Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Connor’s spine straighten with excitement. He’d been comfortably on the periphery all night, seemingly at ease with the fact that this wasn’t his family. “He’s a huge Rangers fan,” Charlie had told me earlier. “You should’veseenhis face when Nick got here yesterday…”
Nick chuckled. “Sorry, Dad. I don’t get the Cup until August. It’s with our captain in Toronto now.” He looked at his grandparents; Peggy was stealing pie from Topper’s plate. It reminded me of whenever Erica passed on dessert but then always helped herself to my dad’s hot fudge sundae. “I just wanted to thank Nana and Granddad for not only being an epic couple, but alsofor hosting us the next few weeks.” He smiled, a dimple appearing in his left cheek. “Even with some of us missing, I think everyone will agree when I say that it’s been way too long since we’ve been all together!”
The deck erupted in whoops, whistles, and cheers. I started biting my pinkie nail, but stopped when my dad caught my eye and winked.
“And as much as we love and adore one another,” Nick continued. “It might also be fun—maybe evenhealthy—to add some friendly competition—”
“Oh my god, Nick,” Beth groaned. “We arenotplaying Assassin.”
Nick arched an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with Assassin, Aunt Beth?”
“Nothing,” Charlie piped up from nearby. He was squashed in an Adirondack chair with Luke and clearly biting back a laugh. “Except for the fact that you need to accept that you’re not meant to be one.” He gestured across the moonlit Oyster Pond. “They’re never going to ask you to guest star; it’stheirgame.”
“That’s exactly whyweshould play!” Nick countered.
“What and who are they talking about?” I asked Sage as the Carmichaels collectively shook their heads. “What’s Assassin?”
“One of Nick’s biggest dreams.” Sage sighed. “Although I fear it will forever go unrealized.”
Jay whistled when his sons started bickering. “Rein it in, knuckleheads!”
“Sweetie, it’s really just not our cup of tea,” Peggy told Nick, then squeezed his arm affectionately before turning to everyone else and smiling. “But Ipromisethis trip will be full of fun family…”
Not part of your family, I couldn’t help but think.
“…game nights, ones we all know and love!”
“Like Life?” Bryce asked, so excitedly that I caught my dad and Erica exchange a bemused look. None of us could understand why my brother was so obsessed with Life.
“Try glow-in-the-dark volleyball, Bryce,” Jay said. “Or was it dodgeball?”
“Oof.” Luke shook his head. “I preferred the pie fight.”
“A pie fight?” Maisie gasped. “Actual pies in the face?”
“Coconut cream.” Peggy beamed at the same time Erica said, “Mom, would it be okay if—”
“Absolutely not,” Beth cut her off. “You can’t vlog our vacation!”
Erica’s smile slipped. Her family had capital-T Thoughts about her influencer career. Beth, for example, believed it was an invasion of privacy.
“Showing off your summer wardrobe while sipping one of Dad’s golden hour cocktails is one thing,” she continued, “but we don’t need videos of us playing charades going viral…”
“Must be one hell of a game of charades,” Charlie whispered to Luke, and they snickered as I rose from my spot on the couch.
“I’m running to the bathroom,” I told Sage, but instead raninto Connor in the kitchen. He was refilling his glass of water. “Correct me if I’m wrong,” I said, “but is there maybea littletoo much personality under this roof?”
“Oh, come on,” he said, eyes shining. I still felt like I knew them from somewhere, but maybe not. “Quirky families are the best.”
Yes, I thought, slowly and suddenly unsurprised. No one offered to spend a summer with someone else’s family if they weren’t going to embrace it.Aren’t they?
* * *
My dad might’ve trusted me, but he low-key interviewed Connor after things had broken up, and I couldn’t help but subtly eavesdrop as Sage told me about this week’s Fourth of July party. Because Connor McCallister talked nonstop. No matter the conversation topic—family, sports, music, movies—he had something to say. I didn’t catch where he was from, but he had a fourteen-year-old brother, rooted for New York teams, unabashedly loved Coldplay, and thought the Marvel universe was getting out of control. “I graduated a few weeks ago,” he said when Erica asked about school. “I’m playing lacrosse at Notre Dame next year.”
There it is, I thought. Connor looked like an athlete, but I hadn’t been able to pinpoint his sport.
“He’s a good kid,” my dad said before hugging me good night, as if I’d introduced Connor as my prom date rather than a reluctant bunkmate. “I like him a lot.”
