After wrapping ourselves in our towels and unsuccessfully sneaking a peek at our guardian artist’s sketchbook, we trekked back to Connor’s Jeep and silently sat in the car for a few minutes. “Your body is so red,” I finally remarked. “Are you getting a rash?”
“Maybe…” Connor mused. “Or it’s just the aftermath of my belly flop.”
I winced. “You belly flopped?”
“I was aiming for feetfirst,” he said, chuckling. “Clean and simple, but I got distracted.”
“By what?” I asked.
“Your smile.”
“Oh my god.” I shifted in my seat. “Why do youdo that?”
“Do what?”
“Just…” I glanced away, willing my heart rate to slow. “Just say stuff like that.”
“I’m afraid I’m not following.”
I looked back to see Connor with his head cocked. “You are so easy with your compliments,” I clarified. “I mean, first you call me beautiful, and now—”
“That’s because Ilikeyou, Olivia.” The corners of his blue eyes crinkled. “I’ve always liked you.”
I’ve always liked you.
When I tried to take a breath, I discovered my lungs had turned to stone. If someone asked me when I’d met Connor, I would’ve said yesterday, but if someone asked Connor when he’d met me, I had a suspicion he’d dial back almost a decade.
And I suddenly wondered ifConnor has a really big heartwent deeper than his penchant for flirting; I worried it better translated toConnor catches feelings fast.
I didn’t catch feelingsperiod.
And I didn’t want to start now.
Be gentle with Connoralso echoed through my mind.
“I’m sorry,” Connor said when I was quiet. “Do compliments make you cringe?”
“No…” I mechanically shook my head. “They’re just really up-front.” No guy I’d hung out with had handed compliments to me like flowers.You look niceoryou smell so goodwas as blush-inducing as it got.
Connor smirked. “Up-front has yet to fail me.”
His Jeep suddenly felt way too small.
“How many times have you seenThe Holiday?” I almost asked, especially because “meet-cute” had struck a chord earlier. “The Holidayshould be required viewing for all men,” Erica had once written in an Ask Me Anything Instagram story. “My husband and I watch it every Christmas, and he agrees that no line is more enlightening than Kate Winslet’s ‘I’m looking for corny!’”
An unfamiliar ringtone popped whatever bubble we were in; I unlatched the glove compartment and pulled out Connor’s phone.Liam, its screen read.
“Hey,” he said to his brother. I watched him cradle the phone with his chin while he dug his AirPods out of the Jeep’s cupholder. “What’s up?”
“Okay, guess—” I heard Liam say breathlessly. “Guess what—” It sounded like he was laughing. “Guess whatMiranda did this morning!”
“You call your mom by her first name?” I asked later, as we inched back into Edgartown. Connor had spent the drive on the phone, animated as ever. I didn’t mind, contemplating whether or not I should put some space between us.
“Oh, yeah.” He nodded. “She’s ‘Mom’ to her face, but Liam and I pretty much always refer to her as ‘Miranda’ with each other.” One side of his mouth tipped up in a smile. “She thinks it’s hilarious.”
“Huh,” I said. “I can’t imagine Erica ever being cool with the twins doing that.”
And I couldn’t say one way or the other how my own mother would’ve felt. I’d lost her so fast, and she’d been gone so long. Sometimes I felt like I could barely remember her, but I would never forget hugging her goodbye when I was seven; she’d dropped me off at Annie and Pops’s town house to spend the night with them while she celebrated her best friend’s birthday in New York. She never came to pick me up. An aneurysm, I’d learned.
