Page 74 of The Summer of Everything

Leeann wipes her hand on a brown paper napkin, then dives back into her tea. “I’m kind of dreading the menu planning next month. You think Grace is bad? Wait until Mei Chen critiques a caterer on traditional spring rolls.”

Wes has never met Leeann’s parents. They live in Oakland. But he can’t imagine anything worse than Grace—except maybe Leo.

He plays with the crystalized sugar on top of his blueberry muffin. His Darjeeling sits near his left hand, growing cold. Kyra keeps shooting him death glares from behind the bar. It’s a special white tea, the coffee shop’s featured Brew of the Week, but he doesn’t have it in him to enjoy it.

Usually, it would’ve been Nico handing him a cup of tea, not Kyra.

Nico.

It’s been a solid two days since Wes said the stupidest shit imaginable and Nico stormed out of the bookstore. To Wes’s surprise, Nico returned with a burrito for him. They didn’t talk about it. Nico restocked shelves; Wes bummed around the front counter. But he still can’t shake it.

“So.” Leeann jabs at the melting ice in her cup. “Are we going to talk about what’s got you so distracted, or would you like to discuss how I was dropping hints about the wedding party to see if your lazy brother finally got the balls to ask you to be his best man?”

“He hasn’t.”

“Huh.” Leeann’s got her phone in one hand, tapping away. “Noted.”

“Stop,” Wes pleads while pawing at her phone. “I really don’t feel like dealing with Leo at the moment.”

“Fine.” Leeann lowers her phone. “But we’re talking about whatever’s got your brain all fuzzy. I swear, Hudson men are like Fort Knox.”

Wes doesn’t disagree. Truthfully, he isn’t up for discussing Nico. Something in his brain keeps reminding him that Nico’s the last thing he should be thinking about. Not when there’s the bookstore and UCLA and certain doom the moment he answers one of his dad’s texts.

“How do you know this is what you want?” asks Wes.

“This?”

“Yeah, like.” Wes circles his hand around his head, as if that explains anything. “Life. You’re only twenty-three. How do you know you want to get married? To be in love? To drink green iced tea of all things?”

Leeann’s hair flies in front of her face when she snorts.

Wes continues. “How do you know you want to be a pediatrician? That you wanted to go to Pepperdine? That, every morning, you know what the hell is going on and still don’t have a meltdown?”

Leeann blinks at him a few times, then shrugs. “I don’t.”

“Youdon’t?” Wes’s screechy voice alarms a couple as they walk in.

“No, I don’t.” Leeann scoops hair behind her ears. “Not always.”

Wes face-palms into both hands. The fortune cookie lied. His horoscope misrepresented his future.

“I take everything one step at a time. And even then, I sometimes trip. I’ve made some awful decisions, before and after meeting Leo,” Leeann says.

Wes nods into his hands. He knows Leeann’s not perfect—her love of iced tea proves that—but as far as great examples go, she’s the closest this world has to flawlessness.

“I almost went to Ohio State.” Leeann grins when Wes peeks from behind his fingers. “I know, right? O-freaking-hio.”

Wes mouthsWowat her.

“I didn’t always get along with my parents. And Grace was the epitome of a perfect daughter. I wanted to scream all the time. I had to get far away.” She clears her throat. “I didn’t know what I was going to study or who the hell I’d know out there. But I was going.”

“What happened?”

Leeann stares down into her cup. “Perfect little Grace had a pregnancy scare. My parents flipped the F out.”

Wes loves that, sometimes, Leeann refuses to use actual swear words while talking. She says she’s preparing for a life in childcare. Admirable, but still funny as fuck.

“My mom begged me to reconsider my plans.” She shrugs again. “It was the first time I felt like she cared. Like, ifanythinghappened to me, she’d never survive it. I dunno—it made me feel loved. Morbid, right?”

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