“Smells like redemption!” I teased.
Charlie groaned. “Granddadnevershould’ve made that bet…”
We clung to each other once Nick powered up the speedboat, but instead of gunning it, he took things slow and steady across the pond. I felt Maisie’s muscles relax.
“Did you agree to go out with Oliver?” I whispered in her ear.
“No,” she whispered back. “But I told him I was flattered.”
I let out a low whistle.Way to shoot your shot, kid.
“Are you going out with Connor?” Maisie asked.
“Excuse me?” I bristled.
“Teddy says he’s in love with you.”
Yikes.
“I wouldn’t sayin love,” I mumbled.
“But you do think he likes you, right?”
I kept my lips zipped.
My sister elbowed me.
“Connor is just a friend, Maze,” I said, heat flaming on theback of my neck—worried that Luke and Charlie could hear us. “He’s not my type.”
“Right…” Maisie rolled her eyes. “You like dorks.”
With Erica policing the twins’ language,dork, in Maisie-speak, translated todouche.
She wasn’t right, but she also wasn’t wrong. “Oh, he’s a douche,” was almost always my official reason for breaking off things with a guy, even if it wasn’t totally true. I couldn’t explain why, but I knew it needed to end when knots tangled themselves in the pit of my stomach.
“Hey,” Charlie said, oblivious to our code. “No one is more lovable than a dork!”
“Were you a dork?” Maisie asked, not at all embarrassed.
Her cousin gave her a look. “Of course not.”
“That would be my department,” Luke said smoothly. “Though I prefer the termnerd.”
Maisie giggled. “What’s the dif—”
“Land ho!” Captain Nick called, and after disembarking our water taxi, our crew climbed a creaky driftwood staircase that deposited us at the party’s edge.
“Wow,” Maisie breathed. “This is awesome.”
“You can say that again…” My heart skipping, I didn’t know where to look first; everything was a sight to behold. There was a sprawling cedar-shingled ranch house overlooking Oyster Pond and the ocean and horizon beyond it. An upbeat band jammed on the house’s low deck, and I marveled at the huge American flagspread across the roof. Maisie tugged me across the lawn, dotted with partygoers. Some were playing cornhole, others badminton, and there were picnic tables and circles of Adirondack chairs. I spotted Peggy, who’d driven over earlier, by the serpentine buffet. She had baked the Barefoot Contessa’s classic American-flag cake for the party. Nearby, Erica had set up her tripod.Only if you have everyone sign a release form, I imagined Beth sniping.
“Mom!” Maisie waved.
After Bryce appeared out of nowhere and just as quickly ran off with Maisie, I got a drink at the bar—there was a specialty mocktail with glitter in it—and took a huge lap, wrestling over what to do. My dad stood with a group of other dad-looking men in the gravel driveway, admiring an orange car with white racing stripes on its hood. “It’s a 1973 International Scout Harvester,” a handsome Black guy said, an adorable toddler sitting on his shoulders. “I found it…”
I eventually located the twins with Teddy, Finn, and a bunch of other kids. Someone had built a massive obstacle course. “Go, Claire!” Maisie cheered as a girl with a long auburn ponytail army-crawled under some netting.
Claire?I wondered.Claire Dupré?
