Page 125 of Summer After Summer

He glances at me. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about that tonight?”

I want to bat that suggestion away, but there’s something in his tone that tells me not to push. “All right.”

He walks on ahead, slipping up over the dunes and then back down again, waiting to help me to the beach. There’s a good grassy spot on the edge of it, where we can use the dune for a seat back. Fred plops down, crossing his legs, and I sit next to him. The breeze is high, whipping my ponytail around, racing black clouds against the moon. The air is salty, almost fishy, but it’s not unpleasant.

He pours me a glass of wine and hands it to me. “Thank you.”

“Welcome.”

I lean back and tuck my knees up. The moon’s reflecting off the choppy water, but the breeze is warm, and I’m not cold. “It’s beautiful here.”

“It is.”

I pull the loose top of my pajamas over my knees. “Who do you think they are?”

“Who?”

“Brenda and Jack. Or whoever’s getting married. The names on our pajamas.”

“No idea.”

“First wedding, I’d imagine.”

Fred puts the empty wine bottle down into the sand. “Why do you say that?”

“No one goes to this much trouble for a second wedding.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Never came close?”

“Once or twice.”

Something in his tone makes me take a deep drink of my wine. I know about the once. Was there truly a twice?

“What about you?” Fred asks.

“Just the once so far.”

“You going to work it out?”

“I don’t know.” I sigh. “This is a bit weird, talking about this with you.”

“I get it.”

“Because we’re not friends.”

“No?”

“I … I don’t think so.”

“That’s too bad.”

I’m not sure what he’s saying, but it is. It is too bad.

“Do you think they’re going to make it?”

His eyes are dark. I can’t read them. “Who?”

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