“There’s no one like you, Sutton,” he says. Which is a much better confession than my clunky one, and at it I’m pulling him back up, kissing him again, chasing that same taste, feel, the friction between our bodies.
Everett urges me toward him with a hand on the small of my back, my dress hiking up around my thighs, and I think I’d let him lie me down right here if it weren’t for the beep at the front door, the lock whirring.
There isn’t any time to do more than jerk away from each other. Everett walks over to the fridge and opens it, pretending to inspect the contents as I slide off the counter and race back to my water glass, filling it at the sink again and trying to keep the rise and fall of my breath out of my shoulders.
“Hey,” Laurel says, dropping her bag onto the island loudly enough that we both turn to her. Everett looks a little dazed, just how I feel. “Better get ready. We’re going out tonight.”
“We are?” I ask, rifling mentally through the plan for theweek as my pulse pounds in my throat. “I thought we were laying low tonight.”
“We were,” Laurel says, something mischievous sparking in her eyes. “But I found an outdoor movie night. Sounds more fun than hanging here.”
“Great,” I say. I’m convinced she knows, that my voice comes out two pitches higher than usual. “What movie?”
Laurel’s focus narrows on Everett, a rabbit in a wolf’s path as she grins. “Cooney.”
twenty
Third Summer
Friday night, we headed to a new bar in town that Laurel had heard about from some of her social media friends. It was a detour from our traditions, but it was good, she said, not to get too stuck in a rut. The place struck a bewildering balance between an early aughts all-ages music venue and a maritime-themed bar: all-black floors and furniture, the hint of a possible blacklight in the corners, anchors and fishing nets adorning the bar, a carved wooden captain statue at the door.
An hour in, it was clear something was going on with Gabe.
We were sitting in a booth, Laurel and I on one side. She’d been responding to comments on her phone for the better part of the hour, while Gabe nursed what, on the menu, was called a “Siren’s Call,” a bright red drink that came in a beer stein and was served with a skewer of tropical fruit.
“Hey,” I said after he morosely sucked on another pineapple wedge. “What’s up?”
Gabe finished the pineapple before dropping his face into his palms. His already broad shoulders expanded on a sigh. I glanced at Everett, who looked as confused as I did.
“Hey,” Everett said, patting a hand on Gabe’s back. “It looks like there’s a nautical pinball machine in the back. You want to give it a go?”
“No,” Gabe said. Then, out of nowhere, “I miss Zoey.” His voice was muffled from where he still had his head in his hands. We all exchanged a glance as he lifted it. “Did I just say that out loud?”
“You did, pal,” Everett said.
Gabe groaned, rubbing his palms down his face. “I don’t mean that,” he said.
“It’s okay if you do,” Laurel said.
“I don’t,” Gabe insisted. “I don’t missher, I just miss... I miss heading toward something. I wanted to get married. I wanted to have kids. I wanted a house and vacations and music lessons and soccer games and the whole stupid thing.”
“You’ll have that,” I said, reaching across the table to pat his hand. He gave me a grim, disbelieving smile.
“Okay, I have an idea,” Everett said. We all looked at him. “Gabe, we’re going to help you meet someone.”
“Meet someone?” Gabe said, like it was a foreign concept. “Where?”
“Here,” Everett said, gesturing to the bar at large.
“I don’t live here.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Everett said. “You don’t have to meet your wife tonight, but you do need to get back on that horse if you’re ever going to find her.”
“I’ve been on the horse,” Gabe said glumly. Everett raised an eyebrow at him. “I haven’t been on the horse.”
“I think it’s a great idea,” Laurel said, already scanning the crowd like she was searching out potential prospects.
“Me too,” I said. “We’ll all help.”
