The Summers

by Iva-Marie Palmer

  The entryway was so crisp and streamlined, white and clean like the sails of a boat that won every regatta. Nothing was overly ornate; the minimalism was what did it. It was the architectural equivalent of a perfect white blouse. This was a restaurant where any spill would show up and any embarrassment be magnified.

  “Two tables for Landry. I mean, table for two, Landry,” Ryan said, blushing as he fumbled the words. The hostess was a sleek blonde who looked like she’d come packaged as part of a Gourmet Restaurant play set.

  She gave us a close-lipped smile. “For what time?” Her tone was interested, but not convinced. I smiled back. She looked down at her reservation list.

  “Seven-thirty. We can sit at the bar if we’re too early,” Ryan said. He tapped his fingers nervously on the hostess stand, only stopping when the girl stared at his fingers.

  “And it’s Landry?” Hostess Barbie said.

  “Yes, I have a buddy . . . a contact, I mean . . . who said he’d speak to the owner. I’m in the restaurant business, too,” Ryan said. “My . . . contact is Russell, at Ocean Seafood?”

  “We know Russell,” the hostess said. “But I don’t have anything here for you. I’m sorry.”

  “Are you sure?” Ryan asked. I could tell he didn’t want to take no for an answer, but he didn’t want to start an argument here, either. “I mean, I could call him. I just talked to him this morning. . . .”

  He looked around, like Russell might appear from the back room and tell Ryan he’d been playing a prank and our table was fine. I could sense his panic that the evening would not shape up as he’d planned.

  “Don’t worry about it, Ryan,” I said, squeezing his arm. “We’ll just go somewhere else.”

  I pulled him toward the doorway. He resisted a little, looking once more toward the hostess, but she was already wrapped up in her reservation book again. The rain had mostly subsided now, leaving just little rivers of water in the cobblestones’ crevices. Ryan was looking at his phone. “I called for a reservation. Russell called. I should have had him e-mail me.” His voice was forlorn and defeated.

  “Really, we can go somewhere else,” I said. “I didn’t like the Real Hostess of Nantucket anyway.”

  Ryan chuckled at my joke, and I felt a little better on his behalf. “Well, we’re not going to be able to go anywhere nice without a reservation,” he said. “But I have a buddy who works at the Red Lion Pub. We could at least eat if we go there.”

  “That’s fine.” I smiled. “I’m starving.”

  The Red Lion Pub was a place where I would not embarrass myself. Or probably wouldn’t, at least. Ryan’s friend Dave, a chubby guy with the air of a leprechaun, didn’t check my ID and brought us two massive steins of beer. “You want burgers?” he asked.

  Ryan looked at me nervously, then back to Dave. “You don’t have like a steak dinner, or something? Not to be a snob, but we were supposed to go to Galley Beach.”

  “You totally sound like a snob, dude,” Dave said jovially. “The cooks can do steak, but honestly, our burgers are the best. Better than a steak at Galley Beach, I think.”

  “A burger would be amazing.” I looked at Ryan. “Really, this is perfect. And then mini golfing, right?”

  Ryan shook his head with a grin. “You probably planned this,” he said.

  Dave was right: The burgers were good. And the fries. And the beer. Dave started up a round of bar trivia. “We’ve got an all-fish theme tonight, folks,” he announced to the smattering of patrons that had signed up to play. It was me and Ryan versus a booth of guys who’d been drinking when we’d come in.

  “What famous director was also a voice in the movie Shark Tale?”

  Our competition started shouting over one another.

  “Spielberg!”

  “Nah, the guy who made Star Wars!”

  “What are you talking about? It’s not George Lucas!”

  Ryan looked at me. “It’s Scorsese, right?” I nodded. He gave the answer.

  “Point for the gentleman and his lady friend,” Dave said.

  Ryan and I high-fived.

  “Beginner’s luck,” called one of the guys, a small balding guy with a huge nose.

  “This film inspired a sequel whose tagline was, ‘Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water.’ ” Dave read the question into the mic.

