“Never watched it.”
He looks at me with an expression of horror. “Okay, well, actually, genuinely, as your friend, we need to correct that. But what I was saying before is that I saw Pete and Cooper get into an actual tug-of-war over who gets to use the long-handled grilling spatula.”
I smile. “Asyourfriend, I should tell you that’s another Bennet family tradition. For some reason, Dad refuses to buy more than one—so when multiple people are grilling, there’s always a fight over who has to use the dinky kitchen spatula.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Any other traditions I should brace myself for over the next week?”
“Hmm…” I start counting off on my fingers. “Mom will usually make breakfast for everyone. She’s always up super early, and food is her love language. Definitely lots of boat days. We also play board games most nights after dinner.”
“Board games?” Nate asks, his tone intrigued. “Like, Monopoly?”
“Monopoly, Ticket to Ride, Sorry!—not Pictionary; that one got banned after someone threw the timer across the room when their team failed to guess ‘penguin’ based on a very obvious drawing.”
Nate grins. “It was you, wasn’t it?”
I shrug, letting my eyes drift up to the fading cotton candy sky. “No comment.”
“Sounds fun growing up with so many siblings.”
“It was fun. Usually.”
Nate gently trails his hand in the water next to the kayak, disturbing the stillness. I try not to notice how strong his hands look. “Not always?”
“It could be pretty loud.” I laugh. “Pete and Linney are twins—they were like this crazy tornado of energy. They both did sports, and Linney was the head of, like, five clubs. They were always in motion. And Cooper had a million friends. Our house became the go-to hang place—probably because of Mom’s gourmet snacks.” Nate chuckles. “It always felt like the house was packed with too many people. Most afternoons, I’d go hide in my room. It was my safe place, you know?”
He nods, then grimaces. “I’m sorry, by the way, for Cara taking your room.”
“Oh, that’s fi—” I start to wave him off, but he stops me.
“It’s not fine. It sucks. I get it. Also, sorry I took over Camp Bennet. If it makes you feel any better, today I woke up with what I’m pretty sure was a dead cricket in my hair, so…”
“It does, thank you.”
I look up at the brownish-gold waves of his hair, imagining what it would feel like to run my fingers through the strands.
“It’s so cool you have practically a Michelin-starred chef mom,” Nate says—and I’m grateful for the interruption. My thoughts were drifting somewhere dangerously un-friend-like…
“My mom sucked at cooking except when she made grilled cheese,” Nate continues. “Her grilled cheese sandwiches were the best in the world. They weren’t fancy or anything—I think it wassomething about the quality of the bread or the amount of butter, and leaving them on low heat till the outsides were perfectly golden.”
“Sounds like the ultimate comfort food.” I offer him a small, sad smile.
“Oh, it was. But it was also a work of art. I’ve tried to make it, and it’s never the same. I’m always too impatient or put the heat up too high. And I think I’ve tried every diner grilled cheese from Mobile to Montgomery, but they never live up. Not even close.”
“Do you mind if I—can I ask—how old were you when she…”
“I was seventeen. Cara was eleven.”
I let out a sigh. “I can’t even imagine. I’m so sorry, Nate. I’m sure it doesn’t mean much coming from me, but—”
“It does.” His voice is low. He swallows then looks back at me, smiling. “Look at us—a regularLady and the Trampfriendship. ‘The LA Girl and the Country Boy.’”
I laugh. “Doesn’t quite have the same ring to it.”
“Eh, I think it works. Should we shake on it?”
“I think we’ve proven that can be pretty dangerous.” I raise an eyebrow at him. “I’d hate to risk this deep, enduring”—I pause to look at an invisible watch—“twelve-minute-old friendship.”
He gives me a soft grin. “You’re probably right.”
