‘Good. No self-respecting New Yorker should be without lobster fairy lights.’
‘Right? I’m surprised they’ve let me get away with living there for as long as I have.’
We stood in companionable silence for a while, watching people dance on the grass. The band was playing a slow country song.
I stepped in front of her and held out my hand. ‘Dance?’
She put her hand in mine, smiling. ‘I thought you’d never ask.’
I wove an arm around her waist, my hand on her back, pulling her in against me, and she rested her head against my chest. Her hair smelled like summertime and cherries.
‘I can hear your heart beating,’ she said softly, tilting her face to look up at me.
‘Does it sound like it’s beating fast? Because it feels like it’s beating fast.’
‘It sounds normal.’
‘Are you sure? Because I don’t normally feel it when it’s doing its normal everyday thing. I know it’s working because, well, I’m standing, talking and breathing, but I don’tfeelit working. I only feel it when you’re around.’
She smiled.
‘I thought you were going to tell me off for being too cheesy then,’ I said.
‘Nah,’ she replied. ‘I figure you can get away with saying something like that when the whole damn town looks like something out of a Hallmark movie.’
‘It does, doesn’t it,’ I mused. ‘The unbelievably green grass. The trees, with their rustling leaves. The water just there, shiny and sparkly and pretty, with all the little sailboats moored, decorated with bunting and hand-painted lobster buoys. Celia might be an annoying pain in your ass, but I’ve got to hand it to her, she sure can organize a great festival and unite a town. Who knew places like this really existed?’
‘I did,’ she said softly. ‘I just forgot.’
I pulled slightly away so I could see her face. ‘Don’t tell me you’re actually feeling melancholic about this place?’
‘Tell anyone and I’ll have to kill you.’
‘Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. I knew that secretly you liked it here, though. That all that hate was just an act.’
‘I never said I hated it.’
‘So,’ I forced myself to sound casual, unbothered. ‘Maybe one day you might, possibly, consider moving back?’
She tilted her head and gave me a look. ‘Subtle.’
I opened my eyes wide, a vision of innocence. ‘What?’
‘Why do you want to know?’
‘It’s called conversational enquiry.’
‘That’s all it is?’
‘What else would it be?’
She rested her head back against my chest. Her hair tickled my chin. ‘I thought you might have been asking because you wanted me to stick around.’
My body stiffened, and I considered my next words carefully, aware the wrong ones now could have the wrong effect. ‘Is that even remotely a possibility?’
‘If you’d asked me a week ago, not a chance in hell.’
‘And now?’
