Page 75 of Summer Reading

His voice was very soft when he asked, “What nickname was that?”

“Simple Sam,” I said. I tipped my head back and stared up at the sky. “Kids can be very on point in their cruelty.”

“Maybe some can,” he snorted. “But not those kids.”

I looked at him in surprise.

“You are one of the most complex people I’ve ever met,” he said. “And I mean that in a good way. You have a memory that is like a vault, you can problemsolve in ways that my tiny brain can’t even come up with, you’re wickedly funny and so damn resilient that I am in awe of you. Truly, whoever gave you that nickname was a moron, and if you happen to have a name and address, I’d be happy to go crack some skulls on your behalf.”

I blinked. My throat was tight. Was that how he saw me? Really?

No. He’s just being nice to you because he feels sorry for you.My inner critic was right there to slap away any positivity.

“You’re very kind,” I said.

“No, I’m not. You should see yourself the way I see you,” he said. He turned so we were facing each other. “You are a culinary wizard precisely because your brain is wired completely differently. You intuit things that the rest of us can’t even imagine because you are extraordinary.”

I had no words. What he said meant so much to me that I simply couldn’t speak. I rolled up on my toes, wrapped my arms around his neck, and hugged him tight. He was warmth and strength and kindness, and I just wanted to be absorbed into him. His arms slid around me, pulling me into him as if it was my special place.

I rested my head on his shoulder and said, “Thank you.”

“Just stating the facts,” he said. He propped his chin on my head.

A tear slipped out, melting into the fabric of his shirt. It was an amazing thing, the way this man made me see myself through his eyes. It humbled me. It made me want to return the favor, but the only way I could would be to help him find his dad. I didn’t say this, however. Instead I leaned back to meet his gaze.

“I like you,” I said.

His smile was adorable. “I like you, too.”

“No, Ireallylike you,” I said. It was as close as I could get to confessing the feelings that were simmering inside of me.

“Listen, I really like you, too,” he said.

A thrill coursed through me that I immediately checked. This was a summer situation, nothing more. I was only here for another month and he was an interim director, not permanent. He’d be headed back to his academic job soon, too.

“Speaking of listening, you didn’t happen to bring our book with you, did you?” I asked.

“Of course I did,” he said. “I never go anywhere without something to read. It’s in the top box on my bike.”

“Yes!” This was some couple time I could get behind.

“Ready to go home?” he asked.

I glanced at the time on my phone. It was nine thirty. “Tyler is supposed to be home by ten. I should be there first.”

“Understood.” He turned up one of the paths that cut across the grass by the gazebo.

As we walked, I said, “Maybe if you told your mother you were actively looking for your father, she’d be more inclined to help you.”

He looked unconvinced. “My mother can be...”

He didn’t finish and I bit my tongue to keep from guessing, but adjectives likedifficult,stubborn, andmeanswirled around my brain.

Which was why I was surprised when he said, “Guarded.”

I waited for him to explain.

“She’s not on any social media, she doesn’t grant interviews, she’s reclusive, and she’s fiercely protective of her privacy. Even when she’s performing public art, like the lighthouse episode, she doesn’t talk to the press.”

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