Ronnie reached for his hand. "I'm so sorry."
"Me, too." He blinked back the tears that still came when he thought of that day.
"You know it was an accident, right?"
"Yeah, I know. And my mom does, too. But even so, she blames herself for losing control of the car, just like I know there's a part of her that blames me, too." He shook his head. "Anyway, after that, she's always felt the need to control things. Including me. I know she's just trying to keep me safe, to keep bad things from happening, and I think part of me believes that, too. I mean, look what happened. My mom just completely lost it at the funeral, and I hated myself for doing that to her. I felt responsible. And I promised myself I would try to somehow make it up to her. Even though I knew that I couldn't."
As he spoke, he began to twist the macrame bracelet.
"What do the letters mean? IMTF?"
"In my thoughts forever. It was my sister's idea, as a way to remember him. She told me about it right after the funeral, but I barely heard her. I mean, it was just so awful to be in the church that day. With my mom screaming and my little brother in the casket, and my dad and sister crying... I swore that I'd never go to another funeral."
For once, Ronnie seemed at a loss for words. Will straightened up, knowing it was a lot to take in and wondering why he'd even told her. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you all that."
"It's okay," she said quickly, squeezing his hand. "I'm glad you did."
"It's not the perfect life you probably imagined, is it."
"I never assumed your life was perfect."
He said nothing, and Ronnie impulsively leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. "I wish you didn't have to go through all that."
He drew a long breath and resumed walking down the beach. "Anyway, it was important to my mom that I go to Vanderbilt. So that's where I'm going."
"I'm sure you'll have fun. I've heard it's a great school."
He laced his fingers through hers, thinking how soft they felt next to his callused skin. "Now it's your turn. What don't I know about you?"
"There's nothing like what you just told me," she said, shaking her head. "It doesn't even compare."
"It doesn't have to be important. It just has to explain who you are."
She glanced back at the house. "Well... I didn't talk to my dad for three years. Actually, I started talking to him only a couple of days ago. After he and my mom separated, I was... angry with him. I honestly never wanted to see him again, and the last thing I wanted was to spend the summer down here."
"How about now?" He noticed the moonlight shining in her eyes. "Are you glad you came?"
"Maybe," she answered.
He laughed and gave her a playful nudge. "What were you like when you were a kid?"
"Boring," she said. "All I did was play the piano."
"I'd like to hear you play."
"I don't play anymore," she said quickly, a stubborn edge to her voice.
"Ever?"
She shook her head, and though he knew there was more, she clearly didn't want to talk about it. Instead, he listened as she went on to describe her friends in New York and how she usually spent her weekends, smiling at her stories about Jonah. It felt so natural to spend time with her, so easy and true. He'd told her things he'd never discussed even with Ashley. He supposed he wanted her to know the real him, and somehow he trusted she'd know how to respond.
She wasn't like anyone he'd met before. He was sure he wanted never to let go of her hand; their fingers seemed to fit together in just the right way--effortlessly clasped, like perfect complements.
Aside from the house that was hosting the party, they were completely alone. The strains of music were soft and distant, and when he looked up, he caught the brief flash of a shooting star passing overhead. When he turned to Ronnie, he knew by her expression that she'd seen it as well.
"What did you wish for?" she asked, her voice a whisper. But he couldn't answer. Instead, he raised her hand and slipped his other arm around her back. He stared at her, knowing with certainty that he was falling in love. He pulled her close and kissed her beneath a blanket of stars, wondering how on earth he'd been lucky enough to find her.
21
Ronnie
Okay, she admitted that she could get used to living like this: lounging on the diving board in the backyard pool, an ice cold glass of sweet tea by her side, a fruit tray in the cabana, which had been served by the chef, along with real silverware and a fancy mint garnish.
Still, she couldn't imagine what it must have been like for Will to grow up in a world like this. Then again, since he'd never known anything different, he probably didn't notice it anymore. As she sunned herself on the diving board, she took in the sight of him standing on the roof of the cabana, getting ready to jump. He'd climbed it like a gymnast, and even from a distance, she could see the muscles flexing in his arms and stomach.
"Hey," he shouted. "Watch me do a flip."
"A flip? That's it? You climb all the way up there and you're only going to do one flip?"
"What's wrong with doing a flip?" he demanded.
"I'm just saying that anyone can do one flip," she taunted. "Even I could do one flip."
"I'd like to see that." He sounded skeptical.
"I don't want to get wet."
"But I invited you over here to swim!"
"This is how girls like me swim. It's also known as tanning."
He laughed. "Actually, it's probably a good idea you're getting some sun. I guess the sun doesn't shine in New York, huh?"
"Are you saying I'm pale?" She frowned.
"No," he said, shaking his head. "That's not the word I'd use. I think 'pasty' is a bit more accurate."
"Wow, what a charmer. It makes me wonder what I used to see in you."
"Used to?"
"Yes, and I must say that if you keep using words like pasty when it comes to describing me, I'm not seeing much of a future for us, either."
He seemed to evaluate her. "How about if I do two flips? Will you forgive me?"
"Only if you end the flips with a perfect dive. But if two flips and a big clumsy entry is all you can do, I'll pretend to be amazed, as long as you don't get me wet."
He raised an eyebrow before retreating a few steps and then taking one big step to launch himself in the air. He pulled himself into a tight tuck, spun twice, and went into the water arms first and body straight, almost without a ripple.
Now that, she thought, was impressive, if not completely surprising, given the graceful way he moved on the volleyball
court. When he surfaced at the edge of the diving board, treading water, she knew he was pleased with himself.
"That was okay," she said.
"Just okay?"
"I'd give it a four point six."
"Out of five?"
"Out of ten," she said.
"That was at least an eight!"
"Of course you think that. That's why I'm the judge."
"How do I appeal?" he said, reaching up to latch on to the edge of the board.
"You can't. It's official."
"What if I'm not happy?"
"Then maybe you'll think twice about using the word pasty."
He laughed and began to pull himself up. Ronnie gripped the diving board.
"Hey... stop... don't do that...," she warned.
"You mean... this?" he said, pulling down even harder.
"I told you I don't want to get wet!" she shrieked.
"And I want you to come swimming with me!" Without warning, he seized her arm and gave a tug. Squealing, she plunged into the water. As soon as she came up for air, he tried to kiss her, but she backed away.
"No!" she cried out, laughing, relishing the briskness of the water and the silky sensation of his skin against hers. "I don't forgive you!"
As she struggled playfully with him, she noticed Susan watching from the veranda. From the expression on her face, she was definitely not happy.
Later that afternoon, as they were heading back to the beach to check on the turtle nest, they stopped for ice cream. Ronnie walked beside Will, licking her fast-melting ice-cream cone, thinking how amazing it was that they'd kissed for the first time only yesterday. If last night had been almost perfect, then today had been even better. She loved how easily they shifted from serious to lighthearted and that he was as good at teasing her as he was at being teased.
Of course, he had pulled her into the pool, which was why she needed to time her reaction perfectly. It wasn't that hard since he didn't know it was coming, but as soon as he raised his own ice-cream cone to his lips, she gave the cone a sharp nudge, smearing ice cream on his face. Giggling, she skipped off around the corner... directly into the arms of Marcus.