Chapter Three

In retrospect, I should have known Chair Boy would turn out to be Ethan Barbanel.

That’s the way my life worked, after all. My sixteenth birthday party: a thunderstorm broke out after two traffic-filled hours driving to the beach. Prom three weeks ago: my latest fling, Austin—who’d ghosted me when I brought up trying out a relationship the month before—introduced me to his new, serious girlfriend.

If life could screw me over and be extra about it, it would.

Ethan Barbanel of the Chair stared at me with a kind of horrified delight. “Good to meet you,” he said. “I feel like we already know each other.”

Dad beamed.

“Hi.” I refused to crack a smile. This was impossible. The picture I’d drawn in my mind of Ethan Barbanel was a serious, studious guy with good taste in music and pretentious taste in literature. Not a laid-back bro who liked making out with strangers.

Dad cleared his throat. “I just took Jordan by Golden Doors to drop her things off.”

“Right.” Ethan gave me the same laser-focused attention he’d trained on my lips just a few hours ago. A delighted realization crept over his face. “Because you’re staying with us all summer.”

Fuck. I’d already been horrified by the concept of staying in the same house as Ethan Barbanel. To realize I’d be staying in the same house after making out with him was tantamount to being told I had to room with a succubus—sexy and soul-sucking at the same time.

Ethan looked fixed on the sexy possibilities. “How’d you like Golden Doors?”

It’s a house, I wanted to say bitingly, something to make it clear exactly what I thought about rich people with summer homes. But Dad looked so hopeful, wanting me to behave—wanting us all to get along. I tried not to sound too grudging. “It’s nice.”

Ethan’s lips curved. Golden Doors vaulted so much beyond nice, the understatement sounded comical. “Sorry I wasn’t there to meet you.”

“Yes, Ethan, didn’t you also come in on the ferry today?” Dad looked back and forth between the two of us. “You might have been on the same one!”

Ethan looked at me to see if I wanted to lob that back. My smile tightened. “Could have been.”

“I’m sure I would have noticed,” Ethan said. “Not too many people in all black in this heat.”

My smile calcified. He hadn’t been making fun of my outfit when he stuck his hand up my shirt.

“Jordan’s always had her own fashion taste,” Dad said blithely, as though I had single-handedly invented the dark academia trend.

We were, blissfully, interrupted by our server, who took our orders—which turned out to be nigh identical: Impossible burgers with sweet potato fries for Ethan and me, and with a side salad for Dad, who was supposed to be watching his cholesterol. I frowned. “You should have ordered the salmon. Just because it’s vegetarian doesn’t make the burger good for you.”

“We had salmon last night,” Ethan said, which made me want to punch him. Why was he the one hanging out with my father?

Though I guess I should be happy if he also watched Dad’s cholesterol.

Dad’s cell rang. When he saw the caller, his face brightened. “Sorry, I’ll be right back.” He picked up his phone and walked away. I watched him go, wondering why his face had lit up. A date? A crush?

When I looked back at my tablemate, Ethan Barbanel smiled at me. “So.”

I scowled and plopped my chin in my hands. I had liked him. He had made me giddy and made me laugh and made a kaleidoscope of butterflies dart about my stomach. “So.”

“You’re Tony’s daughter.”

“And you’re Ethan Barbanel.”

He leaned his chair back on two legs. It’d serve him right if he fell over backward. “I don’t think I would’ve made out with you if I knew who you were.”

Hard same. Still, memories of a few hours ago rose—how very happy he’d made me, how good he’d been at kissing. I shunted them away and gave him a sharp smile. “Why not?”

“I dunno. Seems a little…disrespectful?”

What? “To who? I hope you don’t mean because of my dad.”

He stifled a laugh. “No. I guess I meant—it’s different to hook up with a stranger than with someone you know.”

I couldn’t have agreed more. Strangers were devoid of complications. Ethan Barbanel came with enough complications to flatline me.

“You’re not what I expected,” he continued.

A full-body bristle swept through me. What did he expect? Someone smarter, someone like Dad? A kind, charming studious type, not a sarcastic mess? “Yeah, well, you’re not who I was expecting Dad’s assistant to be, either.”

He blew out a breath, his cheeks puffing as he did so. “Don’t I know it.”

“What do you mean?”

He looked away. One arm dangled off the back of his chair. “I’m used to being underestimated.”

“I’m not underestimating you. I’m not estimating you at all.”

“Aren’t you?” His gaze snapped back to mine. “You haven’t been—estimating—me for years?”

Shit. Caught. “Why would I?”

He smirked. “Because I’ve been doing it to you. I’ve heard about you for ages.”

“Doesn’t mean you know me.”

