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But a test of what? My loyalty? My friendship? My prowess?
Okay, I was losing it thinking that hard about a cat. But it was Nolan’s cat, and somehow that felt important.
A few minutes later, we were all in my car and driving to Anthony and Maris’s house.
Their clambake was always a big event. They’d set up two tents in the backyard, which came in handy, especially during inclement weather, so guests could eat and socialize at the tables. There was also an area at the back of the property with a firepit and a wooden deck, where some gathered now because the rain had held off and the temperature was mild.
“Hey there,” Anthony said from behind the grill where he and his brother were normally stationed. They both wore aprons bearing large red lobsters and some ridiculous saying.
Maris and her mother provided everyone with name tags so guests could get to know each other better. I felt like I was in some sort of teachers’ training workshop, but knowing names helped add a layer of familiarity.
After introductions, Maris handed us red or blue tickets to remind us how many clams we’d ordered on their online form. Like I said, a big deal, and how they managed this every year, I didn’t know. But they obviously loved hosting, and it was always a good time.
“Wow, I’m impressed,” Shana said as she wrote her name in Sharpie, then attached the sticker to her shirt.
We filled Solo cups with beer from the keg, then joined Perry under the lights strung from their garage to a gigantic maple tree. He eyed us curiously, but then we all started chatting away with other guests, some I recognized from past events.
Soon enough, chicken, clams, corn on the cob, and baked potatoes were being served, and we found seats under the tent to enjoy our meals. I sat next to Shana on one side of the table while Nolan joined Perry across from us.
“So good,” Shana said, dipping a clam in butter.
“Told you so,” I replied as Perry seemed to watch our interactions closely. Maybe Nolan was right about his suspicions, or maybe I was just reading too much into it. Or hell, maybe he was a bit envious because it’d been a while since he’d shown up anywhere with a date, and he seemed totally miserable about it, even though he didn’t voice it. Not that this was a date, of course, but I had a feeling he was trying to determine how it was going, which felt like a lot of pressure.
Nolan wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Yeah, the food is always good.”
“I heard that! Thank you,” Anthony said as he passed by with his own plate to join Maris and their families at the other end.
As we finished our dinner, Maris stood to thank everyone for coming. “We’ve got plenty of beer, and don’t forget about the desserts.”
“Oh God, there’s more?” Shana asked, patting her stomach.
I laughed. “You don’t want to pass up Maris’s brownies.”
Once we threw away our plates and sampled some dessert, we made our way to the firepit. This was my favorite part of the evening, when the guests who were musicians brought out their instruments and jammed. It wasn’t perfect and definitely a bit of a mishmash, but somehow we got it together by the middle of the third song. I wished I had my acoustic with me instead of plucking away on my electric bass, without the amp of course, but it was the best I could do since the robbery.
“Play ‘Brown Eyed Girl,’” Maris called out as we finished another song. Shana seemed to be enjoying herself, singing along to the more popular tunes.
By midnight, we were exhausted and smelled like smoke because that stuff seeped into your skin and clothes.
“Thanks for letting me tag along. That was fun,” Shana said on the way home.
Nolan smiled. “Glad you came.”
“Thanks for saying that,” she said as we exited the car. “You two are adorable together, by the way.”
I felt a beat of panic. “Do we look like we’re—”
“Nah, it’s probably because I know. Just be gentle with yourselves while you figure stuff out. Nobody should be in your business or dictate your happiness except you.”
We watched as she pulled away, then walked inside.
“I’m gonna jump in the shower,” Nolan said, sniffing the inside of his tee.
“Yeah, me too,” I replied at my door. “I don’t plan on smelling like a campfire all night.”
“Come over after if you want.” He shyly looked away. “No pressure.”
I knew he was giving me the space to stay in my own apartment because he knew it was healthy and progress for me in my recovery. But it was also increasingly hard not having him with me one way or another.
Once I got inside my apartment, I toed out of my shoes and reached for a towel, only to change my mind. Grabbing my phone and keys, I went upstairs to his place.
