Rory looked at the phone and then at the clock. It was pitch-black outside, and through the open window she heard the agitated pulse of crickets. She couldn’t put it off any longer. Three weeks had passed, it was a holiday, and if she didn’t do this tonight, then the silence between her and her mother would go from imagined to very, very real. As usual, she would have to be the one to make the first move. At home, this involved walking up to her mom’s door, knocking three times, and apologizing through the door. But she couldn’t do that now. She grabbed the cell phone lying nearby on the duvet and dialed. It rang several times. At least the landline was still on—that was a relief.
A man picked up. “Yeah?” he said, as video-game gunfire sounded in the background.
“Hi, Bryan!” she said, forcing herself to sound cheerful. “Is my mom there?”
“Hold on one second,” he said. A particularly loud explosion sounded behind him. Then she heard the cordless phone drop to the carpet. “Lana?” he yelled. “Phone!”
There was a scrabbling sound, and finally she heard someone pick up the extension. “Hang it up!” her mom shouted in the background.
Bryan clicked off.
“Hello?” her mom said, her voice as smooth and warm as hot caramel.
“Hi, Mom. It’s me.”
“Rory!” her mom said. “I’ve been thinking about you. How are you, honey?”
Her mom’s expansive mood could mean only two things: She’d had two glasses of Chardonnay, and Bryan had moved in.
“I’m fine,” Rory said. “I just thought I’d call because it’s been a while since we talked. Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s just wonderful. It is. Bryan and I are just having so much fun together. Really,” she said. “You would just love him. How’s everything there?”
“Great. Fee says hi.”
“That’s nice,” her mom said. “And honey, everything worked out with Bryan. He’s just the best. He helps around the house, he fixed the toilet so it doesn’t run all the time, and we’re just having an amaaaaazing time.”
“That’s great,” Rory said, inwardly cringing at her mom’s teen-speak. “I’m really happy for you.”
“You’ll see when you get back,” her mom said. “I think you’re going to really enjoy having him around.”
“So he’s moved in,” Rory said.
“Yeah, he was having some trouble with his roommates. But it’s all wonderful. And now we have to get going. Stacey’s having a party down at the lake. What are you doing tonight?”
“Some of the other staff went to watch the fireworks, but I’m kind of tired tonight. I thought I’d just stay home and do some summer reading.”
“Well, that’s my daughter!” her mom said. “Staying home on the Fourth of July.”
I guess it is, Rory thought.
“We’ll talk soon, honey.”
“Good-bye, Mom,” Rory said. She hung up the phone and placed it on the nightstand, right on top of the wrinkled cover of A Confederacy of Dunces, which she was supposed to be reading for English. How appropriate, Rory thought. It was the perfect title for her mom and Bryan.
She sighed and put her head down on the soft white bedspread. At least that was over. Now she could think about Connor.
She plucked at the edges of the bandage on her hand. This morning’s dramatic incident with the crazy dog seemed like a year ago. Was it really possible that just a few hours earlier she’d sat next to him on the chaise by the pool as he bandaged her hand? Was it really possible that he’d held on to her hand for minutes on end? Was it really possible that he’d said he was worried she might leave and go home?
She turned over on her back and, still smiling at the memory, looked up at the ceiling fan. But then she remembered the disapproval on Steve’s face. She knew that Steve wasn’t trying to be a buzzkill. For him to give her a lecture like that, he had to at least think that he was saying the right thing. Connor Rule was off-limits. Even if he did feel the same way about her, which she wasn’t sure about, it still couldn’t happen between them. Dating Connor could only ever be a bad idea. And you always paid for bad ideas in the end. Look at her mom, she thought. She’d decided not to tie herself down and get married when she got pregnant, but to be a bohemian earth mother instead. Which was the first of many bad decisions for Lana McShane.
A yawn overtook her, and she pulled down the duvet. Just as she reached for her book, she heard the sound of a car coming up the drive. She looked at the clock. Eight thirty. Someone was home early—very early. She listened as the car made its long approach and then parked. The purr of the engine sounded familiar. With a pounding heart, she got up and went straight to the window and very carefully peeked through the curtains.
The silver Audi was there. She jumped back out of sight. There was the sound of footsteps. Connor. He was alone. And now the two of them were going to be alone in this house together.
She wanted to jump up and down from excitement, but she forced herself to stand still. As she listened, the back door opened. Footsteps came into the hall and continued on into the kitchen. She let out her breath. It was now or never, she thought, slipping her feet into her flip-flops. She had to let him know she was here. She’d just pretend she needed a snack from the fridge. And if he didn’t want to hang out, then she’d make a discreet exit.
