Chapters (58)
- Cover
- Praise for Abbi Waxman and her novels
- Berkley Titles by Abbi Waxman
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- Summer
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- Fall
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- EPILOGUE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- Readers Guide
- Questions for Discussion
- About the Author
- What’s next onyour reading list?
“Yes,” said Bob, getting to his feet. “Well, I’ll see you at home. There’s a hoop over the garage door, if you feel energetic.”
“Always,” Laura said, and smiled. “Besides, an East Coast versus West Coast thing might be fun.” She coughed and added, “For me, anyway.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I see how it is. Fine. See you later.”
She nodded and watched him walk out of the park. She told herself she was studying his gait, and that might even have been part of it.
SIXTEEN
When Laura walked through the front door later that day, Polly was coming down the stairs in a bikini.
Laura raised her eyebrows and made a wild guess. “You’re going swimming?” She failed to keep the surprise out of her voice, and Polly frowned at her.
“Listen here, Sporty Sporterson, running every morning doesn’t make you the only athlete in the house.”
Laura felt bad. “I’m sorry, you’re completely right. Can I join you?”
Her pique immediately forgotten, Polly nodded. “Yes, of course, but I’m really going to float about like a jellyfish. No laps or anything, I just got home from work.” She frowned. “Wait, do you even have a swimsuit?”
Laura had already turned to go back into her room, but she stopped and looked stricken. “No! You told me there was a pool and everything, I should have gotten one at Target.” She frowned at herself. “Dammit! I love swimming.”
Polly laughed. “Don’t cry, you can borrow one of mine,” she said, going back upstairs. “I’ve got loads. Come on.”
Laura looked dubiously at her figure as she headed up the stairs. “I’m not sure we’re the same size . . .” But she followed anyway, curious to visit Polly’s room. She was also interested in seeing the rest of Polly’s swimsuit collection, because the one she was wearing was an adorable gingham 1950s two-piece with a kicky little belt made of plastic hoops. Laura had always wanted to be the kind of girl who could carry off vintage style, who could wear hats and interesting shoes, but she wasn’t. She’d gotten used to it, but seeing Polly—and Nina, who also rolled her own style—was reminding her how much fun clothing could be.