Mystic Summer (24 page)

My father narrows his eyes.

“But I can get a room at the Mystic Inn, for myself,” Evan adds.

“Nonsense,” my mother insists. “We have plenty of room here.” She hasn't
stopped smiling since we walked through the front door. “And please, call me Marie.”

My parents met Evan once before, back in the fall, when they came to Boston for a weekend. We'd been dating for only a few months at the time, so I'd kept the introductions brief and had him come by their hotel for brunch the Sunday morning before they went back home. I remember barely touching my eggs Benedict, for fear that if I didn't steer the conversation, they might ask him something embarrassing or make some weighty comment about our relationship that exceeded the few tender months we'd been dating. Like the first time that Jane brought Toby home to meet all of us, and my mother asked Toby if he wanted children. “What?” she'd protested when Jane cornered her in the kitchen after Toby had left. “Your college years go by fast—why waste time dating someone who doesn't have the same vision for your future?”

“My vision, or yours, Mother?” Jane had shouted back at her.

Now, seated politely across from one another in my parents' chintz-filled living room, there is a long beat of silence, but I'm too overwhelmed to fill it before my mother does.

“Maggie, can you believe that Evan drove Erika's veil all the way down from Boston!”

Her eyes land on me, expectantly, and it's all I can do not to turn away from their hopeful glare. “I cannot,” I say. Leave it to Erika. “Let me get some snacks. You must be hungry, Evan.”

Safe in the kitchen, I pull my phone from my pocket. “Want to guess who's sitting in my parents' living room?”

“I've been trying to reach you all night. Why did you hang up?”

“Erika!
You know how mixed up I am right now. How could you pick Evan to drive your veil down here?”

“I didn't, I promise! He mentioned to Trent that he was going to surprise you. It just made sense that if he was already driving to Mystic anyway . . .”

I'm near my boiling point. So, maybe she didn't exactly arrange it. But, despite the fact that she knew how conflicted I was, she sure didn't let a free ride for her veil get away from her, either. “You shouldn't have let him. You should have told me. Or something.” I don't know whom I'm most upset with. To be fair, Erika did try to call. And the only thing Evan is guilty of is being sweet—to both of us. Which leaves only me.

“Mags, you've got to calm down. This is a good thing. He came all the way here to make things up to you!”

I slap a block of cheddar cheese on a platter and check the expiration date. It's only a day past. Just like my sanity.

Erika adopts her legal adviser voice. “Listen to me. Seeing Evan face-to-face will wipe away any doubts you're feeling. You'll know he's the one.”

“All I know is that my head is about to explode. Want to take a guess where Evan found me?”

“I thought you were at home.”

“Erika, you are so late to this party. We're here now. But an hour ago I was at the Harp and Hound with someone. And Evan just happened to spot us walking over the bridge as he drove through town.”

She pauses. “Wait. Not with Cam?”

“You've arrived.”

“Maggie! What happened?”

At that moment my mother comes bustling in to the kitchen behind me and grabs a box of tissues. “Erika, I have to go. I'll let you imagine all the rest.”

My mother is actually humming.

There is a series of loud sneezes from the living room. Mom holds up the box of tissues. “These are for Evan. Your dad's telling him all about the boat show at the Seaport. You should take him.”

I follow her to the doorway. Evan is listening politely as my father goes on about the boat show, but I can see from here that both his eyes are swelling up. It's then that I notice Winston perching on the back of the couch behind him. And all of our strained conversations about Mr. Kringles and apartments come wheeling back.

“Oh look, another member of the family wants to meet you,” my father says. I watch in horror as my father scoops Winston up and deposits him right on Evan's lap. Evan sneezes again.

“Dad, Evan has allergies!” A flash of alarm crosses his face, and my father leaps up to relieve Evan of Winston. But Evan holds up his hand.

“It's okay,” he lies, scratching behind Winston's ears for emphasis. “Now, what were you saying about the Seaport?”

My father launches back into his history lesson, and my mother fusses over my arrangement of the cracker tray, while Evan mops his runny nose. At that moment our eyes meet, and he winks. Despite our missed connections this summer and everything that I just left on the bridge, my heart tingles. I wink back.

One hour and two doses of Benadryl later, my parents have finally gone upstairs to bed. I sit beside Evan on the couch and press a tissue to nose. “You are such a sport. I'm sorry about this.”

“About what?”

“I guess we can skip the allergy testing.” I dab his nose again.

“Don't worry, it looks worse than it is.”

“You didn't have to hold the cat in your lap. And pat it all night!”

He smiles. “It's your father's cat.”

“And you're his daughter's guest,” I say. But it comes out wrong.

Evan tucks a piece of hair behind my ear, his brow furrowed. “Is that who I am? The guest?”

“Of course not. You know what I mean.”

This is Evan's first visit to my home. I should be elated. I should be sitting on the pink rug in my childhood room with him, paging through my old photo albums and showing him my junior high art show plaque. The things you do when you want to share the span of your life with someone special.

“So, who was that with you earlier?”

I've wondered when Evan would get around to asking me about Cam; now my mixed sense of guilt and uncertainty simmers to the surface.

“That guy you were walking with,” Evan adds. He doesn't mention the arm around me. I wonder what else he may have seen.

