Page 50 of Until We Come Home

I roll my eyes and hit send on the text, nerves settling deep in my stomach.

The late afternoon sun is glittering across the lake, the peaks of the distant mountains standing out against a clear sky on one of those perfect late-August days in the Pacific Northwest. There’s a scattering of cabins throughout the whole campground area, each with a bed or two and a bathroom depending on the size, some with porches, some without, all of them tucked back into the trees.

I float lazily on a brightly colored inflatable raft, bobbing along while the water games go on around me. I’m sitting this round out myself, though I’m cheering for Brooke, Maren, and Emma as they splash their way to victory over Theo and Dominic on the inflatable.

The whole setup feels like summer camp, kids darting through the grass with the dogs in hot pursuit, everyone popping in and out of each other’s cabins like it’s an episode of Friends. I've got a little cabin all to myself, and I'm trying my absolute best to soak in the relaxed atmosphere instead of obsessing over Derek's imminent arrival.

I still can't tell if I'm overthinking things, but I could swear Mateo's voice shifted over the phone when I mentioned Derek was driving up. Then again, maybe I'm just reading into nonexistent clues. Some part of my mind feels like I’m using Derek as a buffer, and that’s an awful thing to do to a person, but at the same time, maybe I do want to get back together with him.

He mentioned he’s been seeing someone back in LA again, though nothing exclusive, so I suppose we’re both just navigating the open space.

I slip under the surface, letting the cold water wash over my head as if it could rinse the clutter out of my brain, then swim toward the bank, wading out of the warm shallows in my bikini. The dogs race past me, soaked and ecstatic, and I smile. At least they’re having a good time, no complicated feelings required.

Glancing up toward the treeline, I spot Mateo making his way down the slope. He’s in a dark blue T-shirt that fits his tall, broad frame just right, those dark eyes finding me the way they always do. When his lips curve into that slow, familiar smile—the one that always makes me feel like I’m the only person in the world—my heart does something inconvenient.

“Hey,” he says, stopping close to me. “Heading back in?”

“Yeah, figure I should grab a quick shower and change before Derek gets here.”

“Oh, right, Derek.” He nods, his smile turning easy and neutral. “That’ll be great. Can’t wait.”

“Yep! Should be fun.” I force a quick, tight smile.

Mateo’s eyes drop to my considerably lower-cut bikini top for a second, and I feel the heat climb up my chest and go all the way to my ears, and I handle this maturely by making a very quick exit toward the showers.

A little while later, fresh out of the shower and combing through my wet hair, I pull on a floral tank top and a pair of cutoff jean shorts. Staring at my reflection, my mind drifts back to Derek. I’ve always pictured us ending up together eventually, navigating our lives with that familiar freedom.

Maybe this weird, restless funk is just a test I need to push through.

The thoughts about Mateo are confusing, but I need to hold strong, not get swayed and potentially implode my whole life because I’m feeling a little confused about a close friend. That happens to people. I bet anything that if I looked into the future, I’d regret making a move and risking everything. I’m sure of it.

I nod to myself in the mirror, satisfied with this very rational conclusion, and hear tires on the gravel drive as a car pulls up. Derek’s here from Seattle.

Fuck.

I scramble out the door and down the path, past the family still half in the water playing and the rest of them at the picnic tables snacking on lunch leftovers, chatting and laughing. Mateo is standing talking with Calvin, a beer in his hand, and they both glance over as I pass, and I make my way up the hill to the car.

Derek climbs out, stylish in a linen shirt, his sunglasses pushed up into his hair and his beaded wrist bracelets jangling as he breaks into a wide grin.

“Mia,” he says warmly, stepping forward. “God, you’re a sight for sore eyes. You look incredible, babe.”

“Thanks, Derek,” I say, smiling as I step into his arms.

He pulls me into a tight squeeze, lifting my feet clean off the grass, and I let myself melt into his familiar hug, catching that faint, comforting hint of sandalwood before stepping back to look up at him.

“I’m so glad you made the drive,” I tell him. “It’s nice to catch up in person—we almost never go this long without seeing each other.”

“I feel the same way,” he says, his fingers trailing along my wrist. “I can’t wait to meet everyone. I’ve heard so much about this crew. Is Mateo here too?”

If there’s a slight edge to his voice, it’s purely my own projection. Absolutely.

“Yep, the gang is all down by the water. Come on, I’ll introduce you,” I say, gesturing down the slope. “We can drop your bags off at your cabin too.”

“Sounds great,” he says as he reaches down for his bag.

We make our way down to the family and I start the introductions, though Lark gets to him first with a hug, since they’ve met several times, asking about his latest show. Jack shakes his hand, then Calvin, and then I run him down the line of brothers and partners and kids and dogs, which takes a while.

And then there’s Mateo, standing a little apart, looking perfectly neutral, though the energy in the air is enough that I could choke on it right then and there.