Page 121 of Summer After Summer

“Fun?”

“Yeah, fun. Ever heard of it?”

“Maybe once or twice.”

“So, what do you say?” I tilt my glass toward his. “Deal?”

“Deal.”

Our deal works because we get very, very drunk. There’s another bottle of champagne and then some Portuguese drink I never catch the name of, and plate after plate of food I shouldn’t be eating, but I do not give a fuck.

I’m happy.

Happy without an undertow for once, and all it took was a million drinks and the best meal of my life to get there.

We talk and laugh, and laugh and talk. The restaurant empties out, and now the staff wants to go home, so we need to leave too.

We head out into the night and go for a stroll along the Thames. I’m amazed that I’m still awake, still coherent, enough not to freak out when Fred takes my hand and asks if he should call the car. I say yes, and then the night starts to take on an air of inevitability.

He doesn’t let go of my hand in the car, just starts tracing circles on the flesh near my wrist. My whole body responds, a pulse beating between my legs. I turn my head toward him and I don’t remember making a conscious decision to kiss him—I just do. He responds, our tongues meeting, his hands in my hair as we arch toward each other, feeling constrained by our clothes and the driver.

In a moment, we’re at his apartment, and he leads me in, bashful, past the doorman, so British and polite he acts like we’ve met before, and then the elevator, where we resume our kiss, not able to keep away from each other, and then in his apartment with large, modern windows overlooking the Thames.

We strip items of clothing off each other, one by one, slowly but deliberately, stopping to taste each other, to enjoy this, not rushing. His thumbs repeat their circles on my breasts, then in between my legs, and then I am up in his arms, my chest to his bare chest and he’s carrying me to the bedroom.

Everything is new and old at the same time. Our bodies remembering, but we’ve both learned a thing or two. I push away what this implies, that we’ve been with others since the last time this happened, and give into the sensation of us. It’s never been like this, not with him, not with anyone, and I come so hard against his hand it almost hurts.

Then he’s tasting me, telling me what he wants us to do together, and I nod as he reaches into a drawer and pulls out a condom. And then he’s inside me, and I press into him as he slides in and out in a slow rhythm that brings me to the brink again.

Slow, then hard and deep, pulling in and out until we both release together, our cries mingling, our bodies slick with sweat.

He gathers me into his arms, and I feel totally at peace. No regrets, no questions, only the sure and comfortable feeling of being with Fred, the way we were always meant to be.

“I love you,” he says into my ear as I start to drift away.

I love you too, I say, but maybe only in my dreams.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

July 2023

By the time Lucy gets released from the hospital, James has everything arranged.

There’s a car to take us back to his place, and an overnight nurse. Rooms have been prepared for each of us, and James apologizes when he tells me that I’ve been put in the honeymoon suite. Finalizing the rooms for guests is the last step to getting the winery ready, but he prioritized this room, and the groom and bride suites, for an event that’s taking place in a couple of weeks.

Fred is in the groom’s room, and Lucy is in the bride’s, and when I take off my clothes and step into the shower to wash off the smell of the hospital, I can’t help feeling that that’s the way things might turn out. Fred was very gentle with Lucy when she was discharged, and so apologetic too, helping her into the car, into the house, up to her room.

I try not to let it bother me, but I can’t lie to myself.

I’m jealous.

When I’m done with the shower, I find a pair of cotton pajamas waiting for me. “Brian & Susan” they say in embroidery across the breast, supplied, I assume, for the upcoming nuptials. They fit, and are soft and comfortable. I pull my hair back with a hair tie I find in my purse, then think about going in search of food. That fabulous lunch a million hours ago has worn off.

But first I send two messages, one to Colin to let him know Lucy is all settled in, and another to Wes, to let him know I’m staying the night.

He answers me quickly, asking to go to dinner next week. He’s secured a reservation at this Greek place he’s been wanting to try all summer. I say yes because it’s so much easier than saying no. But he was good today, funny and kind, all the best of him, and I made a promise to him—for better or for worse—that I meant when I made it. It feels old-fashioned to get too specific about it, but I feel like I owe him one more chance. I owe us. And maybe all of this—coming home, packing away the past—that can help us too. Because it lingered between us, whether I wanted to admit it or not.

I’m about to leave my room when I remember one last text—to let Matt know I’m not going to make it tomorrow morning. Cindy will be disappointed maybe, but she’ll live. Matt answers me too, despite the hour, saying he hopes Lucy is well.

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