Page 67 of Summer People
“Ready.” Her voice chases away the pain and lights my body up with anticipation, with this deep desire to keep her close, to touch her.
She appears with a bag in one hand and another slung over her shoulder, along with her phone and her computer. Though she puts up a fight, eventually, she lets me carry her bags.
“Libby!” Sutton launches herself at the woman who is quickly becoming her favorite person. “Fisher said Putt-Putt broke and crashed, and that you hit your head—” She zeroes in on the bags in my hands, confusion creasing her forehead.
“She found a nest of spiders at her house this morning, so she’s staying here until we get them all out.”
Sutton’s blue eyes narrow like she’s working through something. When I’m certain she’s going to tell me my nose is growing, she only shrugs. “Makes sense.” She takes the smaller bag from me and turns to Libby, head tipped back. “Can you stay in my bed this time?”
“No,” I bark. Unless Libby says otherwise, the woman is sleeping next to me.
Libby raises a brow, her lips kicking up on one side.
“It’s too small,” I add quickly.
Sutton crosses her arm and gives me a look I can only imagine I’ll see a lot more of when she’s a teenager, and shit, is it terrifying. “It’s the same size as yours.”
“But you have more pillows. Plus”—I tip my chin to my dog who has now settled in the corner on the big pillow he uses for naps—“Bing sleeps with you.”
Sutton scoffs. “Only when you tell him to.”
“And I plan to tell him to tonight.”
“Fine.” Sutton draws the word out, as if I exhaust her.
Libby pulls her lips in on themselves like she’s fighting a smile, and as Sutton disappears, she leans close to me. “Subtle, Sheriff.”
“Don’t give me shit.” I stomp up the stairs, fighting a smile as the sweet sound of her laugh follows me.
The pink designer luggage might not exactly match the simple navy plaid comforter and curtains, but the tension eases out of my neck and my shoulders relax a fraction at the sight of her stuff in my room. It feels like Libby is finally where she’s supposed to be.
Maybe it doesn’t make sense—the Hollywood star belonging in a small white house on an island in the middle of nowhere Maine—but I no longer care about what does and doesn’t make sense. Because I’m almost smiling as I stomp back down the stairs.
“Oh, guess what?” Sutton says.
The girls are settled at the bar that separates the kitchen from the living area, breaking into the scones Sutton and I brought home from the inn.
Libby pauses with a pastry halfway to her mouth. “Mrs. K agreed to make the stew you wanted for dinner?”
I groan. There is no way they’ll be okay skipping Sunday dinner at the Knowleses’ tonight. Dammit. I sigh at the loss of the quiet evening at home I was envisioning. One filled withthe girls’ laughter and stolen kisses when Sutton isn’t paying attention.
“No, she’s making roast.” Frowning, Sutton waves a hand. “But that’s okay, because as ofthismorning”—she leans forward and stage whispers—“the water is officially fifty-eight degrees.”
“Oh no.” I jump into the conversation.
“Comeon.” Her face falls, her expression morphing into the pout she’s been using against me since she was five. “You said once I was eight, I couldtry.”
Jaw locked, I take a deep breath in through my nose. I hate the Monhegan Goodbye. This fucking island. “I said you could do it one time, and only when Wilder is doing it. Not by yourself, and he’s taking his boat to the mainland today.” Because I strong-armed him into going to get the parts to fix Putt-Putt.
Jesus, she’s even got me using the ridiculous moniker now.
“Not fair,” Sutton whines.
“What are you talking about?” Libby’s head swivels back and forth between us.
“It’s a fun tradition.” She side-eyes me, then cups her mouth and whispers. “Fisher thinks it’s dumb.” She pops up straighter in her seat, one brow arched, like she’s daring me to deny it. “It’s so cool, though. It’s called the Monhegan Goodbye. When the last ferry of the day pulls away from the island, the islanders jump off the dock into the water and wave to the boat.”
“Oh.” Libby lights up.
