Faye, I’m hungry,” the small voice says directly into my ear, forcing me to wake with a start—much earlier than I was prepared to. Probably because I’ve only been asleep a few hours, having snuck in at nearly dawn from Kaden’s cottage.
I fell asleep there, wrapped in his arms, after returning from the Saturday night party Maggie had insisted we attend. Thankfully, I woke before the sun rose.
A finger pokes my forehead. “Faaaaye, are you awake?”
“Yup,” I say, squinting my eyes open. “I’m awake.”
I roll onto my back and stretch my body long from head to toe. Parker crawls up on the bed and begins jumping around me, giggling.
I sit up and scoop him in my arms, tickling him. He squeals and wiggles.
“What do you want for breakfast?” I ask, setting him on the floor.
“Waffles.”
I breathe in the cool, salty air that rustles the sheer white curtains. The edge of the lawn and the ocean fill my window, the sun a sphere of golden warmth hovering above the cresting ocean. I love this island and can’t believe this is the last full day we’ll be here this year. I dread the thought of returning to school in Sherling.
Just one more year, I repeat in my head—it may be my mantra for the next nine months until I return to Nantucket.
Even if I don’t return as Niall and Olivia’s nanny, Kaden promised last night that I could spend next summer at the cottage with him.
I crawl out from under the blankets and grab Kaden’s sweatshirt that I stole from him last night before I snuck into the main house. “Let’s go make some waffles.” I pull the length of my hair off my back, securing a messy knot low on my head with a scrunchie.
Parker jumps and skips, spinning the entire way down the stairs to the open and airy foyer. My heart warms every time I step into this space. It always feels like the sun is shining regardless of what it’s doing outside.
Helen teases that I dream of a life that isn’t mine. But she’s wrong. If anything doesn’t feel real, it’s the world I’m returning to tomorrow in Sherling, where no one has any dreams at all.
“Remember to keep your voice quiet, so you don’t wake anyone up,” I tell Parker, lifting him onto his booster seat at the kitchen table, where a line of cars and trucks wait for him to play while I make breakfast.
Even walking around the space, pulling bowls out and setting up the waffle iron, feels familiar … like I’ve done it my entire life.
“Will Isaac like waffles too?” Parker asks as I pull out the ingredients for the batter.
“I think so,” I say. “You’ll have to ask him when he wakes up.”
“I’m gonna wake him up now.” Parker squirms his way out of the booster, dropping below the table. He crawls out and takes off, running toward the stairs.
I don’t bother going after him. If I’m forced to be awake, it won’t hurt Isaac to be as well.
I open the refrigerator to remove the eggs and milk. I have to shuffle the contents around. The shelves are filled with food, in preparation for the elaborate family picnic we’re planning this afternoon. When I close the refrigerator door, someone is leaning against the counter. I jump, nearly dropping the carton of eggs.
“Good morning, Peach,” Damon greets me with a wink.
“Good morning, Damon,” I reply politely, moving past him.
Before I’m clear of him, he wraps an arm around my waist, twirling me until I’m flush against his chest. I freeze.
He takes the eggs and milk from my hands, setting them on the counter. He spins me around in a clumsy dance. Alcohol fumes roll off his skin. I hold up my hands, not sure where to place them. My body remains stiff as he sways and twirls us. I laugh uncomfortably at his drunken playfulness, hoping to extricate myself without offending him.
“Did you have fun at the party last night?” he asks, nuzzling his face into my neck, his stubble scratching my skin.
I immediately push away, my back colliding with the hard edge of the island.
“Hey, sorry. Was just being friendly.” He chuckles, flashing me the seductive grin that had a coed sitting on his lap all night. Perhaps more than one. When I last saw him, he was sucking on someone’s neck with a hand in a place that makes me blush, just thinking about it.
“It was okay.” I try to appear unaffected and focus intently on measuring and pouring the ingredients into a bowl.
Damon leans back against the counter, his hands stuffed in his front pockets. He tilts his head sheepishly. “Really, I’m sorry if I crossed a line, Faye. I think I’m still drunk.”
He offers a small smile and blinks those dark, soulful eyes as a means of a white flag. And it’s frustratingly endearing.
Even after spending time with Damon on and off since meeting him Thursday night, I still have no idea what to make of him. He’s charming and sweet one minute and despicable and arrogant the next. The latter usually comes out to play after he’s been drinking. He runs a hand through his sandy hair, combing it back, the gel having given way long ago, so now it hangs in a wave to the side, sweeping across his handsome face.
“Truce?” he offers, pulling a hand out of a pocket for me to shake.
A ping reverberates off the tile. I turn toward it just as Maggie enters the kitchen, her short brown hair spiking around her head like she just crawled through a pile of blankets.
“Drop something?” she notes with a sweet, girlish bat of her lashes. She bends to pick up the ring that’s spinning in an endless circle at her feet. She rolls it in her fingers. “You don’t want to lose this.”
I’ve stopped mixing the batter, watching her approach him. He eyes her like a predator, licking his teeth, his charm warring with cunning. Maggie places the gold band in his palm, their skin touching a beat too long. The hairs on the back of my neck rise.
“Thank you,” he says, grinning like he knows a secret and wants her to get a little closer to whisper it in her ear—before sinking his teeth into her neck.
Maggie’s green eyes are electric, like a spark has lit her up from within.
She’s always been a flirt. I’ve accepted that it’s part of her personality. It’s not who she is but how she’s made. I’ve even seen her flirt with Niall, and that’s … disturbing. But she doesn’t mean anything by it. We’ve been friends long enough for me to know that. At this point, I’m convinced I know her as well as my sisters, maybe even better. And this … feels dangerous.
“Isaac wants chocolate chip waffles,” Parker announces, a sleepy Isaac trailing behind him.
I nearly drop the bowl that’s in my arms, alarmed by the boys’ entrance. I have no idea what’s got me so on edge this morning. “I’ll have to see if we have any chocolate chips.”
“I’ll look,” Maggie offers cheerily, disappearing into the pantry.
“Would you like some waffles too?” Parker asks Damon, who’s sliding the ring onto his finger.
“I think Uncle Damon needs to go to bed,” he tells Parker.
“But we’re already awake,” Parker argues, not understanding.
“Some of us for way too long,” he tells the boy, ruffling his dark hair. “See you later, Peach,” he says as he passes me, trailing a hand along my arm.