“He is,” Olivia agreed, though she was certain that if Lulu had discovered that Olivia was dating Andrew, she’d be singing his praises instead.She just wants me to be happy and loved, Olivia thought.
As if confirming her suspicions, Lulu continued, “I know I’ve been a pain in the ass about encouraging you to date. I never thought of myself as one of those mothers. And I know you don’tneedanyone—you have a rich, wonderful life, and I’m so proud of you. But there’s a special kind of emotional support that comes from having a partner, and I think even you might appreciate that when things… get hard.”
“Maybe,” Olivia said, eager to change the subject.
“Why don’t you go join him?” Lulu nodded at the circle of cushions around the bonfire, where Zack had been roped into a conversation with Dylan, a high school friend of Marigold’s who was currently taking a “gap year” after dropping out of his MFA program. “Looks like he might need rescuing.”
“I think I need a drink first,” Olivia said, eyeing them. She took two beers from the bar and made her way to the bonfire, where she gingerly lowered herself onto the empty cushion next to Zack, wincing when her injured foot hit the sand.
“You okay?” Zack asked. “Is it your foot?”
“Yeah, but I’m fine. I’ll take some Advil later.”
“Want me to go find some now?”
“Thanks,” she whispered. “But if you leave me alone with these people, I’ll kill you.”
Zack gave her a tight smile, then said loudly, “Dylan was just telling me about his novel.”
“I needed to get away from academia to reallywrite, you know?” Dylan tossed his head back to swig his beer, his wavy, light brown hair brushing against his shoulders. “It was such a suffocating environment—all those self-righteous twenty-three-year-olds. Believe me, the kids are not all right.”
“I don’t know about that.” Zack accepted a beer from Oliviawith a grateful nod. “I teach college kids, and I’m consistently impressed with them.”
“Dylan, hi!” Bri took a few unsteady steps toward them, then collapsed on the sand with a giggle. Liesl followed with her usual saunter before lowering herself to the ground. With languorous, catlike movements, she folded her legs into a lotus position, causing her loose white shorts to slide up her thighs.
“How was Bali?” Bri asked, leaning toward Dylan. “Your photos were incredible.”
“It was pretty chill,” he said. “I wanna go back, but I promised my buddy I’d meet him in Berlin.”
“IadoreBerlin,” Liesl said in the vaguely European accent she affected from time to time. She turned to Zack. “It seems like a city you’d really enjoy. It’s the only place I’ve been that feels full ofreallyfree thinkers, you know?”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Zack said pleasantly.
A shadow of irritation flickered across Liesl’s face. This clearly wasn’t the reaction she’d hoped for. She decided to try a different tact. “Everyone also feels so liberated sexually as well. Liv, what’s your favorite city for a one-night stand?” Liesl asked, well aware that her friend’s older sister wasn’t one for overseas flings.
“Sandpiper Island,” Zack answered for her, wrapping an arm around Olivia. “Though I’d be pretty bummed if this turned out to be a one-night stand.”
Liesl stared at him, though this time, it wasn’t part of her act. But it took just a second for her to regain her composure. “You two are together? Oh my god, that’s so cute.” She flashed them a sweet smile, tossed her long, dark hair over shoulder, and turned to face Dylan.
“You’re putting on quite a show,” Olivia whispered. “I didn’t realize you were such a good actor.”
“Anything worth doing is worth doing well. Besides, this is a perfect place to pretend to be in love, isn’t it? At a beach bonfire on a starry summer night?”
“Sure, I guess.”
“Youguess?”
“It’s kind of cold. The sand is itchy. And I’ve never understood the allure of a bonfire. It falls into the same category as fireworks, this spectacle we’ve been socialized to think is special and beautiful. But is it? Does it really move something inside us? Or are we just conditioned to believe it does?”
“Holy shit,” Zack said with a grin.
“Yes, I’m just as cynical as you imagined.”
“No, that’s not it.” He reached down and rolled up his pant leg to reveal a tattoo above his ankle: a short sentence in the shape of a cresting wave.
“What does it say?” Olivia asked, squinting for a better look.
“?‘It’s not pretty.’ From that Bukowski poemI Met A Genius. You know, the one with the kid on the train who points to the ocean and says, ‘It’s not pretty’?”
