“Mm-hmm.” Hayes gave Miles a thumbs-up. “Ryan whips off his ring, ready to avenge his friend, even though they aren’t getting along at the moment. That movie is a bromance, not a romance.”
Lennox burped and Anna elbowed Hayes. “Hang on, Miles. The baby needs to switch sides. Hayes, take the phone.”
Miles placed a black granite countertop sample next to his brick red cabinet. It reminded him of Tiger Woods on Sunday. Winning.
He picked up his phone. The brownstone’s ceiling filled the screen, and all he could hear were voices as Hayes made sure Anna was comfortable. Miles waited, his screen aglow from the light of the brownstone’s den. Hayes asked if she needed anything and went to get Anna a glassof water. Miles loved the way they cared for one another. This. Miles wanted this. Getting up in the morning. Figuring out the day together. And every time he dreamed it, he saw Avery. After that summer, he’d thought about calling her or showing up at Vanderbilt, but at twenty-two, he didn’t know what to say, how to sound sincere, or how to fix his mistakes. The little voice telling him he’d never deserved her didn’t make things any easier. At some point, he’d waited too long and ever since then, he’d told himself it wasn’t meant to be.
He replaced the black sample with a white marble veined with strands of gold. Hmm. His mind floated back toCrazy, Stupid, Loveand the other thing Ryan Gosling did in that movie.
“Anna, did you pick this movie to trick me into doing theDirty Dancinglift?” he asked the ceiling on his screen.
Anna picked up the phone. “No, but if you do, please film it for me.”
Hayes returned, and she took a sip of water. “Steve Carell tries to win back his wife with small gestures. Before the fight, he’s built a mini-golf course in their backyard to recreate their first date. You need to remind Avery of why she fell for you. I know you’re different today, but the guy she loved ten summers ago is still in there.”
Hayes kissed her temple.
“Anna Catherine is the smartest person I know,” he said. “Miles, give us some memories of that summer. What happened the first time you talked to her?”
“I was on a run, and on my way up Montressa’s driveway, she drove by, accidentally hit a puddle, and covered me in mud.” He laughed. “She stopped and apologized in this sweet Southern accent. A couple days later, I saw her at Napolitano’s Pizza. I was with friends, and she didn’t notice me. I sat there watching her, and it felt like no one else was in the pizza parlor. She forgot to take her cookie when she picked up her order. I figured she worked at Montressa, so I stopped by on my way home. I found her on the dock, painting. I walked up and said, ‘You forgot your cookie.’”
Miles’s mind drifted back in a daze. She’d invited him to sit with her. That had been the first night they’d seen the loon as he called for his mate. Avery had shimmered in the rosy, golden glow of the setting sun. The blood in his head had taken the superhighway to his pants. He had grabbed a life jacket and placed it in his lap as if that were perfectly normal. Thankfully, the loon distracted her.
“Bring a dozen of those cookies to the lodge,” Hayes suggested. “She won’t feel singled out, but she’ll know you brought them for her. What else? What did you wear that summer?”
“I drove the ski boat, so mostly board shorts, tees, and sweatshirts. She always stole my sweatshirts.”
“Smells imprint themselves on our memory. Did you wear cologne?” asked Anna.
Anna was right. The day before, Miles noticed Avery didn’t smell like coconut sunscreen anymore. She smelled grown-up, beautiful, and a little Southern. Something floral, but not a flower he recognized. He couldn’t remember what he’d smelled like in college.
“Possibly Axe body spray. I lived at home, and the residual scent never left my room after middle school. Sometimes I open a box of stuff from home, and I can still smell it.”
“Oh Miles, I didn’t know how far you’ve come.” Hayes laughed.
“We all have, Hayes,” Miles said. “That summer, after running in the morning and driving the ski boat all day, I probably smelled like sweat and sunscreen, with undertones of motor oil. And I had my baseball cap on backward all the time.”
“Okay, women go nuts over the backward baseball cap. That’ll take her back,” said Anna Catherine. “What was she wearing yesterday?”
“She was a mess.”
“You said she was gorgeous.”
“She was. A gorgeous mess. Like if you dropped a bottle of rainbow sprinkles. It’s a big mess, but so pretty. Like that. Ratty sweatshirt,leggings. Like a college student who had been in the library all night, cramming for exams.”
He’d resisted the temptation to pull that paintbrush from her topknot, allowing that strawberry blond hair to cascade over her shoulders.
“Ooh,” Hayes said. “She is still into sweatshirts. You should ‘accidentally’ leave one at the lodge. She will keep it because it smells like you, like Taylor Swift’s scarf inAll Too Well.”
Anna took the phone.
“She wanted to look hot when she saw you again and got nervous when she didn’t measure up to your recent plus-ones. After getting up who knows how early and driving halfway up the East Coast?” Anna clicked her tongue and shook her head. “I feel for her.”
“But I told her she looked great.”
“From her perspective, you had to say that. Next time, try not to surprise her so she can prepare and feel more comfortable. And keep the conversation light. No Dante, like some condescending professor.”
Part of him hated how much sense they made. At least getting her back seemed possible.
