The Cousins(10)

Time for me to talk again. “Sorry I don’t splash my face all over social media like a mindless lemming desperate for attention.”

“Oh.” Aubrey nods. “Okay, then. Hi, Jonah.” She looks back at Milly, whose eyes keep wandering to the ocean like she’s weighing the pros and cons of pushing me overboard. “You don’t really look like a Story.”

“I look like my mother,” I tell her.

Aubrey sighs and brushes a strand of windswept pale hair out of one eye. “Me too.” Then she takes a deep breath and steadies herself, like she’s about to dive into a frigid pool. “Come on. Let’s go downstairs and sit for a while. Might as well get to know one another.”



* * *



—

Half an hour later, Milly’s had it. I don’t know her well enough to be sure, but I’d bet everything I have that she’s taken an instant, profound dislike to me.

Mission accomplished, I guess.

“I’m getting a drink,” she says, rising from our window booth on the first floor. “Aubrey, do you want anything? Or to come with?”



I expect Aubrey to take off too, but she’s distracted. Every once in a while—like right now—her entire face droops as she stares intently at her phone. She’s looking for something, and she keeps getting disappointed. “No thanks,” she murmurs. Milly heads for the stairs, and silence descends as Aubrey swipes methodically at her phone. Mine buzzes in my pocket, and I dig it out to a text from a contact I’ve saved as JT.

How’s everything going?

Every muscle in my body tenses as I reply, Fine.

That’s all you have to say?

I could say fuck you, I think. But all I type back is Yep. Gotta go.

I ignore the buzz of a new text and stuff the phone back into my pocket as Aubrey lifts both hands to tug on her ponytail, pulling it tighter. “Sorry about Genius Camp,” she says.

“What?”

She tilts her head. “That’s what Milly and I call that science camp you wanted to go to. Do you think you’ll get another chance? Like next summer, maybe? Or is that too late?”

“Too late,” I say. “The whole point was to enhance the college application process.” Without Milly here, I can’t inject as much disdain into my words as I want to. Being sarcastic to Aubrey feels like kicking a puppy.

“That’s too bad. I wasn’t sure you’d come, to be honest. You seemed pretty determined not to.”

“Turns out I didn’t have a choice.”

“I guess none of us did,” Aubrey says. She crosses a leg over one knee and jiggles her foot, staring out the window at the darkening sky. It’s thirty-five miles from Hyannis to Gull Cove Island, and it looks like we’re headed for stormier weather. “What’s your dad like? Uncle Anders.” She says the name like he’s a movie character. “I think I last saw you guys when I was five? I can’t remember him at all.”



“He’s—intense.”

Aubrey’s blue eyes take on a faraway expression. “My dad talks about yours the least of anyone. Like, he probably has the most in common with Aunt Allison, and he seems to feel sort of protective about Uncle Archer, but your dad? He barely mentions him. I don’t know why.”

I swallow and lick my lips. I’m on unsteady ground, and not sure how much to say. “My dad…he was always kind of the odd man out, you know? I think he felt that way, at least.”

“Are you guys close?”

To that asshole? No way. I swallow the truth and try for a nonchalant shrug. “Ish. You know how it is.”

“I do. Especially lately.” Rain starts spattering against the window next to us, and Aubrey cups her hand against it to peer outside. “Do you think she’ll meet us at the dock?”

“Milly?” I ask. “What, you think she found better company till then?” Here’s hoping.

“No,” Aubrey says, laughing a little. “Gran.”

The laugh catches me off guard. Aubrey and I are getting comfortable with one another, and that’s not good. In the words of every reality contestant ever: I’m not here to make friends. “Yeah, right,” I snort. “She never even bothered to send a follow-up letter.”

Aubrey’s face clouds. “You too? I wrote her six times and heard nothing.”



“I wrote zero times. Same result.”

“It’s so cold.” Aubrey shivers a little, but I know she’s not talking about the temperature. “I don’t understand. It’s bad enough that the first time she ever contacted us, she made a job offer. Like we’re hired help instead of family. But then she can’t even be bothered to stay in touch? What’s the point of all this, if she’s not interested in getting to know us?”

“Cheap labor.” I mean it as a joke, but Aubrey’s mouth just turns down further. I’m about to make an excuse to leave when I catch a flash of red on the stairs: Milly’s back. That should get me moving even faster, but for some reason I stay put.

“Here you go, cousins.” Milly is balancing four plastic cups: one full of clear liquid and garnished with a lime wedge, and three that are empty except for ice. She settles next to Aubrey and starts evening out the cups, pouring the full one into the other three until it’s empty. When she’s finished, she hands one cup to me and one to Aubrey. “Cheers to—I don’t know. Finally meeting the mysterious Mildred, I guess.” We all clink cups, and Aubrey takes a long swig of hers.