A man stands ten feet away. He’s wearing linen pants and a white button-down with the sleeves rolled. A leather duffel is in his hand. The finale explodes above us, and his face lights up with gold and white. His gaze moves from Wendy to me.
I recognize him before either of them says anything. The photo on her phone has been burned into my mind since I saw it. His hand was on her ass, and both of them were laughing on a beach. He’s taller than I expected, the same height as me, and he’s built like he takes care of himself. Wendy clearly has a type, and I’m looking at the previous model.
He smiles, but it doesn’t meet his eyes. I can read that reaction clearly—because I’ve worn it before. I’m hisreplacement. In another life, I’d probably like the guy. We’d buy each other a drink and talk shit about the same things.
Wendy steps away from me.
“What are you doing here?” she asks him like she’s seen a ghost.
He moves forward, placing his hand on her shoulder. “I came to apologize, Wen. I’m so fucking sorry.”
Wendy glances around. “Please don’t do this here.”
“I’ve texted you and?—”
“Adam,” she says, stepping away from him.
The last group of fireworks fades, and the crowd cheers.
“Is this one of your friends? Hey, man. I’m Adam Harris.”
He holds his hand out and shakes mine. It’s a strong handshake, respectable.
“Carter Banks.”
“The fireworks show was one of the best I’ve seen,” he says, glancing at the fading smoke. “Wen, your grandmother told me to come find you. She’s up at the house. Needs help with my reservation.”
Wendy stares at him like he’s lost his mind. “You’re staying?”
“We need to talk,” he says, glancing at me. “Soon.”
“I’ll be up there in a minute.” She turns away from him.
Adam returns toward the B&B, and I move to Wendy. She’s walking at an angry pace, and I grab her elbow.
“Hey, talk to me,” I tell her. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” she says, breathing out.
Wendy and I stand in the dark while the crowd thins around us. I wish there weren’t space between us.
“Are you okay?” I say.
“No. My ex …” Her voice comes out flat.
I don’t touch her because the way she pulled away from me is still fresh, and I need to figure out what happens next.
“Does he still have a chance?” I ask.
Wendy stares at the water. “I don’t know.”
AnoI could work with.
I don’t knowmeans she’s not over him. That five years doesn’t disappear because I showed up for the summer and we had good times.
“He’s not supposed to be here,” she says, and her voice cracks on the last word. “This complicates everything.”
“For us?”
