Page 23 of Tastes Like Summer

“I will, on two conditions,” he says, pulling the bag just out of reach.

I narrow my eyes at him. “What conditions?”

He smiles mischievously. “First, you tell me how you found out my last name.”

Now it’s me who flushes viciously—I can feel my cheeks practically aflame. “I—I googled your catering company. I remembered the name from Barbara’s wedding.”

His grin widens. “Cool.”

I roll my eyes and put a hand on my hip. “Don’t go thinking you’re special. I needed to check who my daughters’ friend’s parent was.” Which is true, but that’s not the entire reason I googled him a couple of nights ago. My having a glass of wine too many and thinking about how attractive he was, however, did add to it. I need this part of the conversation to be over. “What’s the second condition?”

“That you let me come over and teach you some recipes—quick and easy ones. Let me help you. Help Emi.”

For a split second, I almost consider it. But my instincts overpower that part of me that is screaming for help because I was always taught it’s rude to do so.

“No, I’m okay, thank you. You’re right, though—I should be doing more research.” I sigh internally because the idea of adding one more thing to my mental load makes me want to scream. I reel it in, feeling the weight of guilt from that thought press down on my chest. What kind of mother am I? Of course I should be doing all this research. I have to do better, though. Be better.

“Okay, well. If you have any questions… Just know I’m here.”

“Thanks,” I say, slapping on my best smile.

We stare at each other in silence for a minute, unmoving. I take in his features, noting the way the sun hits his hazel eyes, making them look almost emerald green. Vibrant, full of life. But also tired. Overwhelmed. And it makes my heart ache just a little. Because, despite having annoyed me at first, I can see how big of a life change this has been for him, too. That, I can empathize with.

“Hey, so. Do you guys have any plans for Fourth of July?” he asks.

This takes me by surprise. “Um. No, actually. I mean, I was thinking of taking the girls to the next town over’s parade—some people have recommended it—but nothing other than that.”

He scratches the back of his head and looks down at his feet as the words rush out of his mouth: “Well, I’m hosting a barbecue with a bunch of people at a beach in Southampton—just about twenty minutes from here. Good food, corn hole—other activities. You know. I’ve already invited Barbara, though she hasn’t really RSVP’d yet. Do people still RSVP? Anyway. We’re gonna do the whole seafood and hot dogs thing and see the fireworks over the ocean and have a bunch of people over. And I was wondering whether you’d like to come. The girls and you, I mean.”

Is he… is he nervous?

“Barbara won’t be back until the last couple of weeks of summer. But, yeah, I’m sure the girls would love to come hang. That sounds like a lot of fun.”

“They’ll be other grown-ups there, too. Not just me. So you won’t be bored out of your mind.”

I laugh. Did he use the word grown-ups? Adorable. “Listen, we might not have gotten along in the beginning, but it’s never been boring between us.”

Us.

“No, it hasn’t,” he says quietly. He stares at me for a moment before breaking the unexpected silence between us. “Can I get your number? So I can text you the address, I mean. And you can call me if you get lost or anything.”

My chest tightens while I pause for a second, eyes roaming his face, taking in his expression—so kind; such a difference from our first few interactions. Do I want to give him my number? “Yes.”

“Tell me exactly why you’re doing this? I thought we were having a low-key Fourth of July at the beach.” Lexi raises a brow, setting down two beach chairs on the white sand next to the four I already set up. She eyes me skeptically when she should be monitoring her kids as they play catch with a football. I mean, she’s acting like this whole thing is a huge deal when it’s not.

At least that’s what I’m telling everyone.

“This is low-key,” I lie, hoping my aviators hide the anxiety in my eyes.

She looks meaningfully at the portable Weber grill I bought for the occasion, the new umbrellas and towels I got from Costco yesterday, the beach games I borrowed for the afternoon from my neighbor, and the three coolers full of food and beverages I spent all last night preparing.

“Bagged sandwiches and sodas and water in a cooler is low-key. A whole barbecue, fire pit, and prepared foods is not low-key,” Lexi’s wife, Lauren, adds.

“Not to mention the amount of people you invited. It’s crazy. Call it what it is—this is basically a full-on party at this point.”

“It isn’t a party. And I only invited people who are close to us.”

“Right. And this new woman in your life.” Lauren snorts.