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“Stop!” Summer feigned indignation. “I suppose ‘Michael’ would sound so much better, wouldn’t it?”
“Naturally. It just rolls off the tongue. I’ll show you later if you like.”
Summer cocked her head to one side and studied him closely. In faded brown Abercrombie shorts, flip-flops, and a Balliol Boat Club T-shirt, with his Hamptons tan and dark curly hair grown out, rocker-style, Michael looked even more handsome than usual. Ever since he was a kid, he’d been beautiful. But was there any substance behind the pretty face?
“I had the biggest crush on you when I was little.”
“I had an inkling,” said Michael.
“This is the part where you’re supposed to say you always liked me too,” Summer teased him. “Didn’t you?”
“The thing is . . .” Michael swirled the beer around the bottom of his bottle thoughtfully. “You weren’t that little.”
“Hey!”
“No, really. You were absolutely enormous.”
Summer picked up a piece of bread from the basket between them and threw it at him. “That’s not very gentlemanly!”
“It’s true, though.” He laughed. “You were massive, and you never said anything. You just stared at me, like a hippo about to charge. Scared the shit out of me, if you must know.”
It was pretty much the rudest thing anyone had ever said to her, but somehow, coming from Michael, it was funny.
“How did you lose the weight?”
“I ate less.”
“Good strategy.”
“Thanks.” They both smiled. “I don’t know,” said Summer. “I got happier, I guess.”
“You know what’s funny?” said Michael, finishing his beer and ordering another.
The fact that I’m supposed to be heartbroken, but at this moment I feel totally happy?
The fact that I know you’re a player and you’re full of shit, but I still want to go to bed with you?
“No. What?”
“I’ve known you since you were five years old. But I don’t really know you at all.”
Reaching across the table, Michael touched Summer’s hand, flipping it over and slowly caressing the inside of her wrist with his thumb. Chad Bates had never done that. Summer felt the blood rush to her groin like it had a plane to catch.
Michael grinned. “Let’s go to bed.”
“What are you thinking?”
Teddy De Vere looked over at his wife. In the moon’s half-light, Alexia’s skin looked flawless, like it used to when they were courting. The night’s shadows had erased the wrinkles and age spots, leaving nothing but the beautiful profile he remembered: strong jaw, long, aquiline nose, high brow. Alexia was nearly sixty, but she was still a sensual, desirable woman, at least in Teddy’s eyes. He had loved her for most of his adult life, and she had changed his life, completely. If he could choose only one word to describe her, it would be strength. The beauty of Alexia’s strength was, it was contagious. She had made him strong. Teddy loved her for that.
The De Veres were having dinner on the deck at the Gables, just the two of them. A crescent moon hung in a star-flooded sky, and bullfrogs croaked sleepily from the pond at the bottom of the property. The guesthouse lights were still on, but neither of the children was home. Roxie was having supper with a friend, a rare occurrence indeed these days, and Michael was somewhere with Summer Meyer. Ever since Lucy and Arnie’s dinner party Michael had been following the Meyer girl around like a lost puppy. Though it pained Teddy to admit it, it was rather sweet. He couldn’t remember ever seeing his son so besotted, unless you counted Michael’s infant crush on his mother.
Alexia let out a long sigh.
Teddy asked, “What was that for? Something on your mind?”
“No, not really. I was just thinking how lovely it is here. How peaceful.”
She was right. It was a perfect Martha’s Vineyard night, warm, the air slightly sticky and sweet with the scents of roses and violets and lavender, competing with the succulent aroma of lemon-garlic chicken wafting out through the kitchen window. Even so, Teddy sensed that Alexia was only half in the present.
