Page 115 of Summer Love

“It’s the fitting,” he says.

He tightens it. The water keeps leaking.

“Yeah… no. The seal’s shot.”

He reaches under the sink, feels around behind the trap, and turns off a little valve none of us had spotted. Then he digs through his toolbox, pulls out a wrench and two or three tools I can’t identify, and leans in under the cabinet.

“Give me five minutes.”

Most of the women have sat back down. Maya and I gather up the soaked mops and towels. Arms crossed, Sierra stays standing by the kitchenette, watching Noah work without a word.

Harper, who hasn’t moved from her cushion, watches Noah closely. Her gaze slides over him, lingers on his shoulders, his back, a little too low to be innocent.

Noah doesn’t notice. Kneeling in front of the cabinet, wrench in hand, he works fast, his movements practiced. His hair falls over his forehead.

I smile. Noah’s put on weight, smokes too much, wears Crocs—and yet Harper can’t take her eyes off him.

Sierra returns to her spot at the center of the circle.

“Okay. While Noah saves my bookstore…”

She taps her notebook. The group refocuses.

“I collected your suggestions this week. Three titles for next month’s book club. First option: a medical romance. Second option: a sports romance about figure skating. Third option: an M/M.”

“The M/M!” Miles cries.

Everyone laughs. Ruby raises her flask.

“Same here.”

“Let’s do a show of hands,” Sierra says with a smile.

She picks up her tablet, scrolls through the three covers, and sums up each story in a few words—just enough to make you want it.

“Who’s for the medical romance?”

A few hands go up, including Chiara’s.

“Who’s for the sports romance?”

Three hands. The cookie grandma hesitates.

“And the M/M?”

Miles, Ruby, Harper, Maya, and three or four others.

“Summer?” Sierra prompts.

I haven’t raised my hand.

“I don’t think I’ll still be here in two weeks.”

I hope I won’t still be here.

The thought rings hollow, even in my own head.

Harper nudges me with her elbow.