As she padded down the hall, she could hear him in the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets and drawers, unwrapping plastic. When she got to the swinging door, she bravely pushed it open. “Hey,” she said, walking into the kitchen. “Early night?”
Connor looked up from the mess of cold cuts that he’d placed on the counter. “Hey,” he said, smiling in a way that made her belly flip-flop. “I didn’t know you were home. You didn’t go to Sag Harbor?”
“No, I just felt like staying in.”
“Cool,” he said, letting his smile linger. “Come on in. Can I make you a sandwich?”
“Oh. That’s okay. I was just looking for one of the chocolate chip cookies.” She felt like she was floating. She’d been wishing for this all day. Now it was actually happening.
“So how’s the hand?”
“Good,” she said, holding it up. “Bandaged by a master.”
“Great. Does it hurt?”
Rory shook her head. “I think it was pretty small. What are you doing home? I thought there was a big party at the club.”
“There was. But I left.” He slapped some turkey on a slice of bread. “The Georgica Club really isn’t my thing.”
“Haven’t you been going there your whole life?”
“There were a few years when we stopped going. We’d spend Fourth of July here on the beach. Have a bunch of people over and everyone would bring blankets. It was so much more fun,” he mused. “Now it’s this forced socializing. It all feels so uptight there. Or maybe I’m just not in the Fourth of July mood tonight.”
She laughed. “I know what you mean. I just got off the phone with my mom. Five minutes talking to her and the last thing I feel like doing is celebrating anything.”
“I hear that,” he said.
“But you and your mom seem to get along so well,” she said.
“Well, we already have one rebel in the family. What choice do I have?” His smile was rueful.
“So you’re the good son. In capital letters.”
“Kind of,” he said. “It’s just easier that way. What about you?”
“Well, my mom got back together with her boyfriend, so now she’s no longer mad at me for coming here.”
“Good for you,” he said with a smile. “That probably took some guts.”
“Yes and no,” she said. “If I’d stayed in New Jersey this summer, I might have lost my mind. It was really just survival instinct kicking in.” Just then, she heard a loud pop from outside, and then a distinctive crackle. “Are those the fireworks?”
Connor put down the knife. “They’re starting. You want to go down to the beach and watch?”
She swallowed. This was more than she’d expected. “Sure. I’ll get a sweater.”
She ran down the hall into her room. Down on her knees, she hunted for her sneakers under the bed, finally found them, and crammed her feet into them. Just stay calm, she thought, lacing them up. Don’t be too excited. He’s just being friendly.
With a chunky sweater in her arms, she dashed back into the hall. Connor had a blanket in his hands. “You ready?” he asked.
Don’t look at the blanket, Rory thought. Just don’t look at it. “Sure,” she said.
As they walked out to the patio, an exploding firework took the shape of a weeping willow and then slid down the sky. “Wow,” she said. “It is a good view.”
“It’s so much better from the sand,” he said. “Come on.” He grabbed her hand and led her across the patio and down the creaking wooden planks.
When she reached the bottom, a loud sigh and whistle rang through the air. She looked up to see purple and gold rockets fly through the sky in all directions. Connor had been right. This was like having their own private fireworks display. They walked east down the beach, until there was nothing behind them but a large, grass-covered dune.
He lay the blanket down on the sand. “Go like this,” he said, lying back on the blanket so that he looked up at the stars. She did the same thing. Their shoulders touched, but she tried not to think about that. Above them one explosion after another became a brilliant kaleidoscope of color.
“This is amazing,” she murmured.
His shoulder pressed into hers.
Over and over, lights sizzled and flamed in the air, taking different shapes.
He’s going to kiss me, she thought. Before we go back in the house, he’s going to kiss me. It was almost too much to believe. She thought about Steve’s concerned face, everything he’d said. Maybe she needed to be worried. Maybe this was all a bad idea. But lying here, feeling the warmth of his body so close, she knew that this was exactly where she wanted to be.
They stayed there for what seemed like an hour, watching the lights burst into shape in the sky. When all that was left was the echo of explosions and the acrid smell of smoke drifting over the water, they sat up on the blanket. She wiped sand off her legs. She was suddenly so nervous that she was trembling.
“You cold?” he asked, and she felt him wrap an arm around her shoulders.
“A little.”
She leaned closer to him, and he leaned closer to her, and in front of them the ocean was silver, churning softly under the moon, almost complicit in what she knew was about to happen. He tilted his face toward her, slowly, and she tilted hers toward him.
Let this happen, she thought. Just let something happen for once.
Slowly, she reached for his hand and twined her fingers with his. As their eyes closed, and their lips touched, a thousand objections passed through her head. But then they vanished into thin air, just like burned-out fireworks.
