Page 23 of XOXO, Summer
SUMMER
“He sure is cute.” Shifting her can of soda to the other side of her on the butcher block island, my sister leans in closer, and whispers, “How long has it been?”
“How long has it been for what?” I straighten the V-neck of the T-shirt I threw on with a pair of shorts, aligning the drop point with my cleavage. Not that Daniel’s noticed. There are cookies, so the competition is stiff in this kitchen.
Turning her back to Dolly, Daniel, and Roman, who are crowded around the oven, Spring grins at me with a glint in her eyes. I know that devious look. “You can’t play dumb with me, Sum. How long has it been since your last date? A year? Two?”
“Why does it matter?” There’s no rush to correct her. I get enough lecturing from Dolly and Winter. I don’t need my twenty-year-old sister’s opinion added into the mix. “I’m doing fine.”
Bending down, she messes with the loose threads of her cutoff denim skirt. So easily distracted, and I’m grateful forit. She pops up again, and says, “All I’m saying is he’s cute. If you don’t claim him, someone else will.”
“What? I’m supposed to rush and pee on him to mark him as mine so the single ladies stay away?” I laugh. “So ridiculous.”
Turning around again, she watches them like I do and then grabs her soda. “You don’t have to pee, but a hickey would do the trick.” She smacks me on the ass, and says, “Now go get ’em, tiger.”
“Spring,” I gripe quietly at her between pursed lips as I watch her flee the kitchen.
“Laters, Dolly. Nice meeting you, neighbors.”
She’s gone before Dolly can turn around. “That girl. She’s faster than an F1 driver.”
Daniel glances at me with a grin. “Are you into Formula 1, Dolly?”
“Who isn’t?” she replies, slipping her oven mitts back on.
Roman steps back to the side of the island and out of the way from the heat of the oven. “I like hockey.” Looking at me, he asks, “Do you watch hockey, Summer?”
“I don’t. I know there are a lot of fans in Mountain Laurel Cove. There’s always a game showing on TV at Bixby’s down on the water.” Resting on my forearms, I say, “Maybe we can watch a game together while you’re here this summer.”
He laughs and looks at his dad. When he turns back, he says, “It’s the offseason.”
“Oh.” I stand upright. “Guess that makes sense, being a cold-weather sport. Who’s your favorite team?”
Giggles get the best of him. When I hear Daniel chuckle as well, I’m not sure what’s so funny, but I laugh lightly, not wanting to be left out. Roman finally says, “The Brooklyn Breakaways are the best in the league.”
“Your hometown team. That makes sense. Do you get to go to games?”
“Sometimes, but only if it’s on a weekend. I have too much homework, so Mom won’t let me go.”
Daniel comes behind him, mussing up his hair. “School is important, buddy. Your mom and I agree that it comes first. There are plenty of matches in the season for you to watch. And you can always watch one on TV.”
“It’s not the same. I don’t get to see you in person.”
Kneeling next to Roman, Daniel takes his hand. It’s so small against his—protective but gentle. My heart clings to the moment I’m witnessing between father and son and remembering how I felt the same when my dad was alive. He loved us with his entire being and made it known. There wasn’t a time that I didn’t feel the full wealth of being my parents’ kid. As the oldest, I know I was the most fortunate to have the extra years with them that I did. I could only wish my sisters had the same.
Daniel says, “I know it’s hard with me on the road most of the time, but we have the summer to make up for it. Okay?” Roman nods, his expression not convinced, but he hugs his dad anyway. “I love you, buddy.”
“Love you, too.”
When Daniel stands, he continues holding Roman’s hand. “I think we’ll stay at the cottage tonight. It will be like camping but with nice beds.”
“In case you change your mind, I’ll keep my phone on.”
He looks down as if a shyness comes over him. “Thanks.”
Dolly turns with a tin in her hands. “Cookies for the road?”
“We won’t say no,” Daniel replies. “Thanks, Dolly.” When his eyes land on me again, he grins. It’s not smirky inthe least, but it is endearing. “We’ll get out of your hair for the night.”
