I laugh.

“Can you lie with me anyway?” he asks softly.

“I can, but it’s really hot, Kyle.”

He toys with the drawstring of my shorts. “Maybe not if you take that off.”

Something about the way he says it—his voice, his gaze, the touch of longing in his words—makes my body shiver in the most pleasant way.

I swallow against my sudden nervousness.

Under his watchful eye, I shrug off my clothes until I’m standing in nothing, his eyes absorbing me. I don’t feel the least bit self-conscious, which is a far cry from how I was only weeks ago.

Lifting his hips off his bed, he slides his swim trunks off and casts them aside.

The stifling air in the cabin has turned electric with promise as I lie down atop the sleeping bag next to Kyle. Our uneven breathing tangles for a moment as the only sound to be heard, and then Kyle rolls over, fitting himself between my thighs, resting on his elbows as he peers down at me for several long moments.

“I’m so in love with you, Piper.”

I smile, reaching up to toy with strands of his spiky hair. “I love you, too, Kyle. I can’t even describe how much.”

Another moment passes and then he reaches next to him for his wallet.

The next thirty minutes will be ingrained in my memory forever—I don’t know how they possibly can’t be. Watching Kyle fumble with the condom to ease it on, tasting the salt on his lips from the hot summer day as he kisses me, feeling our hot, slick skin pressed against each other as he prods at my entrance, feeling him sink deeper and deeper in, past the painful pinch.

Hearing him whisper in my ear over and over again how much he loves me as our bodies rock back and forth against each other, finding a blissful rhythm in the dim, stuffy camp cabin on a sweltering summer afternoon.

Chapter 19

NOW

“It feels like forever since we last lunched. When was it, Mother’s Day?” My mom smooths her hand over her sleek blonde ponytail and then busies herself laying a cloth napkin over her lap to protect her cream-colored pants. She is the only woman I know who dares to wear cream-colored pants to an Italian restaurant.

“I’ve been busy. And you haven’t exactly been around, either.” We have a standing lunch date in our calendars the first Sunday of every month. We’ve taken turns canceling on each other the last two.

“I know, darling. I was hoping to have all the renovations finished by now, but this contractor does not seem to know what he’s doing. I won’t be recommending him.” She smiles. “But, I have to say, you are glowing. Is this about David?” She glances at my left hand, no doubt to check for the engagement ring.

“David and I are over. We will never get back together,” I say as slowly and firmly as I can, because neither of my parents seems to be able to let go of that dream.

“Well, who is it, then?”

“Who says it’s about a man?”

The waiter swings by to drop off a bottle of sauvignon blanc, saving me from having to discuss last night’s knee-buckling kiss from my first love. I tossed for hours in bed pondering it, my body a live wire, thoughts of Kyle churning in my mind, the wish to have him lying next to me overwhelming.

“So what are you doing in the city, anyway?” I rush to move the topic off me for the moment. “You said you were visiting someone?”

“Just a friend.” She brings her glass to her lips, letting it linger there a long moment, her eyes roaming the menu.

I make a point of holding my glass in the air. “Cheers, Mom.”

“Oh, right, of course.” She laughs, following suit to let our glasses clink. “I forgot.”

Cocktail etiquette is second nature to my mother. She never forgets. Which means she’s either lying or hiding something.

“A male friend?” I push.

She hesitates. “He is male, yes.” Another long moment passes and then finally she dares to meet my gaze, her rose-painted lips pursing with a small, knowing smile.

“Are you dating someone?” I whisper excitedly.

“I’m not exactly sure. We’re taking things slow.”

Lord knows it’s time. After her affair with the tennis player that summer I was at Wawa and the ensuing ugly divorce, there was a lengthy dating blackout period in Mom’s life, where she wouldn’t even broach the thought. There’ve been a few men since then—one who even managed to slip a ring on her finger for all of a week before she politely returned it.

It’s been at least two years since she last mentioned anything that sounds like a date, though I’m sure there’s been no shortage of suitors lurking.

“Who is he? What’s his name? What does he do?” I rifle off question after question.

She holds a perfect, manicured hand up in the air to quiet me. “It’s still in the early stages.”

“You have to tell me something!”

“Well. He’s . . . a man,” she begins.

I roll my eyes.

“He’s age-appropriate.”

“More than I can say for Dad, so thank you for that,” I mutter through a sip. While my mother could easily pass for a decade younger than her fifty-seven years, I’ve had enough of my parents dating people closer to my age than their own.

She smirks. “He’s unexpected. And surprising.” Her blue eyes twinkle. “And that’s all I’m comfortable with saying at this point, so please don’t push. I don’t want to jinx it.”

“Wow. It sounds like you really like this guy.”

“Honestly?” She lets out a shaky sigh. “I haven’t felt like this in forever, Piper. He brings out something in me that I thought I’d lost. Well, anyway, I’m really hoping this works out, yes.” She laughs. “Listen to me. I sound like a giggling, foolish teenager! Never thought I’d be revisiting those years.”

I snort, and nearly choke on my wine. You and me both.

“So? What’s new with you? You mentioned in your message that you wanted to talk about something.”

“Yeah.” I groan. “Dad.”

She holds a smile, but it turns tight. Forced. “What did he do now?”

“Not now, but I think he did something really shitty thirteen years ago.”

Leaning back in her chair, drink in hand as if arming herself, she mutters, “Go on.”