He leaned forward, the front legs of his chair landing firmly on the ground. His expression was a strange mix of satisfaction and curiosity. “I think I do.”

I scoffed. “You don’t know anything about me.”

He gave me a look suggesting how patently false my statement had been; how we knew each other rather intimately, as of a few hours ago. “I know you’re going to UMass next year and you’re undecided but leaning math. You loved to run until you hurt your knee. Cilantro tastes like soap to you, and you and your best friend have worked at Lulu’s Diner for three years. And—” He snapped his mouth shut.

Possibly because I was gaping with the same amount of horror as if he’d pulled his face off. I felt exposed. How could Dad tell Ethan so much about me? “And what?” I demanded.

“Nothing.”

“What?”

He opened his mouth, shut it, then raised his chin. “I know you have a crap dating record.”

I picked up my wrapped straw and lobbed it at him.

It glanced off his chest and lightly fell into his lap. He raised his brows as he placed it back on the table. “Ow.”

“And you have such a good one?” Even as I said it, I realized I had no idea what his dating record was. What did I know about Ethan? He was rich, outdoorsy, and a rising sophomore at the University of Chicago. Not much else. Apparently, Dad had gossiped about me but had protected Ethan’s secrets.

I really hated this boy.

Dad returned to the table, smiling brightly. “What have you two been chatting about?”

Just all the private details of my life you felt comfortable sharing, Dad.“Who was that?”

“Oh, it was, ah—it was no one.”

Please let it be a date. “It wasn’t no one.”

Dad cleared his throat, his nervous tic. He’d never been able to lie to me. “Uh, there’s some things at the house I’ve been meaning to get fixed. I was getting a quote from a contractor.”

Oh. “Dad, we don’t need a disposal or for the window to work. They’re not a big deal.”

“Ah, well, they’d be nice to fix.”

I wanted to protest more—to tell him they weren’t important enough to spend the money on—but I didn’t want to admit to money struggles in front of Ethan Barbanel. I’d bring it up later. “Okay.”

Our food arrived, and talk turned to what to do on the island during the summer—Dad pitched me unnecessarily hard on Nantucket, given I was already stuck here. “And there’s Gibson’s comet this year and the meteor shower,” Dad added enticingly. “Won’t that be fun? It’s a big deal to see them at the same time.”

Despite myself, I felt excitement flicker. Dad had instilled his love of astronomy in me. We’d spent my childhood going on late-night drives to open fields with little light pollution. Wrapped in coats and blankets, we’d stared up at the inky heavens, waiting for our eyes to adjust so we could spot shooting stars. “I suppose.”

“Ethan’s family is going to host a party at the end of the summer, when the comet first becomes visible,” Dad said.

I chanced a glance at Ethan. “Are they super into astronomy or something?”

“I don’t think you need to be super into astronomy to be excited about Gibson’s comet.” Ethan sounded amused. Which, fair. The comet wasn’t as famous as Halley’s, but Gibson’s was still familiar to most people, and with a thirty-eight-year orbital period, it showed up more frequently. It was the parent body of the Arborids, one of the summer’s brightest meteor showers, visible when Earth passed through the debris left from the comet’s tail. “And Gibson visited Nantucket.”

“Really?” I hadn’t known that—didn’t know anything about the origin of the comet’s name, actually. I didn’t even know who Gibson was. “When?”

“Early nineteen hundreds,” Ethan said promptly. He shot a grin at my dad. The ease and familiarity made my stomach clench with jealousy. “He’s in the book.”

My gaze pinged back and forth between the two of them. My dad’s first book had been about early maritime navigation and surveying; a good bulk of it had to do with Benjamin Franklin and his great-grandson Bache, who’d been the superintendent of the US Coastal Survey. I hadn’t read it, but I knew it alternated between chapters where my dad tried out historical methods and chapters about the people who pioneered them. His second book would be on the same themes, but focus on other people and centuries.

“Oh?” I tried not to let my dismay show at how well Ethan fit into my father’s world. “Why’s he in it?”

“Gibson worked for Captain Heck, who developed wire-drag surveying.” At my blank look, Ethan added, “Wire-dragging revolutionized hydrography. It was way faster than anything they’d used before.”

Literally nothing he said made any sense to me. I felt a surge of panic. Was this what I should be learning if I wanted a conversation with Dad to flow? I’d thought I could spend this summer working with him, but would he even want my help when I had no idea about all the topics and people in his research?

“Ethan’s helping me with Heck’s chapter.” Dad smiled. “He’s writing an insert on Gibson’s work, prior to his discovery of the comet and setting up his foundation.”

Dad’s proud tone hit me like a punch. When was the last time Dad had sounded proud of me? Worried, yes. Alarmed, sure. Happy, entertained, pleased—all good things. But proud?

