Page 120 of Beautiful Place By the Sea

“Are you sure your dad won’t mind?”

“Nah,” he says, starting the truck. “He likes you, remember? Besides, he’ll probably be busy reading or watching TV. We can just do our thing.”

As it turns out, Robert is finishing the last chapter of his novel right as we walk in. “Oliver! Ivy!” He has the excitement of someone who’s been trapped in quarantine for several weeks and is finally allowed to return to civilization. “How about a game of cards?”

Oliver shoots me a nervous look. “Oh, I don’t know, Dad. It’s been kind of a tough day. We may just go to bed.”

Robert’s face falls faster than a broken elevator. “Sure thing.”

“I’m getting a bit of a second wind, actually,” I offer. “Maybe we could play for a little bit?” I glance to Oliver in question.

This time, his smile goes all the way to his eyes. “Okay, let’s.”

I’m starting to think that cards are the official state pastime of Maine. Granted, my sample size is just three: Simon, Robert, and Maisie, who mentioned offhand that she belongs to a bridge club. I suppose there aren’t many alternative activities in the winter months in northern New England. The beach is still gorgeous, but it loses its status as a way to spend a fulfilling or safe afternoon the minute the snow hits.

We start with poker. “Has Oliver warned you how good he is?” Robert asks, dealing out the deck.

“It hasn’t come up.”

Oliver flashes me a bright grin. “Did you ever consider that might have been intentional?”

“Sorry to have divulged your secret,” Robert jokes.

“Eh, it’s okay.” Oliver shrugs. “I’m still going to win.”

We all laugh, but after a few minutes, it’s beyond clear that Robert was right. Oliver is an exceptionally good poker player. He wins every hand we play but three, of which I take one and Robert the other two.

After we wrap up, Oliver makes a vanilla tea that tastes like dessert.

I take a deep sip. “I’m not usually a huge tea drinker, but I’ll make an exception for this.”

“I’ll make it for you anytime,” Oliver offers sweetly.

“Consolation prize for losing at cards?” I joke.

He grins. “Of course.”

“Well,” Robert says, finishing his tea and rising from the table with what appears to be deep effort, “I think it’s time for me to hit the hay. Have a good night, you two.”

I half expect him to add something like, “But not too good,” with a suggestive wink, but thankfully, he refrains.

“You tired?” Oliver asks when we’re alone.

“Kind of,” I answer apologetically. I feel guilty, somehow. Like maybe I should be spending every last second with him that I can, given the interstate that’s readying itself to tear us asunder.

“It’s okay. Let’s go to bed.” He reaches for my hand. When his fingers close around mine, I feel tears prick the backs of my eyelids. I don’t want to lose this.

After I’ve brushed my teeth with the toothbrush Oliver bought for me to keep here, I slip into his room and shut the door gingerly.

“There are some pajamas for you on the dresser,” he offers.

I pick up the shirt first. “This is your Kafka tee.”

“I had the sense you liked that one,” he teases.

“Mmm.” I slip my dress over my head and unhook my bra, letting both fall to the floor. “It was more how it looked on you that I enjoyed.”

Oliver meets me at the center of the room, hands skimming up my bare ribcage. “I think it’s going to look even better on you.”