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What had Mark and my dad talked about outside? Had Dad encouraged him to pursue me? Had he told him to stay away? I was overreacting. I probably didn’t come up in conversation at all.
When we finished eating, Kendall and Drew disappeared into the basement again. And we all worked together to clear the table, forming an assembly line in the kitchen to rinse and place dishes in the dishwasher while Mark took out the garbage.
“You want to go for a walk?” Mark asked me once things were cleaned up.
I dared a glance at my father, who nodded at me.
“If you don’t mind keeping an eye on Kendall?” Mark asked the room in general.
“I think between all of us, we can keep track of one nine-year-old girl,” Ellie said.
“Sure,” I said to him, leading the way to the front door and out onto the sidewalk.
He fell into step next to me, and I had a moment of déjà vu. Mark coming over for dinner, cleaning up, taking out the garbage, and then asking my father if he could take me for a walk. Back then, we weren’t allowed to be in my room or in the basement. I was the oldest, so Dad was strictest with me.
He loosened things up after Mark left. I think he felt guilty for limiting the time I was able to spend with him.
Dad never said anything, but I think he liked Mark for me. He wouldn’t have wanted me to get married and leave home at eighteen, but I always got the impression he was sad for me.
“This feels like old times, doesn’t it?” I asked him.
“Except usually, I’d be holding your hand.”
“Things were so easy back then.” The biggest thing we worried about was whether we should go all the way or not. Looking back, I wished he’d been my first, but at the same time, it would have been even harder when he left.
I would have been even more emotionally invested, if that were possible.
“It didn’t feel easy at the time.”
I’m sure it wasn’t for Mark. He had his dad’s expectations on his shoulders.
I itched to touch him. My fingers ghosted down his arm, curling around his forearm. “I’m glad you and Kendall moved here. I think this town will be good for her and for you.”
Mark smiled down at me. “Me too.”
We walked through town in silence. “Want to get ice cream?”
Our walks often ended with getting dessert. Mark worked for his father, so he always had money to spend.
Warmth spread through my chest as my fingers tightened around his arm. “There’s a new ice cream shop. They serve homemade sodas, and I feel like a root beer float.”
Mark gestured with a hand. “Lead the way.”
We walked along the water, side-stepping families and couples walking with dogs.
“There are new restaurants,” Mark said.
“The ones along the water change more frequently. The ones across from the marketplace have been there a while. Except for Max’s Bar & Grille.”
Mark opened the door to Georgia’s Ice Cream & Soda Shop for me, the air conditioning welcoming us in. The floors were a black-and-white pattern, with dark shelves behind the counter, and ice cream refrigerators.
We stood in line, Mark considering the many options for sodas. When we made it to the front of the line, I ordered a root beer float, and Mark ordered a lime soda with vanilla ice cream. “Good choice.”
“Have you tried all the options?”
“I have tried a lot, but I keep coming back to the root beer.”
“It’s a classic,” Mark said as we took our order number and found a two-person table along the wall.
