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I put my head back in my hands. “I feel like a teenager, except in an alternate universe where my parents are encouraging me to have sex in the downstairs guest room.”
“Really? They’re encouraging us to have sex?” Lynx raised his eyebrows. “Iloveyour parents.” He stood and held his hand out to me.
“Lynx…”
“Come with me,” he murmured, pulling me from my chair, but more gently than my mom had with my dad.
Since he didn’t know where the stairs were that led to the lower level of the house, I was interested to see where he’d go. We went out to the screened-in side of the back porch and over to the daybed that hung by ropes from the ceiling.
“Looks sturdy enough,” he said, sitting down and pulling me with him.
“When my dad put it up, he made my brother and all his friends get on it to prove to my mom it was safe for the two of them to sleep on.”
“Do they?”
I shrugged. “I have no idea. I would if I were them.”
“Let’s do it, then.” Lynx scooted up the bed so his head rested on the pillow and held out his hand for me to join him.
“Lynx…what…I mean…what are we doing?”
“Just lie next to me.”
I scooted up like he had, and when he held his arms open, I snuggled up to him.
“Lynx?”
“Shh. Let’s just enjoy the peacefulness of this place for a bit.”
I loved the night sounds of Cape Cod Bay. Crickets and cicadas chirped, and every once in a while, an owl would hoot.
This house had been in our family for generations. My great-great-grandparents built it, and then each of their heirs had added their own touches to it. Growing up, I’d been the envy of all my friends who had to spend their summers in the heat and humidity of the city. I was never popular until a new batch of kids found out about the house down the Cape.
“What are you thinking about?” Lynx asked.
I shifted to roll my shoulders. “Spending summers here when I was growing up.”
“Why does that make you tense?”
I smiled even though he couldn’t see me. “Is it that obvious?”
“Your body speaks to me.”
“It does, does it?”
“It has since the moment we met.”
Whether it was true or a line, I loved the way it sounded.
“Tell me the good part of spending summers here.”
“So much. Watching the sunrise and sunsets from Nobscusset Point, all the lighthouses, eating littlenecks and cherrystones all summer. Laughing to the point my stomach hurt all the time.”
“Sounds wonderful. Tell me more.”
“Four-wheeling on Nauset Beach, lobster instead of turkey on Thanksgiving. That isn’t a summer memory, but it’s still a good one.” I realized that I was smiling and the tension had left my shoulders. “Dad used to take us out on the boat on the Fourth of July because he said the best view was from the water. Ricky would always bring friends along…Ricky was my brother.”
“Your father’s namesake.”
