“We’re late because Lili changed four times,” Goldie says.
I glance back at Lili again, noting the way she’s gnawing her lip as she scans the room, her uncertainty evident even from across the lobby. But there are too many people between us to see all of her.
“Don’t worry,” I tell Goldie. “You haven’t missed anything. Oh, and there’s a T-shirt behind the desk in the gift shop with your name on it. It’s the new design with Nereus and Nerissa.”
She grins. “Cool. Thanks, Wren.” Then she’s off, dragging a surprised but smiling Mrs. Mayhew with her.
I catch sight of Lili peering down the Siren’s Hall, but before I can follow, her mom and a man I recognize but can’t quite place step in front of me.
“Graham Callaway,” he says, after I exchange greetings with her mom. “My youngest would have been a couple of years ahead of you in school, Max Callaway?”
I nod, shaking his hand. That’s why he looked familiar: His son manages Steamboat Wharf Pizza. “Yeah, I know Max. Great pizza.”
“Decent pizza,” he corrects. “But you can’t beat the price.”
I laugh politely. It’s still an effort to concentrate on anything other than Lili.
Her mom takes pity on me, linking her arm through Mr. Callaway’s. “Let’s go get a closer look at those mermaids Goldie’s been going on about.” She smiles, resting a hand on my shoulder as they pass. “Wren, everything looks incredible.”
I nod my thanks, but my eyes never leave Lili’s face.
I don’t stop for anyone else as I close the remaining distance between us. “Lili.”
She spins and my heart stops at my first full sight of her. She’s wearing the ocean in her dress and the summer in her smile.
“You look amazing,” I say, my voice coming out a little breathless.
Her eyes find mine, and for a heartbeat, everything about her stills—her breath, her expression, even the slight movement of her shoulders. A rush of color rises in her cheeks, and I see her swallow, then almost sway, like the ground beneath her isn’t quite as solid as it was a second ago. “Are you wearing a three-piece suit? With a pocket square?” She rests a hand over her stomach like she’s trying to steady herself. “You look like Gregory Peck.”
I can barely find my words, caught up in the way she’s lookingat me. “The guy fromRoman Holiday. You said it was your favorite, so I took some inspiration.”
She keeps staring. “It’s good. Almost too good.”
“I was going for too good.” Tate and I hit up every vintage place on the island trying to find something for tonight, finally striking gold at Seconds Shop. It’s a little warm with the jacket on, but so worth this reaction. “I guess I should have added the pocket watch?”
“No,” she says too quickly. “That might have put me on the floor.”
I laugh.
“I love it,” she says, meeting my gaze. “Thank you.” Then she half turns, looking around. “And the museum looks great. You’ve changed more than one exhibit.”
Two kids run past us wearing gift shop T-shirts that sayI Met the Real Little Mermaid at McCleave’son the front.
“Not everything is changing,” I tell her, “but a few things are. You told me I didn’t have anything to lose from really trying to talk to my dad. Turns out you had a point. He’s only taken one out of every twenty things I’ve suggested so far, but that’s already more than I would have thought possible a few months ago. And look.” I move to the side, giving her a view down the corridor behind me.
Her eyes widen. “Is that your display? With all the people around it?”
I smile at her generous description of a decent handful of people asall, but after the crowd around Nerissa and Nereus’s exhibit, mine has more than almost any other.
“Can we go look at it?”
I hesitate. “Yeah, but can we talk first? I’m kind of dying here waiting to hear my fate.”
“Your fate, huh?” she says, her tone giving away nothing as she ducks her head. “I thought you were the one asking me to completely change all my future plans.”
I do everything I can to hide the wave of panic threatening to crash over me. “Not change exactly, more like move them up. And maybe consider how incredible a ramp would look by your front porch.”
She laughs, but the sound fades quickly, leaving a subtle tension behind. “Wren... I’m not turning eighteen for another month. I couldn’t stay here alone on Nantucket even if I wanted to.”
