“Found you!”
Shelby turned around to find Kate Hendrik a few feet behind her. She jumped up, forcing a smile on her face. Justin walked over to Kate, hugged her, and the two of them kissed with a deep intimacy that made Shelby uncomfortable.
Kate smoothed the hair from his forehead.
“Well, happy Fourth!” Shelby said with a cheer that felt grotesque. She walked away towards a dense part of the crowd, wanting to get lost. A firework burst into the sky, and she stopped to look up at the giant stars forming in blues and purples and gold. And then another—a smattering of red hearts. They peaked, then dissolved, disappearing from the sky like they were never there.
Forty
After a sleepless night, Shelby realized she should have just left Land’s End with Anders when he suggested it. Then she would have avoided that weird moment at the pier when she felt something for Justin.
But in the light of day, she knew the longing she’d experienced was just old habit—emotional muscle memory. And it made sense; she’d never given herself time to grieve the relationship. She’d left and never looked back. How could she have expected to see him for the first summer since then and feel nothing? It was unrealistic.
She checked her phone for any word from Anders, but nothing. Maybe that was what it was with an older man: fewer texts, more phone calls. Less interest in fireworks, more interest in cocktail parties. She should have been a grownup last night instead of acting like a nostalgic baby. So, she did what a mature, grown-up person did and got herself dressed, picked up two take-out cups of coffee, and walked over to Anders’s house. She knew as soon as she saw him, all thoughts of last night would disappear.
Hunter woke up next to Anders with one thought: that she’d had sex with one of the great literary voices of her generation. Well, of his generation.
The bedroom was awash in greens of every imaginable hue, a perfectly balanced yet imaginative palette. One of the things she loved about the town was that the interiors of even modest-looking homes often had an astonishing visual touch. She felt like she was on a film set. It was one of those perfect moments she wished she could post, but doubted Anders would appreciate that.
The doorbell rang. Anders sat up slowly, running his hand through his hair and looking around as if he wasn’t quite sure where he was.
“It’s bloody early for a visitor, wouldn’t you say?”
Hunter assumed it was a rhetorical question. He reached for his phone on the nightstand.
“Shit!” he said.
Hunter rolled towards him. “What is it?”
“Don’t mean to be rude—sincerely apologize. But you need to leave. I’m going to answer that door, bring my guest out back to the patio, and then you slip out the front.”
Hmm. This was sketchy—to say the least. Was there a girlfriend in the picture?
Hunter didn’t mind. If she wanted to lounge around in bed all morning with someone, she’d find herself a boyfriend. Still, she had to admit she was a little curious about the mystery lady.
Maybe after she left, she could sneak around back for a little peek.
It took a few rings of the doorbell, but when Anders finally opened the door it was with a big smile and a kiss. She didn’t realize she’d woken him until she followed him in and noted that his white T-shirt and rumpled khaki pants had clearly just been pulled on.
“I’m so sorry,” she said sheepishly. “I wanted to surprise you.” Mission accomplished, clearly. She walked inside and he took the coffees from her.
“And I’m so glad you did. Come, let’s sit out back on the veranda.”
In the kitchen, before they reached the back door, he said, “You go out and relax. I’ll bring out some croissants.”
He ushered her to the porch before she could offer to help.
Settling onto the couch in the same spot where she’d sat the other night, she inhaled deeply, glad she’d had the sense to stop by. Any uncomfortable feelings she had last night were already fading, no more significant than the fireworks show. A burst of color, a loud boom, but not real. Not real at all.
The hydrangeas to her left between Anders’s yard and his neighbor’s rustled loudly. She turned to look.
“Thanks for your patience.” Anders appeared, holding a tray of pastries and having changed into a fresh shirt, linen pants, and boat shoes. He hadn’t taken the time to shave his morning stubble, and she was glad. The contrast between his proper clothes and a weariness in his eyes that suggested an evening of debauchery was kind of sexy.
“Late night?” she said.
“Let’s just say you were quite brilliant to skip the party. Not worth the loss of sleep.”
“Well, you didn’t miss anything at the fireworks,” she said.
