attention?” I poked her in the shoulder, and she grinned.
“Maybe I made a few unfair assumptions.”
I reached out and twirled a strand of her hair around my finger. “My point is, none of us are who we were at eighteen. Not even Amie Jo. And especially not you. You know what people remember more than a salacious story from our teenage years?”
“What?” she asked, resting her cheek against my hand. I felt something warm slide through my belly.
“How you make them feel now.”
“You definitely aren’t the same guy you were twenty years ago,” Marley admitted.
“So let’s go out there and erase a few old memories tonight,” I told her, nodding in the direction of the bonfire.
She bit her lip and studied me. And then she was leaning across the console and placing a soft, sweet kiss on my mouth. That warmth in my belly turned molten. This was something different from the fun and familiar tug of lust. This was something more. Marley was something more.
She pulled back, that smile I wanted on her lips.
“Thanks, Coach.”
We joined the crowd that ringed the tall flames in the middle of the star-lit field. I’d always found comfort in my history with Culpepper. I’d known the same people for decades now. And they knew me. We were part of each other’s memories. There was something to be said for sharing that kind of intimate knowledge of each other.
We understood each other.
I knew that it was apple cider in Wes Zimmerman’s cup because he’d quit drinking after a DUI six years ago. I also knew that as much as Heidi and Elton Pyle joked around about how hard raising triplets was, they thanked their lucky stars every moment of every day after a seven-year battle with infertility. I knew that Belinda Carlisle—not that one—needed a longer hug tonight because her mom was in hospice care and not expected to make it to the holidays.
I watched Marley join in the horseshoes game by the fire with Andrea, the guidance counselor, Faith Malpezzi, and our classmate Mariah. She was welcomed into their group like a long-lost friend. And really, that’s what she was. Marley had extricated herself from Culpepper. She’d left after senior year and never looked back. So it made sense that she was frozen in everyone’s mind as the girl who had been pushed too far in senior year.
“Hey, cuz!”
My cousin, Adeline, popped up next to me looking not a day over fourteen. She credited her Vietnamese heritage and Uncle Lewis’s lessons on skincare.
“Hey, Addy.” I looped my arm over her shoulder. “Long time, no see.”
My cousin might look like she was too young to drive, but she was a successful sales rep for an alternative energy company and spent a lot of her time traveling.
“I’m back for the rest of the year,” she said with a happy sigh.
“I bet Rob is happy to have you back,” I predicted. Addy’s husband, Rob, worked from home. Together, with their four kids, they achieved a delicate balance of work and family life.
“He kissed my feet when I got off the plane,” she joked. “So is that your girl?” Addy pointed her cup in Marley’s direction.
“News travels fast,” I said dryly.
“Spare me your social commentary on small-town gossip. Are you guys serious?”
I thought about our arrangement. Our temporary arrangement. And I thought about those wide, brown eyes looking up at me.
“Maybe a little more serious for me,” I admitted.
“Well, well,” she said smugly. “It’s about damn time. What do my dads think?”
“I’ve been putting off their family dinner invitations.”
She laughed. “Your mom’s birthday is next week. You have to bring her to the party, or they’ll riot.”
I sighed. “I know. I will. Unless she has a game.”
“Then we’ll reschedule,” she said helpfully.
I put her in a headlock and gave her glossy black hair a brotherly scruff. “Enough about me. What’s new in your life?”
“I’m pregnant with surprise baby number five, and Rob is getting a vasectomy tomorrow.”
I laughed loud and long. “Tell me this is the kid you’re finally naming after me.”
“Baby Jake O’Connell due next May,” she said, waving at her husband, a tall Irish-looking guy who was trash talking a neighbor in Baltimore Ravens gear. He blew her a kiss and raised his beer at me.
“Tell your dads yet?” I asked, raising my beer in response.
My uncles had the best good news reactions.
“Saving it for your mom’s birthday dinner.”
“She’ll love that.”
“Give your girl a heads up,” Addy said, nodding in Marley’s direction. “Does she even