Page 71 of One Last Summer
What I wouldn’t give to wake up to this view every morning; to replace the gray Boston skyline with Mack’s warm eyes. The thought of Boston brought back with it my simmering anger at Amaya’s total disregard of my Alewife email.
“You are way too chipper for this early in the morning,” I croaked, grabbing a pillow and slapping it down over my head. But it wasn’t Mack I wanted to drown out as much as the anxiety creeping into my brain at the thought of what awaited me back home.
He responded by digging around until he found my earlobe and tugged on it playfully, proving my point.
“It’s already eight o’clock! Don’t you have big plans today to put together our dessert party spread?”
“Come back to bed for, like, a minute,” I begged. The mattress bounced as he slid in next to me, scooting his head close to mine under the pillow so his chin pressed against my shoulder, his breath sweet on my skin. “I’m not meeting Marla until eleven.”
She and Steve had agreed to let me rummage through what was left in the dining hall kitchen to put together a massive ice cream sundae bar and had promised me a box of wish boats for tomorrow night’s final camp tradition.
I’d be able to leave here on Saturday morning with all the to-do items on my camp list checked off, but for the first time in so long, nothing about completing it left me feeling accomplished. Being here, with Mack and my friends, wasn’t something I wanted to be over.
“Well, that gives us two hours to hang out,” he said.
“I need coffee first,” I said, scooting around until we were nose to nose. “And—” I reached a cupped hand up to my mouth, exhaling. “To brush my teeth.”
“What are you talking about?” He ran his hand up the side of my stomach, tickling my ribs. “I love the smell of your morning breath.”
I grabbed the pillow behind our heads and smushed it against his face, squinting at the light splattered across the wall.
“Well, I like the smell of your body odor, so I guess we’re even,” I said, sliding over to the side of the bed and rising with a stretch of my arms.
“Wait, you do?” he asked, propping himself up on his elbow. “I think we need to dig into this, Millen.”
“Can we analyze it over coffee?” I asked, pulling on a pair of borrowed sweats.
“Absolutely.” Mack nodded toward the ladder. “I have coffee and bagels waiting for you. Also, I bought some heavy cream. That’s how you like your coffee, right?”
It was this that woke me up. Not the promise of coffee, though I was freaking psyched to pump my body full of caffeine. It was this vision of Mack waking up early and running out to buy me something as simple as heavy cream, because he knew it would make my life exponentially better. I’d never even mentioned that this was how I liked my coffee, but somehow, he’d noticed.
Once downstairs, I shuffled toward the French doors, swinging them open to take in the outside world. The sunshine was working its way through the sheet of gray covering the sky, and a few scattered rays bounced off the water, glimmering like crystals in the morning light. I took a deep inhale of the crisp morning and turned back into the boathouse to see Mack studying me from the kitchen sink.
If all I did today was stare at the water—and his face—it would be enough.
“Earth to Clara Millen!” Mack’s voice was low and insistent, and he beckoned me toward him with a wave, butter knife in hand. “Your bagel’s ready.”
“Sorry,” I said, sidling up next to him at the counter. “I think I forgot what I was supposed to be doing.”
“Running the world? Making fun of me? Taking your clothes off?” He slid a steaming mug toward me before reaching up to tug gently on a strand of my hair, twisting it like a ribbon before tucking it behind my ear. “I have more ideas, if you want them.”
“Not to insult your genius, but right now I just want to eat,” I said as I reached for a bagel.
“Eat. Then nakedness?” He scrunched his face in deep thought, like he was considering the idea. “It’s not like we have anything else to do today.”
“Um, excuse me, I have a dessert party to organize,” I mumbled through a mouthful of soft, doughy deliciousness. “I need to make sure we have enough ice cream and chocolate sauce for seven people.”
“Fine, I guess I have no choice but to go run errands then. I need to buy boxes so I can start packing.” He reached out a hand, pulling me up to stand. “Come on, let’s go eat on the deck.”
“This is so freaking good.” I waved the bagel in his face as he led me outside. “We have bagels every Friday morning at work from what’s supposed to be the best bagel shop in Boston, and these are a billion times better.”
“Side hustle of one of the dining hall cooks,” Mack explained as he bent down and grabbed a faded sailing rope off the dock, absentmindedly twisting it into a knot. “Kai. She sells them at the farmer’s market in town too.”
“Well, if this Brad knows what’s good for his new resort, he’ll hire her,” I muttered. I waited for a moment, expecting Mack to chime in, but he stayed quiet, curling the cloud-colored, braided rope around and around, knotting and unknotting, a puzzle he could solve in his sleep.
“You’re feisty today,” he said finally, turning in his chair to face me. “Did something set you off? Besides, you know. Brad.”
He cocked his head in my direction, eyes widening, daring me to reminisce about the way I’d pushed him up against the ladder in the boathouse last night, yanking his boxers down as I slid onto my knees in front of him.
