Page 49 of Summer Light on Nantucket

“That’s a little cold.”

“No, wait. Let me say it. It islovelyseeing you again. But our lives are so different. I don’t think we should imagine a future together.”

Aaden reached out and held her hand. “I’d be happy imagining a full night together.” The intimate touch of his skin, the charming lilt in his speech, woke memories.

She pulled her hand away. “Don’t try to be seductive, please. I need to be realistic.”

“What we had was real.”

“That was years ago, Aaden.”

“True. And here we are now, together, and I want you as much as I always did. Remember the time I kidnapped you from attending assembly and we hid in a supply closet and kissed for almost an hour?” He smiled his bad-boy smile, inviting her to join him in memories.

Blythe nodded. Remembering flushed through her.

Aaden leaned toward her, his voice low and urgent. “I was desperately in love with you. Have you considered what might have happened if you had come to Ireland with me? We could have lived all the times of our lives together. Blythe, I regret that every day. But we still have time. Iamcoming back to Nantucket. Fate has brought us together again, and I will not refuse to take a chance.”

God, he was beautiful, Blythe thought. She had loved him more than any other man; even after she had lost him, she had loved him more than she’d loved Bob. Her heart cramped with guilt. She hoped Bob hadn’t known.

She cleared her throat, sniffing back tears. “Take a chance, you say. You sound like you’re gambling.”

“Ah, sure, and what love isn’t a gamble? Taking a breath is a gamble. Life is a gamble.”

Aaden took her hand again, and this time she did not take it away.

“Gamble on me now, Blythe. I’m a sure bet.” His smile blazed.

Absolutely like a lightbulb flicking on, a thought flared. Blythe was almost surprised when she spoke. “But canyougamble onme?”

She assumed he’d be shocked, even hurt. Instead, Aaden laughed.

“Ah, that’s why I love you, Blythe. You can still surprise me. You always could. That’s why we’re so electric together. I want you to come to Ireland. Stay for two or three weeks. This summer. I’ll show you around and I know it will call to you.”

“I don’t know…”

She remembered how she was with him, different, more carefree, even wild. In high school, they had egged each other on in small mischiefs like skipping assembly, kissing in the supply closet. Just being with him was like climbing onto a motorcycle, arms wrapped around him as they sped away.

But now she had children. She couldn’t afford to gamble.

Aaden sensed her thoughts.

“Let’s do this. Let’s agree to text each other. Facetime each other. Get to know each other. I don’t want to lose you again.”

“Yes, let’s do that.” It was a good idea, Blythe thought.

They left the restaurant. Aaden drove Blythe home and kissed her chastely at the door to her house.

Not until Aaden was driving away did Blythe think,But Aaden didn’t lose me. He left me. He will always leave me for Ireland.How could she compete with an entire country?

And did she even want to? Was she attracted to Aaden simply because he was attracted to her?

—

Their summer days fell into a pattern. In the mornings, the children slept in, spread like starfish on their beds or curled up into a lump in their covers, enjoying the luxury of free days. They took the bus all over the island, or Miranda drove them when everyone wanted to go to the same beach. Blythe washed sheets and beach towels, swept up the never-ending scatterings of sand, cut flowers from the backyard and arranged them in vases around the house. She made cakes with buttercream icing, and the cakes were gone in a day. She sliced peppers, carrots, and cucumbers, arranged them in a glass bowl in the refrigerator until, in the late afternoon, the kids came thundering back into the house, diving onto the food like gulls at the harbor.

She planted cherry tomatoes in several different plots, and geraniums with flowers like pink and white candy, and begonias and pansies. In a small room off the kitchen, once a pantry, Blythe had established a kind of office with a small desk for her laptop, printer, and Post-its scribbled with reminders. Each square on her large wall calendar was filled. Cocktail parties with old summer friends. Volunteer work for several non-profits. Nick called every day, and one night she joined him and Sandy and Hugh for a gala dinner for A Safe Place. She’d been glad to see him, but there was no chance for private conversation. When she was at the beach or as the children came in from a long beach day, Blythe snapped informal photos on her phone, printed them off, and stuck them to the refrigerator with the alphabetmagnets she’d bought for Miranda seventeen years ago. She always knew when the kids saw the photos because she heard screams of laughter in the kitchen. Aaden texted her from Ireland, sending photos of the Ha’Penny Bridge and St. Michan’s church and she sent back photos from the beach.

She was restless. Something in her life had changed. She wasn’t frightened. She wasn’t angry. She was…excited. Hopeful. Something was out of control. She felt like a woman waiting for the Powerball numbers to come up while she held her scratch ticket. Not that she’d ever played the lottery. She was too cautious for that.

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