Page 20 of Summer Romance

“I was going to leave tomorrow, but now with the whole Florida thing I don’t know. I need to clean out that house in order to sell it, and that could take all summer.”

He’s going to be here all summer, my mother says. Not that I needed that clarification. I heard him say it in my stomach before it actually hit my ears. This man with the shoulders and the hands and the steady gaze is going to be here all summer.

“And I don’t know what your schedule is like, but I’d like to see you. Maybe try for a second date?”

“I’m not sure,” I say.

“About what? It’s a second date, you don’t need to be sure about me yet.”

I smile at him and look back at the water. “You’re not a person for me to date. You live in another state, you’ve already told me you’re unreliable. Also, you’re Scooter.”

“Remember when I said I’d meet you at seven and then I showed up at seven? Maybe I’m totally reliable when it comes to you.”

We’re looking at each other, and I feel like I could watch him watching me all day. Maybe I could go on another date. “I’ll think about it,” I say.

“Fair enough. And, in the meantime, if you have time, I really do need help with the house. I could use an organizing expert.”

“Sure, I can help you.”

“Okay, name your price, because I’m sort of desperate.”

“I can’t charge you,” I say as a text comes in on my phone. It’s Pete: Back in 10. Lost the scrimmage, had pizza.

And maybe it’s the sight of Pete’s name on my phone, maybe it’s the word “pizza,” but the spell is broken. I am cast from this secret paradise Ethan’s created for me. “I’m sorry, can you get me home?”

Pete’s car isin the driveway when we get back to the house. He still has a key so I didn’t really need to race home. I’m a little disoriented. I feel like I walked through a wormhole and then back again. I grab Ferris from the backseat and hop out of the car.

“Thanks for the field trip,” I say.

“It was fun.”

I don’t want to close the door.

“Let’s start over,” he says. “Can I call you tomorrow?”

I look over my shoulder at my house. “I have my kids.”

“Of course,” he says. “Then you can call me.” He pulls out his phone and waits for me to give him my number. I do and he texts me, while I’m still standing right there: Call me.

“Where were you?”Pete asks as if it’s any of his business.

“Walking the dog,” I say, hanging up the leash. “How was it?”

“We lost,” Iris says. “The refs were totally blind.”

“Also, we were awful,” says Greer.

“Both things are true,” says Pete. He picks Cliffy up to give him a hug and kisses Greer and Iris on the tops of their heads. It’s poignant every time, this act of saying goodbye to people you used to live with. There was always a heaviness after I’d spent a day with my dad, like we were family but not as much as we used to be.

“Thanks for lunch,” Iris says.

“Yeah, thanks, Dad,” says Greer.

I see this register on his face. He is not a person they used to thank. Food and essentials just happened, like they were their birthright. “Of course,” he says. “See you guys Tuesday night. We’ve got to work on our offense.”

The air is strange when he’s left. Everyone’s quiet and we could really use a dose of Fancy. I try to imagine just what she’d do to change the energy. “Well,” she’d say, andclap her hands together. “I know just what we should do.” And we’d all lean in, waiting to hear what kind of fun she was about to hatch.

I work with what I have. “I was going to grill chicken tonight, but what if we turn it into a picnic and eat at the beach?”

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