“What?”
“Natalie.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “When was the last time we got to go anywhere in mid-summer, much less a tropical island? I need this. We need this. We’re going.”
My mom, exasperated, looked at me. I said, “I think it sounds great. You totally should do it.”
“See? Even Louna thinks so.” He dropped his hands. “Oh, I can’t wait. I am going to buy a straw hat just for the occasion. I’ll get you one, too.”
“I don’t want a straw hat.”
“You’ll change your mind,” he said easily. “Now come on. Let’s go finish that bottle at your place. Then we can go online and order resort wear.”
My mom still didn’t look convinced, but she followed him to the van, climbing into the passenger seat. To be honest, I couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken a vacation, and never during wedding season. Everything was different this summer.
As they drove off, my phone beeped. It was Ben. Already. Interesting.
KNOW YOU MIGHT STILL BE WORKING BUT I WAS THINKING LATE NIGHT BREAKFAST. WORLD OF WAFFLES?
“Well, that’s romantic,” Ambrose, who was somehow looking over my shoulder again, said. “Pancakes and thee? That’s a seriously awesome first date. You have to do it.”
I just looked at him until, slowly, he took a step back. “Why are you so invested in this? You were on us like a chaperone earlier.”
“I’m a curious person,” he said, like this was an excuse. “Also I have a lot invested in winning this bet.”
“I thought you said you had it in the bag. That Lauren makes it easy.”
“I do, and she does. But now you’re bringing in pancakes. I have to stay vigilant.”
I looked back at my phone. It was late evening, the whole night ahead of us. Pancakes would be a great start. And yet I knew I wouldn’t. I’d had the most epic of nights once. Things like that didn’t happen again.
WISH I COULD. WIPED. TEXT ME TOMORROW?
The little dots appeared: he’d been waiting. SURE. SLEEP GOOD.
“What?” Ambrose said. I looked at him. “You just made a face.”
“Did I?”
“Yeah.” He read the screen—of course he did—then clicked his tongue. “And I don’t get it, either. That is good play he’s giving. Pancakes? Telling you how to sleep? How can you not be into that?”
I put my phone back in my pocket. “It’s not him.”
“Then what is it?”
I looked up at him, trying to figure out how to answer this. In the weeks since we’d gone to Kirby’s together, I’d been waiting for the subject of Ethan to come up some other way between us. A passing mention from my mom, or William, or even Jilly. But it hadn’t. As far as he knew, I’d just had a bad breakup.
“Just too much like a first date I had with someone else,” I said. “Nobody wants to be a pale imitation.”
He studied me a second. Then he said, “That boyfriend of yours must have really been something. If the split ruined pancakes for you and everything.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Plus, I’m tired. But don’t worry. Ben and I will have a great date this week. Don’t count me out yet. I’m still on track to win.”
I expected him to laugh at this, or respond in kind with his typical bravado. Instead, he said nothing, just stood there until I was acutely aware of his silence. “Okay,” he said finally. “We’ll see.”
I smiled, shifting my bag to my other arm. It seemed a weird way to leave things, heavy in a sense I couldn’t explain. Without thinking, I reached forward to his jacket pocket, pulling out one of those folded Kleenexes. “Sorry,” I said. “Couldn’t resist.”
“Must be going around,” he replied.
A car pulled into the lot then, curving around to stop in front of us. It was Lauren, in a black tank dress and silver bracelets, her hair in loose waves. Ira was in the front seat, panting, his signature bandana—yellow this time—tied jauntily around his neck. “Hey,” she said. “All done here?”
I slipped the tissue into my pocket as Ambrose said, “Yep. Let’s go.”
She waved at me as he climbed into the front seat, Ira jumping into the back and just as quickly poking his head up through the space between them. Just one big happy family, I thought, as they drove off. On my own way home, I passed the World of Waffles, lit up and busy as it seemed to be all times of the night, and wondered if I’d made a mistake. Just as quickly, though, I’d passed by, and it was behind me.
CHAPTER
20
BY THE beginning of the following week, my mom was finally coming around to the idea of a couple of days away. She was predicting the trip would be a disaster, mind you, and saying she’d never agree to an actual wedding that far offsite in a million years. But for her, this was progress.
“See that?” she said to me on Tuesday morning, as she sat in front of Daybreak USA with her coffee. Melissa Scott was narrating a segment entitled “Tourist Traps!” that detailed various scams crooks used on people while on vacation. Or, as it might as well have been called, Exhibit A. “They ask you for help, then they steal your passport, then you can never get home. It’s evil genius.”
“You can get another passport,” I pointed out, sticking a straw in the smoothie I’d just made. “You don’t have to, like, live there forever.”
Mom grumbled as Melissa held up the travel wallet the current expert recommended, which basically made it possible to attach your currency and documents to your body in a series of what looked like double knots. “I mean, really. I can’t wear something like that! I just shouldn’t go. This is ridiculous.”
I slid into the seat beside her, facing our kitchen TV. “Mom,” I said. “What’s your real issue, here? This can’t just be about an offsite wedding. It’s too crazy even for you.”
She gave me a look. “Oh, that’s nice. Thank you.”
“You know what I mean. Seriously, what gives?”
In response, she looked down at her coffee cup, running her finger around the rim. “I’ve just never been much of the vacation type. That’s it.”
“Because you didn’t have the opportunity,” I said. “Also, you were stuck with me.”
“I have never been stuck with you,” she replied. Then she reached over, brushing my hair back with her free hand. “You are the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“Okay,” I said, “but you’re still not answering my question.”
Exasperated, she dropped her hand. “Look. I know it’s not a popular or common thing, but I like working. I prefer it, actually. If I’m not doing my job then I feel at loose ends. Which is bad enough here at home. But we’re going to be on an island. With no escape.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Are you serious? But you always talk about how much you hate your job.”