“Cameron? He's just an old friend who recently moved back to town.” I try to keep my expression even. “With his daughter,”
I add, as though Emory serves as an appropriate barrier to my having been walking on the bridge with Cam's arm wrapped around my shoulder.

Evan nods thoughtfully. “Cameron. Haven't heard you mention him before.” Hearing him say Cam's name out loud brands the moment in my mind.

“He's just an old friend,” I say again. “I babysat for his daughter recently, and we were just catching up and grabbing a bite to eat,” I add.

Evan shrugs. “If you say that's all it is, then that's all it is.”

Only, I didn't say
that's all
.

When Evan leans in and presses his lips to mine, it's familiar and warm. Not awkward or confusing. There is no doubt about whether or not this kiss happened or how Evan feels.

“Was it okay that I surprised you like that?” he whispers.

I press my cheek against the soft blue of his Tufts T-shirt, relieved. “I'm so glad you did. And I can't believe you brought Erika's veil.”

Evan tips my chin and kisses me again. “It had nothing to with the veil.”

I decide right there on my parents' couch that if Evan asks me anything else, I will tell him. I will answer any question he poses. Even if it's why my lips touched Cameron's. But he doesn't.

“So, what do you want to watch?” he asks, as I flick through the TV stations. If only my mind could switch as easily as the channels.

Evan has to head back to Boston. We do a whirlwind tour of Mystic, which is thankfully quieter than normal because of a
light rainfall. We grab ice cream, drive over to the Seaport, and walk around in the mist. It's not at all the kind of summer day in Mystic I'd described, but Evan doesn't seem to mind. Only once do I wonder about Cam, not having spoken to him since I climbed into Evan's car the night before. If Evan is thinking about it, he doesn't let on. As we walk over the Bascule Bridge to the pier, I grab his hand. I will talk to Cam later. And even though I have no idea what I'll say, I'll worry about that later, too.

Before Evan has to leave, my mother begs me to pop by Jane's house so that I can introduce him. Which turns into an early dinner. Which turns into a Griffin family event.

We arrive early, which I have learned is never a good idea when visiting a family with small children, especially on a rainy day. Even with pizza in tow.

“Everyone, I'd like you to meet Evan.” I glance around Jane's kitchen at all the upturned faces. Lucy's tiny face is red and twisted—in the midst of full meltdown in Jane's arms. Randall is seated in the middle of the floor behind a tower of LEGOs, his mouth stained an unnatural shade of purple. The dog is chewing something under the table that looks like a purse. “Evan, this is everyone.”

Owen is first to break the silence. “You're not Cameron.”

My mother and Jane's faces flash with something akin to confusion, followed by suspicion. Evan looks at the ground, and for a second I think the room will burst into flames.

“This is my friend
Evan,”
I say, redirecting Owen to the LEGO tower after a quick hug. Luckily, the usual chaos of Jane's house interrupts the moment anyway.

Lucy is fussing and Jane is in a foul mood today, I can tell,
as she plunks Lucy in my mother's arms and stalks across the room to rescue something glass from Randall's grip. Toby is sprawled across the couch in a pair of sweats. He shakes hands with Evan from his prone position, a move that garners steely glares from both Jane and me.

“Sorry, dude. Don't mind me.” He points affectionately to Lucy, who is wriggling in my mother's arms in the next room. “It's been a while since I've slept.”

“That's rough. How long has she been up for?” Evan asks warily.

Toby shouts out to the kitchen. “Janey, how old is the baby?”

Jane scoffs. “You mean
Lucy
? Who is
seven
months old?”

Toby winks at Evan. “That long.”

Grand Central has nothing on Jane's house at dinner hour. There is the usual family banter, where everyone talks over the top of one another, no one listens, and conversations are repeated at least a half-dozen times before we sit down. Jane makes an initial scramble to scoop up toys and kick stray shoes out of the way, before giving up and dumping them all in the dog's bed. Randall announces loudly that Lucy's diaper needs changing.

I steal a peek at Evan to see how he's handling all this. Toby has gotten up long enough to pass out beers to the guys, and the men have hunkered down in the living room to watch the game.

Jane corners me in the kitchen. I notice Lucy isn't the only one who's been changed; Jane's traded her stained yoga pants for crisp jeans.

“Did you just put on makeup?” I ask.

She ignores me. “So, how is Evan's visit going?”

“Okay.”

Jane shakes her head. “Just okay? Are we talking about the same guy in the pressed shirt who's entertaining my kids in my living room?”

I glance over. Evan has moved down to the carpet and is building LEGOs with Randall. Toby and my father are still glued to the couch.

My mother, who has busied herself with the salad, is pretending not to listen, but she can't help herself. “Evan surprised Maggie. Isn't that sweet?” She points the salad spoon at Jane. “Did you know Erika forgot her wedding veil in Boston, and Evan drove it home for her? Saved her all that trouble.”

Jane drains her glass of wine. “Jesus. I can't even get Toby to drive to the market for milk. And if he does, all he comes home with is a bag of Twizzlers.”

“I can't wait to see an episode of Evan's show,” my mother continues. I wonder how many of her book club friends she has called since he arrived.

“It doesn't air again until this fall, Mom,” I remind her again.