friends.
