“The Foxes?”
“Our friends across the pond,” Nick said. “You met Meredith on the beach.”
“Oh, yeah—she was hiding that huge Super Soaker. Are the Foxes the family that plays that game? Assassin?”
“Yes.” Nick sighed, then asked for my breakfast order while Sage laughed. I noticed Nick gaze adoringly at her before cracking an egg. When was the wedding?
“We’re going fishing off Cow Bay later,” Sage said once I’d eaten half of my dilapidated but delicious caprese omelet. “Do you want to come?”
“Oh, thank you,” I said, “but—”
“The actual fishing is optional,” Nick added. “My mom’s coming with firm plans to nap on the bow.”
I laughed. “That’s tempting, but I already have plans.”
Nick and Sage looked at me, intrigued.
“I don’t know the particulars,” I said after pointing to Connor, who was currently lecturing a strawberry-averse Teddy on the long-term effects of scurvy. “But he’s advertised it as something fun.”
* * *
From what I gathered, Connor’s topless Jeep usually had a DJ, but instead of blasting whatever it was nine- and seven-year-old boys were into, Finn and Teddy asked me a bunch of questions. “Idon’t have a favorite fudge flavor,” I said, gripping the passenger seat’s safety strap while Connor drove. He was a steady driver, but Oyster Watcha Road was no less bumpy than it’d been the other day.Off-roading, indeed. “I’ve only had fudge twice. The first time it was as hard as a rock, and it totally crumbled the second time.”
“Then it wasn’t good fudge,” Teddy declared from the backseat then said to Connor, “Don’t take her to Murdick’s without us!”
Murdick’s?I felt the urge to take out my phone.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Connor shake his head. “I wouldn’t dare, Ted. It’s obvious she needs your guidance.”
“Hey!” I said, mostly to make Teddy laugh.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” Finn asked once we were cruising along the beautifully paved West Tisbury Road, toward town.
“What about Claire Dupré?” I lightly deflected.
“She says she wants to focus on sailing and surfing this summer,” Teddy answered when his brother only blushed. “I did some recon.”
“Yeah,” Finn stewed, “but I didn’twantyou to—”
“Welcome to Edgartown, Olivia!” Connor exclaimed. “Isn’t she something?”
Two blinks later, I was immersed. Despite it being early, Edgartown’s Main Street was ascene. There were cars tightly parked on the road and plenty of people wandering up and down brick sidewalks sipping iced coffees and walking dogs. Teenagers moved in packs across the green-painted crosswalks while college kids jaywalked without a care in the world, too busy laughing ateach other’s jokes. Traffic was at a standstill, a sea of red brake lights. I suspected Connor knew a shortcut to the yacht club but was battling Main Street for my benefit.
I did a double take at the Old Whaling Church’s soaring white pillars.Take your picture for Annie!my mind screamed. Farther down the street, a blue mermaid swam on the sign for a boutique called Nell. Scoops Ice Cream was on the corner. “We don’t go there,” Finn informed me after I asked if he was a waffle cone guy. “We only go to Mad Martha’s.”
I nodded. “Noted.”
The Edgartown Yacht Club was a historic cedar-shingled clubhouse on the harbor, a red-white-and-blue triangular flag waving in the salty breeze and all types of boats moored in the water. Everything from tiny dinghies to sweet sailboats to a gigantic wood-paneled yacht. I couldn’t unlock my phone fast enough to take a photo, knowing Bryce would be agog. Meanwhile, the modest parking lot had more or less turned into an elementary school drop-off line. When Connor pulled up to the front of the clubhouse, Teddy and Finn quickly unbuckled their seat belts and climbed out of the Jeep. “Murdick’s afterward?” Connor asked by way of goodbye and got a pair of grins in reply.
It was adorable.
Connor shifted the car back into drive once a camp counselor had visibly checked in the brothers. I liked that their “manny” had waited. “Okay,” I started when he pulled into a recently deserted spot to recalibrate. “Nowwill you tell—”
“Connor, hey!” someone called. “How’s it going?”
I turned to see a familiar-looking blond guy walking toward us, double-fisting coffees and a pastry bag. “Aw, Wit,” Connor said. “You shouldn’t have.” He held out his hand for a to-go cup. “Vanilla latte, I hope?”
“With two percent.” Meredith’s husband smiled then started to pass the coffee to Connor before suddenly swerving. “Which is also my bride’s milk of choice!”
