Page 116 of Summer People
Maggie blinks at me, then squints at the sign.
“No one was hurt,” I tell her, holding out my arms as proof. “And like you said, this is community theater. Participatory theater. It’ll be a little more participatory now because the people in the audience will need to use their imaginations, but we can do this,” I say, my energy and mood lifting.
Maggie bites her lip, her dark eyes watery. “I don’t know.”
Wilder steps up beside me and drapes an arm over my shoulders. “It could work. I’ll get some chairs from the inn?—”
“I can provide flashlights and popcorn,” Doris offers.
Maggie frowns. “Flashlights?”
“For the car.” I give Doris an appreciative smile. “Fisher and Wilder could hold them on stage and pretend to be our Pink Lady.”
Wilder waggles his brows. “I make one hell of a loud engine, Maggie.” He lets out a loud vrooming noise.
“That line belongs on one of your shirts.” She giggles, wiping at her tears. “You’d really all do that?”
“We’re islanders,” I tell her. I feel it in my bones. I may be new to Monhegan, but this is where I belong. “Of course we would.”
Maggie surveys the crowd. The people gathered talk over one another with suggestions and offers to help.
Finally, she pulls her shoulders back and nods. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
The next twenty-four hours are a whirlwind. Fisher doesn’t let me out of his sight, and he holds me extra tight when we fall intobed late that night. But we’re up early to help get the park ready for the play.
“I’ve got eggs and bacon going,” he says when I come down, dressed for the day.
I waggle my brows. “Making breakfast? I like it.”
At the table, Sutton talks around a mouthful of toast. “Well, he couldn’t get donuts.”
Fisher spins and points at her with the spatula. “Too soon.”
Chuckling, I step up behind her and drop a kiss on her head. “Morning, pretty girl.” From there, I make my way to Fisher and sink into his hold, relishing the comfort he gives me. I kiss his chest first, then tip my head back and purse my lips, silently asking for a smooch. “Leave her be. She’s right. You’ll just have to come visit me in Boston for donuts now.”
Fisher’s eye twitches. He hates that I’m talking so openly about leaving.
I get it, but it’s happening whether any of us are ready or not. “Kiss. Me.” I say the words slowly and then dramatically pucker my lips.
With a sigh, as if he’s being put out, he brings his mouth to mine. “Go sit.” He swats my ass with the spatula. “I’ll bring your coffee and breakfast over.”
Squealing, I scurry to the table. “He’s really trying to get me to come back,” I say as I slide into the seat next to Sutton’s.
She nods, brows lifted. “Maybe you should ask for that dock again. I’m pretty sure he’d cave.”
Fisher grunts as he sets a cup of coffee in front of me. It’s iced and frothy and the perfect beige color that signals he used just the right amount of creamer. “Not you too.” He squints, looking betrayed.
Sutton shrugs innocently. “Just trying to see what else she can get out of you.”
Hovering in close, he kisses the bare skin between my neck and my shoulder and whispers, “Everything. You can get everything out of me.”
A delicious warmth floods me, from my chest to my fingers and toes and all the way up my neck and into my cheeks. I pick up my iced coffee and take a sip to cool myself down.
When Fisher returns to the table with our plates, he slides his hand onto my lap. And he leaves it there all the way through breakfast.
God, I’m gone for this man. He doesn’t have to worry about whether I’ll come back. When I’m gone, I’ll be counting down the seconds until I can hop on a ferry—or helicopter or trash boat—and get back to him.
We spend the rest of the morning and early afternoon getting the park ready for the show and rehearsing. Then Mrs. K allows us to use the private dining room at the inn for hair and makeup.
