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After a brunch that would rival New York’s best restaurants, we walk toward the stores, passing an occasional ferry or boat on the right.
“I’ve been up this way dozens of times and never knew this town was here,” I comment.
Ada walks beside me in a pair of white shorts and a navy tank top with twisted straps. Her hair is pulled back in a low pony. She looks . . .
She’s so beautiful it’s almost unreal.
I’d take her hand if I were certain she’d let me. I don’t usually suffer from a lack of confidence, but there’s no denying Ada has thrown me off my game from the start.
“We’d come on a weekend for lunch or dinner or just to walk around. You hear about the bigger lakes, Seneca and Cayuga, but Skaneateles Lake has a lot going for it too. Kristina, my middle sister, always complained about coming. Said it was boring.”
“And what about your youngest sister?”
We slow down as we approach the first set of stores.
“Jenna? She was too young to have much of an opinion on the matter. She’s only nineteen now, but you’d never know it.” Ada changes her tone. “‘Ada-berry, will you please get me an iced tea? Extra ice cubes.’ She’s truly the baby of the family.”
I shake my head. “I can’t imagine, a ten-year difference. . . Ada-berry?”
“Don’t you dare start using that. And yeah, ten years. Jenna was a bit of an ‘oops’ child.”
“We have that in common,” I mutter before thinking better of it. “Sorry.” The last thing I want to do is kill the mood.
Ada looks away from the store she’d been looking at, which she clearly wants to check out. Her eyes land on mine, and she holds my gaze for a moment before saying forcefully, “Come on.”
Before I can object, she takes my hand and tugs me along. I can tell she’s done it organically, without realizing it, but as we walk past the lakefront ice cream shop down to the water’s edge, Ada suddenly becomes aware that our hands are still linked.
“I didn’t mean to . . .”
She tries to pull her hand away, but I don’t let her.
Last night, we sat on the same bed but only touched once, at the end of the night, when I kissed her before leaving. I wanted more but had to remind myself it was my bright idea to take things slow. But she took my hand, and I’m not letting go.
She steers us toward a bench not far from a big white gazebo, where three little kids are chasing each other in circles.
We’re still holding hands as we sit down.
I don’t ever want to let go.
“I don’t want you to apologize for bringing up your past,” she says finally.
When I start to argue with her, she squeezes my hand.
“You do it every time something about your childhood comes up, as if I can’t handle your hard truths.”
“We’re just getting to know each other,” I say with a shrug, feeling beyond self-conscious. “I’m sure you’re not dying to hear about the time I overheard my nanny talking to a friend about how my parents decided I was way more work than they bargained for . . . the reason I have no siblings.”
“Oh, Hayden, that’s awful. I’m so sorry.” She pauses. “But didn’t you say you wanted to know the real me? Beyond my favorite ice cream flavor? I want to do the same.”
“Mint chocolate chip.”
A horn from the approaching ferry cuts off whatever she was going to say. When it stops, I look up, the sky blue but dotted with clouds. A perfect summer day.
Made even more so by the woman beside me.
“I have nothing to complain about,” I say. “I have friends who have been discriminated against or targeted because of who they are or what they believe. Friends who were raped.Theyhave legitimate complaints. A wealthy white guy who grew up bouncing between his houses in Connecticut, New York, and Switzerland? Not so much.”
People start to pile off the ferry.