I wasn’t sure I’d ever made my father proud.

“Cool,” I said softly, because I wasn’t sure what else to say. Why hadn’t I paid more attention to my father’s work? Now I didn’t speak the same language as him, and it made me feel slow and stupid and sad.

For the rest of the meal, I was silent, while Dad and Ethan talked about their research plans for the upcoming week. I toyed with the remnants of my meal, relieved when the server finally brought the check. We headed to the car, and Ethan and I both automatically went for the passenger’s seat. I jolted back. My heart beat hard, disproportional to the small event. I wrapped my arms around my stomach. Ethan thought he belonged up front. Ethan probably did belong up front. He’d have more to talk about with my dad than I did. And this car belonged to his family.

Ethan raised his hands and stepped back. “All yours.”

I nodded slowly. I almost wanted to cry.

It was past eight when we arrived at Golden Doors, but the sun was only just setting. Soft pinks and blues brushed the sky, and cotton-candy clouds drifted over the sea. I worried at the inside of my cheeks with my molars. This was it, then.

Dad parked the car, and all three of us climbed out. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Okay,” he said, dorkily as always, “you kids have fun, now!”

Ethan said goodbye and headed for the front door. I followed Dad to his bike, feeling like a little kid dropped off at kindergarten for the first time. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” I said, hating the nervous note in my voice.

“We’ll get dinner,” Dad promised.

“Okay.” I waited another moment, wanting to postpone the inevitable, wanting to suggest going to Dad’s rented studio and watching a movie, or going for another walk around the island—anything to avoid being left on my own at this giant house. But we’d already fought about this over and over. “See you later, then.”

Dad smiled awkwardly, clambering onto his bike. “Good night.”

“Night.”

Dad peddled into the darkness. With a sigh, I turned around—and found Ethan standing on the porch, staring at me.

“All right,” he said, coming down the steps. “What’s going on?”

Uh-oh.“What do you mean?”

“You liked me plenty on the boat, and now you don’t. What happened?”

“Nothing happened. I didn’t know who you were, is all.”

“What’s that have to do with anything?” he asked.

I looked past him, at the delicate blossoms flowering on bushes, inhaling the green, vibrant scent of summer carried by the warm breeze. “Like you said. I wouldn’t have made out with you if I knew who you are.”

“So is this chip on your shoulder because we made out? Or did you have an issue with me before?”

More than a chip, rather Chip and his siblings and Mrs. Potts herself. Yet I couldn’t bring myself to admit my epic jealousy. “I don’t have any issue with you. I’m sure you’re great.”

“Yeah, I am,” he said easily, leaning against the stair’s rail. “Look, I get it. You were looking for a hook-up you never had to see again. But I’m not going to make this weird.”

“You’re not?” I said warily.

“Course not. Especially since we’re staying down the hall from each other all summer. It could get sticky.” He tilted his head. “Though…it’s a pretty good setup.”

My eyes narrowed. “No.”

“I had to try.” He grinned, but then it fell away, and when he spoke he sounded irritatingly earnest. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything. I really wouldn’t have made a move if I knew you’d be living here.”

“Whatever.” I shoved my frizzy hair behind my ears. “It’s fine. I’ve got to go unpack.” I moved past him, up the stairs and across the porch to the front door.

“No, wait.” He caught my hand, easy with the touch, and for a moment I savored the warmth of his hand, the strength of his fingers. He felt so good, and my body remembered being even closer, so close I could feel every line of his body. “You should say hi to everyone.”

I pulled my hand away. I refused to let myself feel anything for Ethan Barbanel, no matter how good our chemistry. Besides, it was probably both impossible and bizarre to crush on someone I resented so much. “I’m tired,” I said, heading inside. I unlaced my boots, placing them carefully among all the Birkenstocks and glittery sandals and practical flip-flops. “I’ll meet them in the morning.”

I thought I could feel Ethan’s gaze on me as I climbed the grand staircase to the second story, but when I turned to look, he was already gone.

In my new room, I moved clothes from my suitcases to the empty dresser and hangers. I’d noticed a gazillion boutiques in town, and I itched to explore them, though they were probably out of my price range. Almost all of my outfits were thrifted, careful finds from the Garment District or Goodwill or Buffalo Exchange.

After showering away the day, I put on my coziest PJs and sent a few photos to my best friend, Grace Davidson: a cedar-shingled cottage covered in roses, a view of three houses sitting on the harbor, and a picture of Golden Doors itself. Wish you were here

Grace responded right away:

I wish I WAS there

Not only bc we could have a great photoshoot but bc I too would like to experience New England wealth

I googled the brand of soap in the bathroom and its $40 a bottle

!!!

