The next morning, Ethan dropped down across from me at the outside table where I’d taken my coffee. His eyes gleamed. “I have an idea.”
“Okay,” I said cautiously. This seemed like a lot of energy, which I distrusted. “What kind of idea?”
It was one of those perfect summer mornings, with fat, lazy bees bumbling about. The sky was blue, the grass dark green, and everything smelled the way it had when I was a little kid at summer camp. If I could bottle this day, I would.
“Why don’t we get your boss to come out on the ship?” He waved a hand at my blank expression. “You know, Gary Dubois’s tall ship?”
“Gary—who? What ship?”
Ethan’s surprise quickly morphed into embarrassment. “I thought you knew. It’s in a few weeks. There’s this guy, Gary, who’s spent the last ten years building a replica of a nineteenth-century sailing ship. He’s a tech CFO and this is his hobby, I guess. Your dad and I are going out on it for a few nights.”
Right, yes, of course they were. Why was I still surprised they did things without me?
“Anyway, you and Dr. Bradley should come. It’d be guaranteed quality time for them.”
I was too busy trying to stomp out my spike of resentment to respond. Fine, my dad and Ethan still had their own relationship, but did it have to include atrip on a millionaire’s boat?
This was why anything romantic between us was a bad idea. I couldn’t make out with someone who made me simmer with jealousy.
Well, apparently Icould. But Ishouldn’t.
“Would they let us come?” I finally asked. “Is there room?”
“I think so. It’s pretty big.”
I didn’t hate the idea: a trip, after all, would create many repeated, unplanned interactions. But…“How would I convince Cora?”
“I dunno. It’s during the Arborids, so it’s supposed to be great for seeing them. Maybe she’ll care about that, because of astronomy?”
During the Arborids?
During the meteor shower Dad had always taken me to see as a kid, the one I’d assumed we’d watch together this year, on Nantucket. But Dad didn’t plan to be here. No, he planned to be off at sea, with Ethan. “I see.”
“I’ll show you the ship.” Ethan, unaware of my ire, pulled up a photo on his phone, and I blinked in surprise. Even though Ethan had called it a nineteenth-century replica, I hadn’t expected to seesomething straight out ofPirates of the Caribbean. Sails billowed atop a deep brown hull, edged in endless rigging.
“It’s a gaff-rigged schooner,” Ethan said. “He’s been working on it for years, and it’s finally seaworthy.”
It looked ridiculous. It looked amazing. “How long are you going?”
“Three nights.”
“Huh.” I bit my lip. “Maybe I’ll talk to Dad.”
I spent all day trying to psych myself up to ask Dad about the trip. He’d made a picnic dinner, which we took to Jetties Beach: avocado sandwiches with roasted red peppers, tomatoes, and red onions; pickle spears; salt and vinegar chips. It was windy, and the seagulls were out in full force—guarding our meal was an endless battle.
“So,” I said, once we’d demolished most of the food and the seagulls forswore us in order to attack two couples sharing a bag of chips. “Ethan says you’re going on a boat trip.”
“Er, yes.”
“Were you going to tell me about it before you left?”
“Actually…” Dad cleared his throat. “I was hoping you’d want to come with us.”
I blinked. Then blinked again. “Oh.”
“Only if you’re interested,” Dad said quickly. “I know you have your own plans and things to do here—”
“Dad, ofcourseI want to come!”
