Page 24 of 28 Summers
Mallory kicks Jake under the table and suddenly the night comes alive. She’s jealous!
“It was timing,” Jake says. “You were ready to meet someone and she was there.”
“I was wearing my Hopkins Lacrosse T-shirt,” Cooper says. “She mentioned that she knew a bunch of players from the ’87 championship team. I was impressed, I guess. But that’s the kind of thing that keeps me up at night. What if Krystel hadn’t mentioned Petro and Wilkie? Or what if I’d worn a different shirt? We wouldn’t have started talking, I wouldn’t have asked for her number, and I would not be sitting here on Nantucket a broken man.”
Mallory kicks Jake again, only this time the kick is more of a nudge, her bare foot on his shin. If she gets any more intimate, he’s going to pick her up and carry her to the bedroom, Cooper be damned.
“What about you, Jake? Do you understand love?” Mallory asks.
Jake sets about buttering his corn. “No.”
“You do, though,” Cooper says. “You love Ursula. You’ve always loved Ursula.” He looks at Mallory. “They’ve been dating since the eighth grade.”
“On and off,” Jake says. “There’s been a lot of off, actually.”
“But you’re together now?” Mallory asks. The light is fading. There’s only a single votive candle on the table, but even so, Jake sees the question in her eyes, which are green tonight. He prefers them green.
“We are.”
Mallory cuts her burger in half in a way that seems aggressive. “Will you marry her?”
“I can’t believe you haven’t asked her already,” Cooper says.
Jake has reached a crossroads. He isn’t sure what to disclose under these circumstances. Should he spill his guts as though Mallory has no stake in the answer? There’s a way in which they’re both playacting for Cooper and for each other. “We went to Paris last month,” he says. “She demanded a proposal and I told her I wasn’t ready.”
“Ouch!” Cooper says.
Mallory throws her brother an exasperated look. “At leasthe’snot rushing into anything.”
“Hey,” Cooper says. “You’re supposed to treat me with kid gloves.”
Jake looks down at his burger, then up at Mallory. “What about you, Mal? Have you ever been in love?”
“Coop, may I have the ketchup, please?” Mallory says.
“Answer the man’s question first,” Cooper says.
“Just please pass the ketchup.”
“Come on, Mal. We’re having a heart-to-heart here. Have you ever been in love? And Mr. Peebles doesn’t count.”
“Who’s Mr. Peebles?” Jake asks, already hating Mr. Peebles and hoping he’s long dead.
“Her ninth-grade English teacher,” Cooper says. “Mal was in love with him. It was well documented in the diary that I stole from her room and read to my friends—”
“Thereby scarring me for life,” Mallory says.
“But that doesn’t count because Mr. Peebles was married and very devoted to his wife.”
“All the more reason to love him,” Mallory declares. “Plus, he introduced me to J. D. Salinger. That year, I dressed up as Franny Glass for Halloween, remember? I wore a white nightgown and carried a chicken sandwich and the only person who got it was Mr. Peebles.”
“You’re trying to change the subject,” Jake says.
“Yeah,” Cooper says. “Just tell the truth for the sake of honest, good-faith conversation. Have you ever been in love?”
“Yes,” Mallory says.
“Yes?” Cooper says. He sounds surprised. Jake is holding his breath.