I respect your commitment to googling strangers belongings

Is the soap worth it

Honestly yes

It’s a lavender chamomile blend

I feel like I’m in an apothecary

Like if I mixed three of these lotions together there’d be an explosion of purple smoke and I’d have a love spell on my hands

There’s like three dozen Glossier products in the bathroom I’m sharing

JFC

I asked Mom for a glossier gift card for my birthday and she blinked very slowly

I think that means the gift card will cover one half of one lip balm

What’s the goss at Camp Davidson

No goss

My mom is driving me crazy

How am I supposed to drive Brayden to camp AND Mackenzie to swimming lessons AND go to work I am JUST ONE PERSON

WAIT

DID YOU MEET ETHAN

AHHHHH I ALMOST FORGOT

Uh

My phone buzzed with a video call, and laughing, I picked up. Grace’s face filled the screen, her wild hair all over the place, like a goldendoodle had taken a nap on her head. “So?” she demanded.

“It’s kind of a mess.”

“I expected no less,” she said. “What happened?”

I filled her in, and she responded with the appropriate amount of gasps and exclamations. “See!” she crowed at the end. “This is why you should have found pics of him before. You were being too stubborn.”

“Fine, I admit in this one instance that would have been smart. Anyway, what are you and everyone up to?”

“Just the same old.” She launched into stories of work and our friends before her tone shifted subtly. “And there’s a new girl hostessing.”

I straightened. Anytime anyone said “new girl” in that tone, it only meant one thing. “What’s she like?”

“Uh, she’s kinda quiet, but when she talks she has this super funny sense of humor…”

“And is she brilliant?” I teased, because Grace only went for people whose brains outshone the rest of ours.

“Maybe,” Grace said, laughing slightly. “She wants to study robotics.”

“Of course she does.”

We killed the next two hours talking, then watched an episode of our favorite ridiculous reality dating show before falling asleep. “Good night, darlink,” she said, yawning as the credits rolled. “Try not to cry too hard about being trapped in paradise for the summer.”

“I’ll only cry because I miss you,” I promised. “Love you.”

“Love you more,” she said, and we signed off. I burrowed deep into my new, borrowed bed and fell asleep.

Hours later, I woke in pitch black.

I checked my phone: 2:38 a.m. Definitely not time to be awake, but I’d had trouble sleeping for years. I tried breathing deeply, tried counting sheep, tried counting backward from one thousand in Spanish. Nothing worked. In fact, I felt like I’d taken a shot of adrenaline. Eventually I caved and looked at my phone, but nothing on all the interwebs intrigued me.

By 3:40, irritated and exhausted, I got out of bed, figuring a change of scene might at least distract me. I wandered through the ancient halls of Golden Doors. Moonlight provided the only illumination, sliding in through the windows and across the floors. This house was surely haunted; how many people had lived and loved and died here? I kept wandering, no clear destination in mind. The moon kept me company through every window, half full, gleaming, bloated.

I climbed a steep, narrow staircase, my hand steadying me against the wall. At the top stood a heavy door, and I pushed it open. Cold night air rushed at me, and I looked out at a spacious deck jutting out amid the pitched gray roofs of the rest of the house, enclosed by a white fence.

Ahh.The widow’s walk.

I stepped outside. The door closed behind me, and I grabbed it, struck by an instant’s certainty it had locked, but it opened easily. With a deep exhale, I looked out over the rolling lawns and wooded gardens. The dark silhouette of a gazebo stood out in the distance, followed by the dunes and the crashing sea. The view was overwhelming, almost too beautiful, the kind of beauty that slipped inside and twisted and choked you, leaving no room for anything else.

I leaned my head back and breathed.

There were the stars, bright and glittering. The June sky, which my father had taught me to know and love, the constellations he’d painstakingly pointed out to pint-size me, all so much brighter here than near the city. I couldn’t wait to watch the Arborids together at the end of July. Though—Dad had been watching the Arborids with Ethan for the past three summers, hadn’t he? I shivered involuntarily. Ethan, my father’s perfect replacement child.

Breathe.

There, the tilted summer dipper; there, past Polaris, the queen Cassiopeia, chained to her throne by a vengeful god for taking pride in her beauty. There, the Arbor, the tree of life from which it looked like the Arborids meteor shower originated each summer. And there, the Summer Triangle. The brightest star, Deneb, was two hundred thousand times brighter than our sun. The other two stars, according to Chinese folklore, were lovers separated by the Milky Way.

I breathed out and lowered my head.

And jolted. In a wing of the house curved toward me, a figure stood in a glowing window. I swallowed a scream, then peered at the figure more closely—easy to see, given the illumination of his window, the only lit window in the entire house. Ethan Barbanel.

He lifted a hand, but I ignored it and retreated quickly inside.