“Cole,” Mara answers. “I think that she should call him and tell him that she misses him.”
Mom nods thoughtfully. “He was a very attractive young man.”
I put my hands up and duck my head to the counter. “Ugh. I’m not—I can’t even have this conversation with you guys. Honestly.”
Dad walks in the kitchen. “What are we not talking about?”
“No.” I adamantly glare at my mother and my sister. “Definitely not.”
Ignoring me, Mom says: “Cole. Mara thinks that Aimee should reach out to the boy and settle things.”
“Mmm...” Dad nods his head once and sits down at the kitchen table.
“Ugh!” I moan. “We’re not doing this.”
Mom points a wooden spoon at me. “Remember that Dr. Bernstein told us that communication is key.”
“Then let’s communicate. Let’s talk about something else… anything else!”
Dad pipes up. “I read an article in Men’s Health about kayaking and—”
Mara cuts him off. “I saw Daniel on campus the other day and we talked about the situation.”
That whips my head around. “You what?”
“Daniel Kearns?” Mom asks as she measures out a half-cup of vegetable oil.
“Yep. If you remember correctly, we do know each other from high school.” Mara clicks her tongue and shakes her head. “Anyway, Daniel agrees with me. And the two of us have decided that if you and Cole don’t talk soon, we’re going to have to pull a parent trap number and force you together.”
“You’re not my parent, Mara,” I say, twisting my hair over my finger.
Mara flares her eyelids. “You know what I mean. Daniel told me that Cole is still completely heartbroken.”
Mom’s forehead creases and she frowns. “Poor thing.”
“Mom, it’s not—” A loud noise interrupts me.
“Wha—”
You would think, with the way the members of my family react to the sound of the doorbell, that we’re Colonials and this is the eve of the British invasion.
Mara yelps. Mom drops the wooden spoon she’s holding.
“What the?” That’s dad, checking the digital clock above the stove, furrowing his brow.
Mom titters, moves the mixing bowl back to the center island opposite the sink. “Don’t answer it, Carl.”
“Why?” I interject, stepping off the barstool more out of instinct than curiosity.
Mom runs the wooden spoon under the tap, wipes it on the bottom of her apron and shrugs delicately. “Could be burglars.”
“Burglars ringing the doorbell?”
“You never know…”
Dad ignores her and strides to the foyer with me on his heels. The doorbell sounds again.
“Coming!” He bellows, flipping the lock with his left hand.
“Shhhh!” Mara is pushing herself into my back.
“Shhh, what? I don’t understand why we’re all so jumpy.” I glance over my shoulder and see Mara and Mom both creeping up behind me, back-to-back, shoulders curved forward like quotation marks.
“Oh.” Mom’s changing expression is my first warning. Mara’s gasp is my second.
Nerves escalating, pit in my stomach gaping open, chills prickling over my skin, I swivel my neck around and look.
One. Two. Three. Breathe.
It’s Cole.
I can’t quite believe it, but of course it’s Cole.
He really is standing here—just this side of my front door with his blond hair looking blonder and his green eyes looking greener and his muscly body looking more muscular than ever.
I’m hyperaware of every single breath, every flutter of air that passes in the space between us. Cole moves his mouth slightly and I feel an answering tingle nip below my navel.
My mom is the first to break the magical spell and speak. “Cole, how nice to see you.” She comes forward, tugging on my hand as she passes by.
Her words seem to spur the rest of the Spencer clan into motion. Dad starts in about his new kayak (what is with him and the kayak?), Mara blathers something about midterms. Mom nods appropriately and does a lot of smoothing of her clothes.
This is surreal. I’m almost afraid to blink my eyes, but I do, and my faith is rewarded by the fact that he doesn’t just… evaporate. He’s still standing here in my house, with his weight on one leg, hands tucked deep into his pockets, talking to my family like a normal human, all while keeping his eyes on me.
An awful thought hits me and my hand snaps to the rat’s nest that is my unwashed hair and my eyes dart down to the old camp shirt that I found and slipped over my head after I got home from the pool.
Nice.