Hank grinned. “Where should a guy like me see the fireworks?”
Juliet remembered being a teenager, sitting out on the dock with Callie and Theo, watching the fireworks explode in the inky black over the Atlantic. “There’s always a brilliant show over the cove,” she said, pulling out a map to show him where it was.
He marked the spot on his phone’s map and smiled. “You wouldn’t want…” He shook his head.
Heat rolled through Juliet. For the first time since the separation, since coming to Bluebell Cove, she felt like someone wanted to be with her. She felt like someone was looking at her with awe.
It was more than she could take. It was also addictive. She did not want this guy to go away.
“Maybe I would want that.” Juliet shrugged. “Maybe I would.”
Hank laughed. “Where should I pick you up?”
“I get off here at the Eco-Lodge at eight,” she said.
After Hank went up to his room, Juliet fell into a state of panic and adrenaline. She pulled a mirror out of her purse and analyzed her hair, her teeth, and her makeup, trying to decide on a lip shade that made her look mysterious and also fun and charming. After she’d rubbed off one shade and applied another, Celia came through, her heels clacking gently on the floorboards. She gave Juliet a quizzical smile.
Juliet wanted desperately to tell Celia about her date with the stranger upstairs. But since she’d come to Bluebell, she, Celia, and Ivy had spent so little time together that they seemed even more distant than they had that first day. Juliet now saw herself as one of Celia’s employees rather than her little sister.
“How’s it going?” Celia asked.
“It’s going!” Juliet sang back. There was such an emptiness between them. It made Juliet’s heart ache.
Before Juliet left with Hank for the fireworks, Juliet called Danica to check in. “Are you going out with your cousins?” she asked her daughter, praying that Danica could find the will to create a real-life story for herself, one that existed outside of the internet.
“Mom, fireworks are terrible for the environment,” Danica said. “Sophie and Celia are always talking about the environment. I can’t believe they don’t put a stop to this.”
Juliet rubbed her forehead and the bridge of her nose, willing the oncoming headache to back up so that she could pour her full, happy attention onto Hank Bartholomew. “I think Celia mentioned that some of the fireworks will be done by drones this year?” she said, hoping that this would help.
“Okay, great. Drones are so much better than fireworks,” Danica said sarcastically. “I think I’d rather be in my room doing anything else.”
“Counting down the days till we get back to Manhattan?” Juliet asked meekly.
“Um. Duh?” Danica sighed. “How’s work?”
“It’s okay,” Juliet said, although she wanted to tell her daughter that she knew what Danica saw when she looked at Juliet: a loser who couldn’t make her way through the world. A pathetic person who’d failed and failed and failed herself till she had no choice but to return home.
“Honey,” Juliet said tentatively. “I hope we can talk soon. About everything.”
Danica let out an ironic laugh that reminded Juliet too much of her own self, back in the old days. “Sure,” she said, and then she hung up.
But the woman Hank greeted at the front desk of the Eco-Lodge at eight sharp did not look like the defeated and divorced mother of one Danica made Juliet out to be. Juliet had changed into a cool black tank top and a pair of jeans and a vintage belt, and she’d perfected her makeup so that it looked like she wasn’t wearing any at all.
Hank was wearing jeans and a white V-neck. His shaggy hair had been washed and brushed out again. He smiled easily and said, “You ready to go?” And Juliet thought she would have followed him anywhere.
Out in front of the Eco-Lodge, Juliet dared a glance back at her daughter’s bedroom. The curtains were aglow, presumably because Danica was behind them, writing in her blog.
During the walk to the docks, Hank and Juliet talked about easy things. Hank had about a hundred stories from his first sixty days of traveling, and when Juliet asked how he could make it all work, he explained he was a freelance software developer who’d grown tired of living in the same place all the time. “Also, I’m divorced.” He shrugged.
“Who isn’t?” Juliet laughed.
“Most of my friends back home aren’t,” Hank said. “It made me feel like I’d failed, you know? Everyone has these long, beautiful relationships with kids and everything. And my ex-wife left me for the gym teacher at the high school where she teaches English.” He shuddered, then laughed at himself. “She thinks Kerouac is for kids. Teenage boys, she said.”
Juliet had heard similar sentiments about Kerouac, but she’d never been much of a reader herself. She wondered what Danica would say about Kerouac, and about Hank, and decided she didn’t want to know. Danica had no idea what it was like to be nearing forty and unloved.
When they reached the docks, the fireworks were just beginning, a symphony of reds and oranges and yellows. Together, Juliet and Hank sat, their legs hanging over the side of the docks, as, around them, other Bluebell Cove visitors and locals ogled the show. Occasionally, Hank drew his body closer to hers so Juliet could feel the warmth emanating from his muscular frame. She wondered how he stayed in such great shape after so many weeks on the road.
When the fireworks were over, it was only nine. Hank suggested they take a small stroll down the boardwalk. Juliet hadn’t eaten, and she felt jittery but grateful. She still loved the way he looked at her—like she was the secret solution to all his life’s problems. Maybe she was!
