Page 27 of Seven Summer Weekends

The drinks showed up, and Katie released her embrace to make room for them.

“I’ve read every one of your books and, well, let’s just say, I may be your biggest fan,” she added.

“I don’t know about that. There is a woman in Wichita who named her baby after me, and it’s a girl. Benjamina Morse McClusky.” Katie and Jessie both winced while Addison raised a glass.

“To Benjamina!”

Only Ben laughed and downed his drink. Addison kept up. Why, she didn’t know.

Things turned lighter after that. Katie and Jessie asked Ben a million questions, like they were interviewing him at a book talk at the Strand. It was surprisingly illuminating, though nothing Addison couldn’t google; it took every ounce of self-control she could muster not to pull her phone from her pocket right then and there to fact-check, although the answer to her most burning question—Why didn’t you tell me who you were?—would not be found on the internet. Still, she learned plenty from the girls’ inquisition. Benign things like his writing routine, sportswriting versus novel writing (apparently, he had his own column inSports Illustrated), and a long list of questions regarding his public statement that he would never write another novel. They were fangirling all over him, and he was eating it up. Is this how he got women? Playing off their sympathy for his losing his wifeand then hoping he could live up to the sex scenes in his novels? She remembered their earlier conversation on the beach.

Especially page one thirty-seven!Ugh.

She was back to disliking him again. His witty Hamptons–Fire Island comparison had momentarily tipped the scales in his favor. She loved a guy who could make her laugh—though she couldn’t remember the last time she had encountered one.

“Did you ever see Josie again?” Jessie asked, causing Katie to scoot in real close so as not to miss a word. She turned her head back to Addison, for a quick recap.

“Josie is a woman he met the summer after his wife died who made him feel like he may be able to love again.”

Addison also focused on Ben for answers, and he addressed her, as opposed to the Spice Girls. It was odd, as if he recognized that Addison would be interested in his explanation for more than folly. Until she realized he was right—she was interested in his explanation for more than folly.

“Her name wasn’t really Josie. I changed it, and a bunch of her details, for obvious reasons.”

“That was smart,” Katie said, taking back his attention. “Remember what happened with ‘Hey There Delilah’!”

Addison and Ben locked eyes, and they met on the same wavelength—laughter—a bit more at them than with them. There was no denying that Addison was enjoying their company. Ben seemed to be as well, though she wondered if it was just because his ego was being stroked. When their laughter subsided, he continued.

“We went on a date, but it was way too awkward with all the happily ever after pressure of the book.”

“Makes sense,” Katie commiserated, taking the moment to touch his hand again in sympathy. Though clearly amused, Ben seemed to relish the attention. Addison couldn’t help but worry about her houseguest, who was intent on getting her books signed. Her gut told her Ben wouldn’t take advantage of her, but she didn’t really know him. She thought back to what Shep had said about Ben, that he hadn’t been himself for a while.

Will the real Ben Morse please stand up?

She looked him over while the girls continued fawning. There was no denying her attraction to him. He was handsome in an imperfect sort of way. Definitely strong and fit. And he was tall. Being five nine herself, Addison loved a tall man. His answer about “Josie” didn’t address whether he felt able to love again. That would be nice to know. She wondered if he even knew himself.

At the end of the night, Ben Morse offered Katie, whose “feet were killing her,” a ride home on the back of his bike, while Jessie and Addison walked. It left Addison concerned and—though she hated to admit it—a tad jealous.

“I hope she’ll be OK,” Addison murmured.

“She’s a big girl—no need to worry about her,” Jessie assured.

Truth was, she was worried. She didn’t want this guy to disappoint her again—well, not this guy, but the “You Again” guy whose eyes she met with again tonight. She didn’t want more proof that that guy was full of shit.

Chapter Fifteen

Katie walked into the kitchen the next morning, sniffing the burnt air. Addison was trying her best to follow Gicky’s famous scone recipe that was taped to the fridge. At least three reviews on Airbnb had praised them. She was on her second batch of the day. The first lived in the garbage pail, their outsides burned to a crisp, their insides with the distinct texture of sandpaper.

Addison thought to greet her withHow was your night?but decided against it. She really didn’t want to know. She had grabbed Ben Morse’s last book,On Fire Island, from Gicky’s shelf, a hardcover with a picture of him and Sally on the beach as his author photo. She had been determined to read a few chapters, but fell asleep soon after, and did not know if or when Katie had returned. Alcohol and reading don’t really mix.

She was shaping the dough into a disc before cutting it into wedges, as the recipe stated, when Katie walked in. She nodded with her head toward the kitchen table for Katie to retrieve herbook. It turned out that there were signed copies of everything Ben Morse had ever written on her aunt’s bookshelves.

“Do you want your book back? I know you were hoping for an autograph.”

“I got one!” Katie happily proclaimed, inching up her T-shirt to reveal Ben Morse’s signature scrolled in Sharpie over her left hip.

“I’m getting it tattooed back in the city.”

The taste of vomit rose in Addison’s throat. She swallowed.

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