  “Titanic!” One of the booth guys shouted.

  “Dummy, that didn’t have a sequel. Uh, Deep Blue Sea!” Our bald friend called out hopefully.

  I looked at Ryan. “Jaws?”

  “Yes, I can’t believe they don’t know that one.”

  This time, I gave the answer and we were awarded another point. Ryan kissed me. “My genius.”

  “Whatever,” I said. “This is like stealing candy from babies.”

  After a few more questions, most of which we got, one of the guys shouted across the bar, “We’re gonna buy you some beers.”

  “Yeah,” the bald guy added. “Maybe if we get you drunk enough, you won’t know everything!” We laughed, and when Dave arrived with the giant mugs, we saluted our competitors. By then, we’d racked up four more right answers.

  “I think we need to send you sympathy shots,” I shouted back after a long swig of beer. “Get those guys some tequila,” I told Dave. I pulled the money out of my purse to pay for it, insistent even when Ryan wanted to put it on his tab.

  “It was my idea,” I told him.

  “I know. Because you’re amazing,” Ryan said, pulling me into him and planting a kiss on my forehead.

  The night rolled on and I didn’t give a second thought to the original plans. Every so often, Ryan would say something like, “This was supposed to be so much nicer. You deserve a real date.”

  Every time, I kissed him on the lips and said, “This is the perfect real date. I’m having the best time.”

  I was, and even with some of his worries, it seemed like Ryan was, too.

  When our losing competitors left, Ryan looked at his watch. “Oh my God, we’re going to miss the last ferry. Your sister will kill me.” He threw some cash down, thanked Dave, and we barreled out of the restaurant. Now rain was coming down in sheets. The music had been so loud in the Red Lion that I hadn’t heard a thing. Ryan’s jacket was no match for the downpour.

  “Don’t worry about the rain. Let’s run,” I said. I took off my shoes and we ran in the direction of the dock. But we were still a few blocks away when we heard the distinct bellow of the ferry’s departure horn.

  “I can’t believe it,” Ryan said as we ducked under an awning for cover. “This whole night has been ruined. It was supposed to be different.”

  “This whole night has been awesome, except that you’re worried about everything being perfect,” I told him, soaked by the warm rain. I was tipsy and the running had me out of breath. Even as a runner, the panicked sprint in bare feet and a date dress after several drinks was new for me.

  “You’re sure you’re not mad?”

  I stepped from under the awning and turned my face up to the sky, enjoying the fat, friendly raindrops. “Do I look mad? This was wonderful. I had no idea Nantucket could be so much fun.”

  Ryan joined me in the rain. His wet shirt clung to his chest, and I let him pull me against him. He kissed me slow and long as his hands ran down my sides. I trembled, and clutched his waist. “Yeah, I guess this isn’t so bad,” he said, looking down me. Water dripped off his lashes onto my face. “It was kind of fun, kicking those guys’ asses at trivia. And being with you.”

  The rain was slowing, but it clearly wasn’t going to be stopping anytime soon.

  “There’s an inn attached to the Red Lion,” Ryan said. “I’m sure Dave can swing us a room, if you’re okay staying overnight.”

  “I’d much rather do that than swim back,” I said, already excited at the prospec
t of having utter privacy with Ryan.

  By the time we were in our small but cozy hotel room, my dress clung to me. My hair was drenched and stuck to my back. Ryan’s shirt was so wet, I could see the outline of every muscle, like he was the human embodiment of one of those cheap souvenir T-shirts they sold on the boardwalk, with a fit man’s torso printed on the front.

  I couldn’t help it, I started laughing.

  Ryan joined in, pulling me to him, laughing so deeply I could feel his body’s vibrations against mine. And then he was kissing me. Our sodden clothes glued us together but Ryan drew me in even tighter, his arms folding into my back and drawing me into him. His eyes traced the planes of my face, and I felt myself shudder with pleasure. The way he looked at me felt almost as good as his touch.

  He gently pulled one strap of my dress down my shoulder, then the other, easing me out of it. I slowly undid his buttons, peeling his wet shirt away from him, running my fingertips over his skin.

