PROLOGUE
ELEVEN YEARS AGO
It was unseasonably warm for June . . . The heat didn’t usually descend until the Fourth of July, but Ainsley was using the cheap fans her new sister-in-law had gotten for the bridesmaids in earnest. The summer insects sang and the birds chirped and hopped in the stand of trees that separated them from the main road. The shade was all taken, but with her fair skin, she needed to get out of the sun or she’d burn. She never had figured out a way to tan in her sixteen years—she went from paper white to lobster red within minutes. She looked around and spotted Kyle Durand alone under an ancient maple tree at the edge of the church property. He drove her and Daniel, her best friend, home from school most days, after they got out of orchestra rehearsals.
She strolled over to him, cake in hand, trying to be casual. Kyle was leaving for college in a few days; he’d be gone a long time. Even on summer break, she already missed seeing him every day. She was fairly sure he never thought about her. Of course, she’d probably see him on breaks, but he’d want to see his family, too. He’d become such a fixture in her life, and she didn’t know when that had happened. He was just a guy—a handsome, older guy—who took her home from school sometimes. But now he was leaving. All the way to California.
“Trade you,” she said, picking her way through the grass carefully, since she’d already kicked off her pinching, shiny high-heeled shoes.
“What?”
“I’ll trade you a spot in the shade for my piece of cake. It’s the last chocolate one . . .”
“I like vanilla cake,” he replied with a straight face. “Didn’t you put on sunscreen?”
“No, Kyle Durand, I didn’t. I didn’t put on sunscreen before I was part of an indoor wedding . . .” Kyle Ridiculous Durand.
“An indoor wedding with an outdoor component,” he pointed out, as he unbuttoned his dress shirt sleeves and proceeded to roll up them up.
How did he get arms like that when all she ever saw him do was run? He must do push-ups, too, probably shirtless.
“Here,” he said, scooting over, half out of the dappled shade. “We can share.”
She sat down gratefully; a breeze had kicked up, but it wasn’t cooling her enough. “I only brought one fork . . . you take it.”
“I’ll go get my own fork in a minute. Just eat your half first.”
“So you’re just going to watch me eat? That’s not weird or anything . . .”
“Who says I’m looking at you?” Kyle said, glancing at the crowd of their family and friends. “At least the wedding wasn’t too long.”
That’s an odd thing to say.
“I’ve always thought the true test of a wedding shouldn’t be how long it was, but how happy the people are afterward. I mean, it’s kind of silly, isn’t it? How we pour all this time and energy and money into the first day of a marriage, when really, what matters is the day-to-day for the rest of their lives.” She took a big stab at the cake and shoved it into her mouth to keep herself from talking; she was probably embarrassing herself with her brain dump, philosophizing about marriage with Kyle Amazing Durand . . . Her mouth and her brain both skipped like a scratched record when Kyle’s thumb gently swiped the corner of her mouth.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “You had a . . . you had frosting on your face.”
“Oh. Okay.” She watched wide-eyed as he stuck his thumb in his mouth and sucked off the frosting. The frosting that had been near her mouth was now in Kyle’s mouth. That was far too much mouth-thinking for two people who were just friends. It was also the hottest thing she’d ever seen. She sat frozen, her face beet red, sweating through her loaner lavender bridesmaid dress.
She passed the cake to him clumsily. “Here, you can have the rest. I should . . . I should go see if . . . I think someone said something about group pictures—”
“Ainsley?”
“Yes?” She was already up off the grass, dusting off her backside. She probably shouldn’t have sat down in the first place . . .
Kyle was watching her like he was waiting for her to answer a question he hadn’t asked. Then suddenly, his expression shuttered. “Nothing. I was just . . . never mind. If I don’t see you before I go, have a good fall.”
“Yes, you too. We’ll see you at Thanksgiving, I’m sure.”
“Yeah, planning on it.”
“Okay then.” Her mother was indeed calling her over for pictures; a lucky coincidence, since she’d been lying earlier. When she turned to look over her shoulder, he was staring after her, the cake untouched.
CHAPTER ONE
AINSLEY SIGHED AS HER first graders lined up for library; Cooper Durand was still in the Naughty Chair. She didn’t refer to it that way in front of her students, of course. She called it the Think It Over Chair. A place for them to take a deep breath, regain their self-control in a safe area. But that didn’t change its stripes: it was a Naughty Chair. And Cooper certainly belonged there: she’d caught him peeing on a tree at recess instead of getting the pass to go inside. She’d happened to see him out her window today as she was eating lunch alone in her room, and she nearly choked on her chicken salad sandwich. She’d asked Mrs. Talbot, the recess lady, to watch out for him, but recess was a pretty hectic place as it was, and Mrs. Talbot’s eyesight wasn’t what it used to be. This was the only instance she knew about, but there could’ve been more. A lot more. The kids got a morning and afternoon recess . . . She sighed again and reached a hand toward him.
“Cooper, come lead the line with me, please.” The boy bounded up and trotted over to the head of the group. She held his hand as the class meandered down the hall, looking less like a line and more like a dodecahedron. “What did you do that you shouldn’t have done?”
“Pee on the tree when you were looking.”
“So close,” she said, schooling her face into a stern but kind look. “Try again.”
“Pee on the tree.”
“Better. And what did you not do that you should’ve done?”
“Get the pass from Mrs. Talbot.” He looked up at her, genuinely frustrated. “But Kacie and Fran always get it first and they take too long! Recess is over by the time they come back.”
“Well, they’re not supposed to go together anyway, so I’ll talk to Mrs. Talbot, okay?” She squeezed his hand, and he gave her a semi-toothless grin.
“Thanks, Miss Buchanan.” He paused. “Don’t worry, I peed on a different one every day, so one wouldn’t grow taller. Uncle Kyle says urine is a good fertilizer.”
“Yes, well . . . that’s a relief. Also, maybe don’t listen to everything Uncle Kyle says.”
“Why not?” He was whispering because they’d reached the closed library doors.
“Because little boys don’t need to know the agricultural applications for urine,” she whispered back, turning to smile at the librarian, CJ. “See you later, Buchanan’s Bunch.” She had sixty-two math manipulatives calling her that weren’t going to cut out and laminate themselves. She’d have a talk with Uncle Kyle later . . . if she could get him to talk to her at all. Whatever. Lots of other fish in the sea. Less grunty, broody fish. Well, some other fish in the sea. More like a lake, really. And at that moment, it was feeling downright puddle-ish. She’d been on four dates with Todd Glazer . . . all of which were boring. When he’d called for a fifth, she’d let him down gently.