My breath caught.
Meredith and Wit were never meant to be here, I realized, heartstarting to hammer. It had all been a charade so Connor could surprise me.
“How?” I asked, stunned. “When?”
“I had some help this afternoon,” he said coyly. “Sage and I kayaked over here while you and Erica were playing”—he made air quotes—“hide-and-seek with Beth.”
I couldn’t help but smile a bit. Erica seemed to be more focused on her “East Coast Summer” Reel than her parents’ scrapbook, but Annie’s memory book was starting to take shape.
“Bombing around the island and retracing Annie’s steps has been a lot of fun,” Connor added when I didn’t say anything. “But you deserve your own unforgettable summer snapshot, Olivia.” His voice softened, turned tender. “And I wanted to make it happen for you.”
Pinpricks at the corners of my eyes, I felt a sudden and hard lump in my throat. Knots of thoughts tied themselves together in my head, but I swallowed and spoke over them: “You really do know how to make a girl swoon, Connor McCallister.”
“Practice makes perfect,” he quipped, then he grinned, took my hand, and squeezed it. “What can I get you to drink?”
* * *
Our menu was simple and so very summer. Connor skillfully turned two sweet potatoes into a cookie sheet of cinnamon-sugar sweet potato fries while I offered to make the salad, adding in agenerous amount of sweet corn, tomatoes, and mozzarella pearls.
We sipped glasses of strawberry lemonade while Connor grilled our marinated chicken. “Do you normally cook?” I asked after kissing the chef. “Or is tonight…?”
“Tonightis a special occasion,” he said, tips of his ears pinkening. “Miranda might’ve texted me detailed instructions for the sweet potato fries.”
Smiling, I kissed him again.
By the time we sat down at the picnic table, it was almost seven. We talked about everything from Teddy wandering off and getting lost on the ferry last month to Quincy and Gwen’s internships to our nearly identical middle schools. I nearly choked on my giggles when Connor brought up the ballroom dance routine he and Mads had to perform in seventh grade gym. “Oh, we did that too!” I exclaimed. “I had to dance with my friend Jenna, because no boy wanted to beStilts’partner.”
Connor raised an eyebrow. “Stilts?”
My cheeks warmed. “I was really tall, remember?”
He shook his head. “Middle school boys never play the long game.”
“Yourself included?”
“Oh, myself absolutely included.”
I smiled.
For dessert, we devoured Meredith’s promised tres leches cake (left behind in the fridge with a sweet note). “This place is in a league of its own,” Connor remarked after polishing offhis third slice. He nodded at the horizon. “The Carmichaels’ house is spectacular, but every time I’ve been over here this summer…” He trailed off. “I mean, have you everseenanything like this?”
I looked out at the Farm’s great beyond, to soak it in all over again. A wide-open meadow rolled out before us, speckled with yellow flowers. Scattered scrub trees swayed in the evening breeze, and beyond a small placid pond were the beach’s sandy dunes and the ocean. I squinted to see a boat on the deepening blue-purple horizon. It looked like we were in the middle of nowhere, but my swishing stomach suddenly told me we were in a specialsomewhere.
And I was starting to think it wasn’t only special to the Fox family.
Being here made me wish I’d brought Annie’s Polaroid. The wind-whipped trees and sandy roads looked eerily familiar.
Is this it?I wondered, pulse speeding up.Has it been Paqua Farm the whole time?
How had I not noticed?
“It’s magical,” I murmured at the same time Connor’s phone started vibrating its way across the tabletop. Like the Carmichael family house, it appeared the Farm had temperamental, borderline terrible, service. Thankfully, the Annex’s Wi-Fi info had been posted on the fridge.
“Impeccable timing, as always,” Connor snorted upon seeing Mads’s FaceTime request. He reached for his phone to reject it.“Sorry not sorry, Madeline—”
“No!” I blurted. “Answer it.”
Connor gave me a quizzical look.
