An Invincible Summer (Wyndham Beach #1)(69)
She showered and got into bed, and stacked the pillows behind her before she pulled up the light spread. She gazed out the window at the night sky, dark and dotted with stars, easily visible in the country town she lived in where there was little ambient light. She picked one and made a wish, something she wasn’t sure she’d admit to, but old habits were hard to break. Earlier she and Daisy had sat on their little patio, and Daisy had recited her version of “Star Light, Star Bright,” ending with a wish she could find her glowworm, which she’d been looking for all afternoon. Natalie suspected Daisy had sneaked the toy into day care and left it there. Natalie would check in the morning when she dropped her daughter off.
Natalie hadn’t seen Grace since she’d left for Wyndham Beach, but she sounded so much better than she had when she’d left. Natalie still couldn’t believe the shitstorm that had hit out of the blue, forcing her sister from her job and her home. She hoped Amber faced a prison sentence for her part in ruining Grace’s life. Still, things were looking better for Grace right then than they were for Amber, a fact that Natalie found gratifying.
She stretched out and closed her eyes, but all she could think about was the upcoming concert and seeing Chris Dean again. It had been about twelve years since she’d seen him, and that last night they had been together had left her confused and unsettled. She had been seventeen and about to go abroad for six weeks in Italy, touring art museums with a friend from school—a combined graduation gift and early eighteenth-birthday present from her parents—and Chris had been twenty-one and about to embark on his band’s first legit tour. They’d sat side by side, elbows touching, on the big rock overlooking the harbor, watching the sun set. Darkness had slowly grown around them as the lights came on in the houses across the water.
“We’re just the opening-opening-opening act,” he’d told her, “but you walk before you run, right?”
“I’m not sure what that means, exactly, but nonetheless, I am impressed.”
Chris had laughed. “It means there are two other opening acts after us and before the main event. They always put the least known act on first. That would be us. But that’s one of the things I’ve always liked about you, Nat. Everyone else just said ‘Cool’ when I told them. You’re the only one who was interested enough to ask.”
“My dad always says, ‘If you don’t ask, you don’t learn.’”
“So it’s my turn to ask. What exactly will you be doing this summer, besides fighting off all those Italian guys who’ll be following you around, begging for a date?” He’d slipped into an exaggerated accent. “Ciao, bella. You are beautiful. Will you marry me?”
Natalie had laughed. “Right. I’m sure I’ll be pursued by scores of Italian lovers.”
“Would-be lovers,” he’d said. “You’re too smart to fall for a line.”
“Maybe I’ll want to, before I come home. Why go to Italy if you’re not going to sample the local talent?”
“Natalie Flynn. We both know that would never happen.”
“We don’t know. That’s the fun of a summer abroad without my parents. Maybe I’ll meet someone tall, dark, and handsome, and he’ll sweep me off my feet.”
“Don’t,” he’d said with less levity than she’d expected. “If that happened, you wouldn’t come back.”
“And?”
“And I’m going to be thinking about you being here, in Wyndham Beach.”
“Why? You won’t be here. You’ll be flying all over the world, with groupies begging to sleep with you, selling out arenas. Becoming an international rock star. You won’t have time to think about me here or anywhere else.” She’d risked a quick peek at his face, to see if she could tell what he was thinking.
“I’m hoping you’re right about the international thing. Our band is so good. We deserve to make it, Nat. But the rest of that . . . the groupie thing, I’m not so sure. And I don’t think there’s ever going to be a time when I don’t think about you.”
They’d spent so much time together that summer, even their mothers had commented on it. Natalie had heard them discussing the relationship between their offspring and wondering just what it meant.
“Chris goes out with several girls, and I know Natalie has been seeing Andy Simmons this summer, but Chris seems to be spending an awful lot of time with Natalie.” Emma had been sitting on her front porch with Maggie. “Not that it wouldn’t make me happy to see him with Natalie. She’s perfect.”
Maggie had laughed. “The girl is not perfect, but I’m pleased to see them together. I think they’re just friends. They go to the beach together and that sort of thing. But I don’t see them dating. Nat’s only seventeen and Chris is four years older.”
“A good age difference,” Emma had said, “but I agree, they seem to be more interested in just being friends.”
And for most of the summer, they had been. Natalie would never have admitted to Chris or to anyone else—not even her best friend—that he was the only guy who attracted her in that way, that the crush she had on him was killing her. She liked him so much, had so much fun in his company, was so happy in his company, that she wouldn’t risk ruining it with a confession that would have been humiliating because he would inevitably have told her he thought of her only as a friend.