“Okay, caveman. There’s steak, too.”
On cue, Chris passes us with a platter of marinated steaks, and he delivers his own grunt. “We grill animal, yes?”
“Argh, yes. Animal.” Sabin lumbers like a Neanderthal, following Chris out of the kitchen.
“If you’d like some help from someone less cavemanish, I’m yours,” Eric offers. “I suppose I could go club a wild boar or something for you, but I’m also very good at setting tables.”
“Ah, the voice of sanity,” I say with a smile. “I would love help.”
Eric and I are silent as we lay out plates and silverware. Both of us are hyperaware that it could be a long time before we all have dinner together in this house.
Next summer, the twins and James will have graduated. It would be perfectly normal for them to go off and get jobs outside of this small tourist area in Maine. I expect it. I don’t like it maybe, but I expect it. I want everyone to explore and flourish and be wonderful. But I also want to keep this group close to Chris and me.
“Please don’t look so sad,” Eric finally says. “We’ll see you again. A lot.”
“Okay.” I can’t look at him.
This summer has been idyllic with hours on the beach, poorly played volleyball in the yard, canoeing, hiking through Acadia National Park, and digging for clams. More than that, it’s the unification of this group of formerly lost souls. It’s been a syrupy lovefest for the past three months, and I wish it could last forever.
I think about that stupid fucking saying,Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and I want to barf. I’m already beyond fond of everyone, so I’m all set.
I mentally shake my head. I’m not going to feel sad. We are all lucky to have this summer and to have each other. Every one of us is in a far better place than we were before, so I try to focus on that and not on the fact that this magical summer can’t last forever.
Besides, I remind myself,Sabin is staying, and that’s huge.
If he puts his mind to it, he can make as much noise as all of us combined, so it’ll hardly be quiet around here.
I wince as Estelle lets out a slew of profanity, and she comes running from the kitchen, screaming and laughing, as James chases after her. They both tear out onto the deck, and I hear them running down the steps.
“Hey! Don’t go far! Dinner is soon!” I call after them.
Two hours later, when our long farm table is cluttered with empty lobster, clam, and mussel shells and we’re all a bit drunk on flavor, James stands and raises his glass. “A toast!”
“A toast!” we all call back.
“To Chris and Blythe, for letting us invade their house and run amok like the unruly brats that we are!”
“Hear, hear!” echoes around us.
Chris and I both shake our heads in protest.
“We wouldn’t have it any other way.” Chris fiddles with the place mat.
“He’s right,” I say. “This is your home. Always.”
“Good. Because we don’t have anywhere else to go, so you’re stuck with us.” Estelle stretches her arms above her head. “I have to finish packing. Early flight.”
James is out of his chair like lightning. “I’ll help.”
“I’ve still got laundry to do,” Eric says. “And, well, I want to call Zach. But we’ll help clean up first.”
I wave him away. “It’s your last night. Send-off dinner and all. Go do what you need to do.”
“Thanks, Blythe,” he says. “We’re all going to miss you. But we’ll call and text all the time.”
“Promise?” I ask.
“Promise!” Eric, Estelle, and James all shout before heading upstairs.
