"Ladies," John said, stopping in front of them. "I thought I recognized you." He was looking at Lori. "I didn't expect to see you here."
"Likewise." Lori's voice was steadier than she felt. "We were just—celebrating. Old times. College nostalgia."
"The band's good for that." He glanced back toward where his companion was waiting, checking her phone. "That's my sister. She's visiting from Portland for the week. I promised her a night out that didn't involve me talking about books."
"Your sister," Lori repeated.
"Jill. She's a pediatric surgeon. Considerably more impressive than I am at dinner parties." He smiled. "I should get back. But I'm glad I ran into you. The fisherman talk is in a few days, if you're still interested."
"I am. I'll be there."
"Good." He nodded to the rest of the group and headed back to his sister.
Nobody said anything.
"His sister," Carrie said.
Lori laughed. "His sister."
"You're an idiot," Jen said affectionately.
"Shut up."
But she was smiling now, really smiling, and when the band came back for their final set, she was the first one on the dance floor.
They closed out the bar.
The walk back was long and loud, all of them taking up the entire sidewalk, singing fragments of songs they'd been dancing to, stopping every few blocks to catch their breath or point out something in a shop window. The night had cooled just enough to feel comfortable, and Sea Isle had gone quiet the way beach towns do when the families go to bed and only the stragglers remain.
By the time they reached 59th Street, Meredith's feet ached and her voice was hoarse and she didn't care about either.
"That was fun," she said, as the house came into view. "That was really fun."
"We should do it again," Carrie said. "Before the summer ends. Make it a thing."
"Make it a thing," Olivia echoed. "I like that."
The house was still when they came through the door. Tom was asleep on the couch with the TV still on, the teens presumably in their rooms, the only sound the distant crash of waves through the open windows. They separated with whispered goodnights, Lori and Carrie heading upstairs, Jen into the kitchen for water, Meredith gently waking Tom to guide him up to bed.
Olivia stood in the hallway, keys still in her hand, not quite ready to go upstairs.
The night had been good. Better than good. For three hours she hadn't thought about Dan, hadn't checked her phone, hadn't wondered what Michael was doing or whether she should call him back. She'd just been herself. She'd forgotten that was allowed.
She wanted to hold onto that feeling. Wanted to carry it upstairs and fall asleep before it faded.
But as she turned toward the stairs, she noticed the light.
Lily's door, cracked open, the soft glow of a reading lamp visible through the gap.
It was nearly one in the morning. Lily was a night owl, but this was late even for her.
Olivia hesitated. The beer was still in her system, making everything feel removed and dreamlike. She pushed the door open instead of walking past.
Lily was sitting up in bed, book open in her lap, but she wasn't reading. She was staring at the wall, her dark hair loose around her shoulders, her expression distant. In the soft lamplight, she looked younger than fifteen, the way she was worrying the corner of a page, her knees pulled up to her chest.
"Hey," Olivia said. "You're up late."
Lily looked up, eyes startled. "Couldn't sleep."
