I fucking matter to her.
And, if I’m being honest, if the tables were turned, I’d want to know this about her. I’d lose sleep. I’d want to make sure she kept up with her screenings. I wouldn’t take a single second for granted.
“Sorry,” I offer. “I don’t really think about it.” It’s almost the truth. I don’tliketo think about it, and I succeed at that most of the time.
Greta arches a brow. “I agree with them.” She nods toward my parents. “Definitely a big deal.”
Mom and Dad chuckle.
“I like her,” Dad says, and it’s a gut-punch. Because that’s what he would say about a girlfriend.
And, even though I want her to be, Greta’s not my girlfriend.
I expect her to pull her hand away at his remark—the way she was so adamant about wanting to let our guests know we weren’t together not long ago—but she keeps her hand in mine.
And, fuck me, but I’m not letting go until she does.
“So.” Dad claps his hands and rubs his palms together like he’s Mr. Miyagi. “When are we getting that tour?”
And that’s when Greta lets go and starts clearing the dishes. I curse myself for not being faster but since she’s got the tray loaded, I open the door for her.
“Thanks,” she mutters, her eyes catching and holding mine for the briefest second. But it’s a look that makes my abs leap.
A look that hints that something has changed. Something real.
We need to talk.
I’ve never wanted to be alone with someone more in my life.
But my parents, who have always been able to read the room, fail me now by following us into the lodge.
“Can I help with those dishes, Greta?” Mom asks, hard on her heels. Then she laughs at herself. “It’s just so strange to have y’all wait on us.”
But Greta’s already shaking her head. She sets the tray next to the sink and gives Mom a cheeky grin. “No way, Mrs. Rousseau. You can’t have it both ways.”
Mom pulls up short, looking mildly affronted. “Please. Call me Sunny. And what on earth do you mean, I can’t have it both ways?”
Greta all but snorts. “I mean the two of you are welcome here any time. Not as customers, but as Zach’s family.” She gives a sassy shrug. “If you book a cabin and pay us, you don’t get to help with chores. If you get the friends and family one hundred percent discount, you can do all the dishes you want.”
My dad’s laughter cracks through the lodge as Mom stands there speechless for once.
“Yep, I really do like her,” Dad mutters again through his guffaws.
Grinning, I just shake my head. “Greta used to be a middle school teacher. She excels at laying down the law.”
Mom’s fighting a smile now. “I can’t wait to see you in action when y’all open up for children.”
At this, Greta beams, her eyes glowing with hope and excitement. “I can’t wait for that either.” She’s loaded the dishes in the sink and hits them with the sprayer. “These’ll keep until later.” Then she grabs a dish towel and dries her hands. “Let’s take that tour.”
* * *
My parents arein love with Camp Bliss.
We walked them out to the lake, and as soon as we set foot on the dock, four Blue-Winged Teal ducks flew over and executed a near soundless water landing, quacking their salutations and wagging their ducktails with pride.
The end of the day gifted us with a red sunset that made the lake’s surface blush. It took Mom’s breath away.
Mine too.
