“I’m so sorry,” Willow says, shifting even closer to Brett. “It’s just somean—” On ‘mean,’ she shoves Brett with all her might, and then he’s falling belly-first into the pool and sputtering. I can’t help laughing too. The timing was perfect.
“That was deeply satisfying,” she says. She holds out her hand to Luke, and they high-five.
“Youplannedthat?” I ask.
“Yep,” Luke says with a grin. It makes him look younger and mischievous, like someone else. Like Rowan.
My heart plummets, but before I have a chance to think anything else, Brett is coughing and flailing a few feet away from me. Luke’s and Willow’s laughter stops abruptly.
“I ... can’t ... swim ...” Brett pants between breaths.
Luke and Willow exchange a look.
“Are you serious, man?” Luke asks.
“Brett, you better not be lying,” Willow says.
Sensing my cue, I say, “I don’t think he is, you guys.”
I start swimming toward Brett.
Within half a second Luke and Willow are both in the pool. Luke reaches him at the same time I do, but when he tries to lift him out of the water, Brett lunges and pushes Luke down. It’s the perfect time to exact my revenge, so when Brett lets Luke go, I use all my force to push him back under.
Luke manages to writhe his way out from our grips, and then he’s shaking out his wet hair, laughing a full belly laugh. I’ve heard it maybe three times in my life. Once, before Sydney was housetrained, she pooped in Ro’s tennis shoe. When Rowan went to put it on, he squealed out a string of expletives that were totally inappropriate for a ten-year-old but completely hilarious. Another time was during a movie Mel took all three of us to. The third time was with me. I made him laugh with his whole being.
Now I just stand and watch, watch him being happy and carefree and fun. I always thought of Luke as serious, kind of high-minded, but it’s not until I see him now that I remember he wasn’t always like that. He used togigglewhen we were younger. He used to love practical jokes and making fun of his younger brother. It was after his father left that he changed and became more conscientious and practical, more concerned for his mother and Ro than he was with friends or having fun, or even with school. He was happy when we were together. I know that with all my heart, but he was also always scared. Everything with Mel wouldn’t have allowed anything else. It’s nice to see him as he would have been if his father had never left, if his mother never got sick, if I’d never ruined everything.
While Brett splashes Willow, Luke swims over to me, his eyes still sparkling. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”
I swallow over the lump in my throat. I want to tell him how much I love seeing him happy, how much I miss him, how sorry I am for everything. Instead I smile and say, “What can I say? Payback is a bitch.”
We both float there for a second, treading water, and then he lifts his hand and moves a strand of hair away from my eyes.
“Thanks,” I breathe.
He just looks at me.
His gaze is like the pull of gravity, strong and magnetic. His eyes slide all over my face, lingering at my lips.
My first thought is that Brett and Willow are preoccupied with themselves; he doesn’t have to look at me like that.
My second is that I really, really want to kiss him.
So I do.
I close the distance between us, loop my arms around his neck, and press a kiss to his lips. He kisses me back, his tongue pushing my lips apart and sweeping over the inside of my lower lip. We drift until my back is against the edge of the pool, our bodies pressed against each other. His hands roam the bare skin of my side, my stomach, my thighs, while my hands are trapped against his chest. Everything feels familiar, but different and terrifying, like walking through the city you grew up in after a war.
When we finally break apart, Willow and Brett are lobbing a small beach ball back and forth and trying to seem busy.
“I keep forgetting we should be doing that,” Luke says, his voice husky. He steals a look in their direction again. “Think they’re buying everything?”
“Yeah,” I whisper, my knees like jelly. “I think they are.”
12
THEN
It was twenty-fourhours after I spent the morning in Luke’s bed, and Mel patted the side of her king-size bed, waiting for me to climb in next to her. A vague joke about bed-hopping between the Cohens crossed my mind and I smiled to myself. Mel adjusted the pillow behind her, and I was brought back to the present moment.
