“This is true,” I concede. Sabrina’s dad is Rodney Slade, the movie producer and media tycoon behind half the action movies Seth and I watched when we were kids. I have no doubt that he would knowexactlyhow to make my brother disappear. “Why, then? What’s the rush?”
Seth considers this. “Well, when you know you know, I guess. We want to have a family, and I’m not getting any younger —”
“You’re thirty-five,” I cut in. Three years older than I am. “Robert De Niro had a kid two years ago, and he’s seventy-nine.”
“Yeah, but I want to be able to play with mine without breaking a hip.” Seth runs a hand through his hair, then puts it back on the steering wheel. He always keeps his hands at 10 and 2, like an old lady. “And besides — I mean, we saw what happened with Mom. You never know how much time you have. So, if I know how I want to use mine, I just want to get started.”
“Yeah, I get that.” Talking about Mom still makes my insides go all rubbery, even after all these years, so I change the subject. “You have to admit, though —she’s too good for you. Sabrina, I mean.”
“You’re telling me! I still pinch myself every time she walks through the door — can’tbelieveI got this lucky.”
Seth and Sabrina met through work — his company hired her as the voice actress for the big-titted heroine of one of their first-person shooter games, and I guess one thing led to another.
We’re both quiet for a little bit, lost in thought. Then Seth sighs, glancing over at me. “Look, I know relationships aren’t really your thing, but could you just be happy for me? Bree is great. And she really wants to get to know you better. Maybe you could — I dunno — Try today. Just a little.”
I think about the secret folder of hookup apps on my phone, about every first date with a guy that never went anywhere further than a dingy bathroom stall. I think about every woman who ever wanted something from me that I couldn’t figure out how to give. And I want to say it’s the other way around, that I’m not really relationships’ thing. But Seth doesn’t know anything about that part of me, so I sit back in my seat and I nod my head and I give him what he wants.
“Okay.”
You might not believe this coming from me, but even I can agree that sometimes it’s easier not to fight.
***
“So, this party — who’s coming?”
I’m walking down the hill from the house with Seth and Dad, my hands shoved in the pockets of my one good navy suit. Seth is looking surprisingly sleek in a suit that Sabrina must have picked out for him, and Dad — well, Dale Callahan always looks a little out of place when he’s not dressed head to toe in Carhartt. He’s tugging on the sleeves of his tweed blazer as we walk, and for once I know exactly where he’s coming from, because I’m not exactly in my element either.
Being home has its benefits, though. I know I come off like a cynical piece of shit, but even I can’t deny that the view stretched out beneath us is stunning. Raritan Bay is sparkling in the early evening light, the air itself almost golden in the setting sun. A narrow strip of sandy beach separates the bay from the Atlantic Ocean, stretching as far as the eye can see. Off to the left is the New York City skyline, and when I was a kid it was a beacon, taunting me from across the water with all of my dreams of getting out, finding someplace where Ifit. Now that I’m on the other side, I’m pretty sure I don’t actually fit anywhere — but the dream was still worth having, I guess.
“It’s not going to be too big,” Seth replies. “Just Bree and her parents, and two of her girlfriends, who are going to be her bridesmaids. And you know, Dave andKyle on our side. And her best friend is a guy, and he’s going to be her — I think they’re going with Man of Honor? I haven’t met him yet because he’s been out of the country. But Bree says we’re going to like him.”
I resign myself to an evening of eating my crab cakes in silence. Maybe this is going to come as a shock, but small talk with people I don’t know isn’t exactly my strong suit.
It’s not a long walk to the Rusty Harpoon, and it’s a route we’ve traced over and over. Just another special occasion for the Callahan family with the same food, the same nautical decor, the same everything that I’ve experienced countless times before. I’m sure this evening will blend in with all the others, just one long train of beige painted across my memories.
The room for private parties is upstairs, with a picture window extending along the length of the building, giving us a panoramic view of the bay and the ocean beyond. Seth leads us toward a small knot of people standing around the bar.
“Seth!” My future sister-in-law separates from the pack and throws herself into my brother’s arms. She’s small and curvy, with big dark eyes and wavy black hair. And I’m guessing the ruffly blue dress she’s wearing is expensive. “We were starting to think you got cold feet, baby.”
“Nope, they’re toasty warm —” my brother murmurs, and okay, even I can see the heart eyes.
“There’s someone I’ve been dying for you to meet.” Sabrina holds a hand out toward the bar. “Cole?”
Fuck. Nonononono ohfuckshit goddamn —
Cole. ColefuckingAlden.
He’s in a slim-cut suit that fits his lean frame like a glove, and it’scoral, because of course it is, because ColefuckingAlden never walked into a room without making sure that every eye was on him. He’s still got those honey-gold curls tumbling below his collar, and he’s looking just as suntanned and effortlessly windblown as he ever did, back when I knew him, back before —
Before I fucked everything up because I’m a fucking coward.
And his flowered shirt is unbuttoned halfway down his chest and I don’t know whether to look there or to tilt my head up at his piercing blue eyes, which are —fuck, which are looking right at me. And there was a time when I knew every one of Cole Alden’s expressions, where I could read him like a book, but now it’s like there’s a fucking wall between us and I just can’t —
He’s holding out his hand, and I’m shaking it firmly, and all the sound around us is under water as his skin touches mine and I try not to think of —
“Ezra.”
“Cole.”
