Once we were adequately refilled, we ditched our shoes at the mouth of the path and strolled along the shore. Brecken asked the standard questions—where I lived, what I did for work, howoften I hid in bushes at parties—and I volleyed the same back to him.
He told me all the things he liked about the Hamptons and I told him why I was angry about the ending to a TV show I'd been following for longer than I could defend. It amounted to nothing—and that was what made it manageable. I didn't have to work too hard at sculpting answers into acceptable shapes and I wasn't overcome with the need to check for new messages from Jude.
All things considered, a fantastic way to kill an hour and plant the seeds that grow into an invasive weed.
As we approached the path back to my parents' property, Brecken brushed my elbow. A brief, functional touch. No tingles or belly butterflies involved. "I believe your mother intends to set us up. On a date," he added. "Or something more."
"I think you're right."
We stopped at the crest of the path, the beach stretching out into low tide on one side, the party in full swing on the other. "Would you be interested in that? In a date? Or something more?"
No way in hell was I touching thatsomething more. "Would there be blackmail involved? Now that you've set the precedent, I have to ask."
He barked out a laugh and slipped his hands into his pockets. "No blackmail," he said. "I would like to see you again."
I crossed my arms over my chest. "You live in New York, Brecken."
He bobbed his head several times. "I do."
"And I live in Boston," I said.I'm also in the middle of a traumatic experience that might turn into a breakdown if I don't get a text back in the next few days.
"That is true. Yep." He rocked back on his heels. "But I've heard there are roads between New York and Bostonnow. Surfaces made specifically for driving cars. And these unbelievable new things—what are they called again? Yes, trains. Have you heard about the trains?"
"I've heard rumors of these trains." I couldn't help but laugh. "It's still a long distance for a date."
"I have your number from when you made my day by bailing on lunch," he said. "Would it be okay if I messaged you sometime?" Before I could respond, he shook his head. "No, don't answer that. I'll text you. Respond or don't, your choice."
I stared at him for a long moment, sifting through the pieces of himself he'd shared and trying to pull the strands together into something I understood.
"It's that simple for you?" I asked.
His shoulders jerked up. "If you don't want to talk to me again, I'm not going to make you. That seems like a lot of work and I don't see how it would benefit me."
"A lot of work," I agreed, a bitter tinge in my words. I wanted to believe him but I had some experience with men cut from this cloth and I knew them to become vicious little tyrants when they didn't get precisely what they wanted.
Before I could say anything else, my mother approached, calling to Brecken, "It looks like you found her after all!"
"We bumped into each other." He gave me a chin tip that I read asSee? I didn't out you about the bushes. I'm clearly on your side.
My mother gushed for a few minutes about some local celebrity who'd arrived and departed all within the time we'd been on the beach, how much everyone loved the clams but the lobster was the real highlight this summer, and then someone she thought Brecken would like to meet.
He cut glances to me every so often and I could also hear him askingAre you invisible?because I might as well have been for all the attention my mother paid me.
If I'd trusted Brecken with more than the most basic bits of information about myself, I would've used words from his world and explained that I was a commodity here. Nothing more than a good to be bought and sold.
It was nice that he'd noticed, all the same. Most people didn't. Most were too busy buying and selling their own goods. Perhaps he wasn't cut from the same old cloth after all. Perhaps he was a rare exception to all of this.
"I hope you'll be staying the weekend," she said to him. "We'd love to host you again."
"I'm just here for the evening." He gestured to me like I knew what he was talking about. "Though I was telling Audrey I'm heading up to Boston this week. For some meetings." The leading tone in his words told me to get on board with the charade or get trampled under it. "We were just comparing schedules."
"Isn't that exciting," she drawled. "In that case, I'll get out of your way."
"Thank you. I'd appreciate the privacy," Brecken said firmly.
I tried to swallow a chuckle but I didn't pull it off. My mother frowned at that before taking her time getting back to the party. She glanced at us repeatedly, always grinning and waving, but also cataloging every detail she could find.
This was the life she wanted for me, no matter the cost. Clambakes and summer homes. Women who were never anything more than maidens or mothers. Men who bloodlessly controlled unimaginable sums of money. The narrow scope of power that came with being married into it all. To her, marriage was a vehicle for safety and stability, but it was also a stepping-stone. Relationships were currency in this world and this place was crawling with people who'd throw plenty of it at my father if it gave them the access they craved.