  Ryan brought me down onto the bed, kissing my jaw, my chin, and my chest before working his way back up to my face. He pushed my hair out of my eyes and hovered over me. He wrapped a strand of my hair around his fingertip.

  “I love you,” he said.

  He loved me? “You’re crazy,” I said.

  “Are you serious? I do. And the fact that you think I’m crazy is sort of just another thing to love about you,” he said. “You have no idea how amazing you are.”

  His skin was touching mine, and even though I was naked, I felt warm and protected beneath him.

  “But you loved Eliza, too, didn’t you?” Why I brought up Eliza right now, I wasn’t sure.

  “That was a summer fling.”

  “You could say that about us.”

  Ryan leaned back, thinking. “No, with Eliza, she was this girl I put on a pedestal. Like she only came around once a year, so she was some kind of comet or something. But you can’t really hold on to a comet. You don’t even want to try,” Ryan said, still holding me as he explained. “You just stand back and admire. So even though we were together, we were never really together in the way that matters. With you, I feel something real. You’re real.”

  “What do you mean?” I knew I was pushing too hard, but I didn’t want him to stop. Every new revelation sent a shiver of pleasure down my spine.

  “You don’t expect things to be handed to you, or to be everyone’s favorite,” he said, and I couldn’t help but make the comparison to Eliza in my mind. “You know exactly how to be you—this girl, no, this woman, who makes me want to see my dreams through. You’re inspiring. You inspire me. Like I said, this is real. Unreal, too. Because I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. So, I’ll say it again: I love you.”

  I’d heard “I love you” before, but never like this. With Matt, it was sweet, but perfunctory. Even though I’d lost my virginity to him, I half knew at the time that it wasn’t true love as much as it was a truly solid relationship.

  But Ryan Landry loved me. And, somehow, that pushed me to finally let go of everything else I attached to him—Eliza, our childhood—and just let us be us, in the moment. Whatever happened next, one thing was true right now.

  “I love you, too.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  AFTER A RAINSTORM, a blue sky on the Cape was like no blue sky anywhere. My mom had always said it was impossible to paint—no mix of colors could capture the fresh, rich hue of such a true azure.

  Even the air wafting in through the gauzy white curtains had a newness to it, though whether that was from the rain or from the events of the night before, I wasn’t sure.

  I rolled toward Ryan on the pillow, planting slow, languid kisses along his neck and shoulder. He murmured in pleasure and I continued to his chest, feeling my body give way to his. I curled one bare leg over his as he pulled me on top of him. He fumbled for protection on the nightstand and eased into me. We went slow, kissing and touching with our eyes wide open. We’d always been together at night, and everything right now felt fresh, almost innocent. We were seeing each other, and feeling each other, in the light.

  He traced up the side of my body with his fingertip. He was looking at me almost reverently. “You’re so beautiful,” he said.

  I bent down to him, pressing my bareness against his. “No, you are,” I told him.

  We moved together, quietly, but with a sureness of each other’s bodies that we’d been developing since that first time. We fit together in so many ways, and together we felt complete.

  After, enjoying the liquid sense in my limbs and through my body, I could have lain in bed with Ryan all day, pretending the sky was just ours, and replaying every word he’d said last night. But then I remembered Eliza’s words before I’d left.

  “I have a dress fitting! My final one. Oh God. She’d going to kill me.” I sprang out of bed, looking around the room for my clothes.

  “She’s going to kill me more.” Ryan was already upright and halfway into his pants. “Okay, we’ll hit the first ferry and I’ll drive you straight there. Garrett can go to the restaurant to sign for orders if he has to.”

  “Oh no, I’m a mess,” I said. I may have been beaming on the inside, but my exterior was a different story. My hair hung in knotty clumps and my eyes were rimmed with runny mascara. I splashed water on my face and ran a nubby washcloth over my skin, lathering my body quickly with the small bar of soap.

