Page 189 of Story of My Life
We had just finished setting up all the lawn chairs when another guest arrived.
“Do I smell hot dogs?” Darius called as he wandered around the side of the house.
“Well, if it isn’t our honorable mayor,” Gage said. “What brings you to Hazel’s besides grilled meat?”
“I’ve got Summer Fest news.”
“Emilie found a way to get Labor Day canceled,” Laura guessed.
“Wrong-o, my friend. We managed to secure not one buttwoseparate bus trips. Story Lake is officially a tourist destination Monday.”
“Really?” I said.
“One is a day-trip group out of Brooklyn that had a family-friendly winery in the Finger Lakes cancel on them. The other is a senior citizens center from Scranton.”
Everyone hooted and hollered their approval.
“Let’s eat,” Frank said.
Eat we did. And laugh. And I silently celebrated when Felicity from next door cautiously joined us with a platter of fresh watermelon.
Cam pulled me over to the grass by the back door after we waved off Laura and her family. “You know, if this were my place, I’d add a deck off the back here. A place to keep the grill. Maybe a table and chairs and an umbrella.”
“Stop having expensive ideas about my house,” I said, even as I envisioned everything he’d just said.
“I’m just saying. It’s a good spot. Right off the kitchen. Then, of course, you’d have to do a patio over there, maybe with one of those fire pits. More entertaining space plus less grass for you to mow. Maybe hang some of those string lights.”
He was painting pictures in my mind. Of cozy nights around a fire with good wine and better friends. Of dinner parties and birthdays and regular Tuesday nights. I was going to have to learn to cook. And probably garden. And figure out how to start campfires.
“Would this imaginary deck have room for a ramp?” I asked.
His face softened, and I nearly fell over at the naked vulnerability there.
“You’d do that?” His voice was a jagged rasp.
I cleared my throat. “Well, not foryou, my casual driver’s ed fling. But I really like your sister, and I’d love for her to have access to my super awesome house. You know, if you ever finish it.”
“Yeah. I think we can figure out a ramp,” he said, looking at me in a way that I didn’t quite recognize. But the turbo-prop butterflies in my stomach sure felt nervous about it.
“Good. Write up one of your astronomical estimates and we’ll talk.”
“I’ll do that.”
“Cam?” I asked.
“Yeah, Trouble.”
“Are we dating?”
It was his turn to clear his throat. “What makes you say that?”
“That’s not a no,” I pointed out.
He lifted his beer. “What does it matter what we call it?”
“Cam, you know I don’t want to date. I don’t have time for a relationship.”
“Yet you keep making time for me.”