  Last night’s clothes were a catastrophe. My dress was still soaked and sat in a wrinkled pile. I had nothing else to wear, so it was going to have to do. It wouldn’t be pretty, but I was sure I wasn’t the first bridesmaid to show up for her final fitting looking worse for wear.

  Ryan had paid the bill by the time I was able to make myself at least partially presentable. We hightailed it to the ferry, and fortunately were able to board a boat that was already docked.

  My phone was buzzing, but I avoided looking at it. I didn’t even want to know what frantic state my sisters were in. Once we were back in Ryan’s truck, though, I checked the messages. Three calls from Eliza and several texts from Becca and Tea.

  “WHERE R U? ELIZA PISSED,” Becca’s latest read.

  “On way,” I texted back, then put my phone in Ryan’s center console to charge. There was nothing I could do now but get there.

  Ryan was on his headset, walking Garrett through what orders to expect from which suppliers. He was calm under pressure, going just a little over the speed limit and talking in a professional, measured tone. He was nothing like some of the restaurateurs I’d seen on TV, all bluster and anger.

  We pulled up to Lucy’s, parking behind the building. Ryan asked Garrett to hold on, then pulled me in for a kiss. “You’re okay if I head to the restaurant?” he asked.

  “I think so,” I said. “I don’t think they’ll abandon me here. And if they do, it’s not that far a walk.”

  “If you’re sure,” he said, then grinned at me. “Thanks for the best date of my life.”

  Even though I was anxious to get inside, thoughts of last night, and this morning, made me smile instantly. “Thank you.”

  He mouthed the words “I love you” and I mouthed them back. Though I was headed to my doom, I practically skipped around the corner of the building to the front entrance.

  Where I ran smack into Eliza.

  She looked me up and down, my ratty dress and hair a dead giveaway that I hadn’t been home. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said. She had bags under her eyes and her lips were pressed thin.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “We missed the last ferry back last night and had to go to an inn and we fell asleep and I didn’t think to set an alarm. . . .” Excuses tumbled from my mouth, but Eliza’s expression didn’t change.

  “Of course you didn’t think,” she said. “No, check that. You think, but only of yourself. I brought us here so we’d have memories, together.
And you’ve basically locked yourself away from the rest of us. No, you have locked yourself away from the rest of us. Even the thing that comes so naturally for you, writing, you can’t do. Forget that you’re the maid of honor in my wedding. What kind of sister are you? Or are you a solo act now? Because this whole summer has been the Kate Show. Kate’s big job, Kate’s fun summer fling with Ryan Landry . . . Does he know that you’re only with him so that you can feel like the star?”

  I’d been prepared, happy even, to apologize to Eliza. I had been planning to serve myself up on a platter as her utterly devoted servant from now until the wedding. But her treating Ryan and I like some kind of nothing was way below the belt. We were not just a throwaway summer romance.

  “Look, I get that you’re mad. But what right do you have to call me and Ryan a summer fling? You don’t know anything about it.”

  Eliza blew out a sharp, sarcastic breath and rolled her eyes. “I know that you want whatever’s mine, and I had Ryan first.”

  My blood was boiling now. “Name one thing?”

  “God, these sandals.” Eliza pointed down at her feet, at my mom’s mermaid sandals. My mermaid sandals.

  “I’m getting married. I wanted something of Mom’s. But when I picked these up, you acted like I’d just taken your firstborn.”

  “I didn’t say anything,” I protested.

  “You didn’t have to. It’s the look of horror you give whenever I get something,” Eliza said.

  “Those were mine! Don’t you even remember? The art fair, when you got the pressed-heart pendant? Mom bought those for me and her. You didn’t even like them!” I yelled.

  “Well, you should have said something,” she said. She paused, looking down at the shoes. “I do remember, now. But instead of taking everything as me doing something to you, why don’t you take responsibility for yourself and speak up when you’re upset?”

  “Because I always think you’ll still just take whatever you want. You think everything belongs to Eliza. Well, guess what? Lots of things you think are yours just aren’t.” My voice was loud. If any windows were open in Lucy’s studio, my younger sisters would surely hear me.