The truth was, she hadn’t slept with anyone since Sanjay and she wasn’t sure she was ready to start that night. Even if sex with someone else might be the only way she could move on.

She followed Connor into the kitchen, where he had dinner on the stove. It was another airy room, with windows overlooking the garden, bead-board cabinets, and soapstone countertops with marble, mosaic tile backsplash.

“Shall I open this? I also have a great Cab Franc, or a Riesling. Whatever you want,” he said.

“You pick,” she said self-consciously.

The kitchen smelled like sautéed onions and peppers. A large wooden salad bowl brimmed with romaine. Connor uncorked the rosé and poured two glasses.

“To the summer ahead,” he said, touching his glass to hers. “And to new friends.”

“To new friends.” She sipped the wine, barely tasting it and resisting the urge to gulp it down. It felt strange to be on a date with someone other than Sanjay. No, don’t think about him now.

“So, here’s the deal: Everything is prepped. All I need to do is boil water when you’re hungry. Do you want a tour of the house first?”

“Sure,” she said.

He led her through the rest of the first floor, which had two more sitting rooms in addition to the living room she’d seen when she walked in. The rooms all had the same pale, neutral palette—a chic, soothing simplicity. Through the open windows she smelled the briny air coming off the bay and a hint of lavender from the garden.

The red birch stairs leading to the second floor had a blue and white runner down the center and a curved banister.

“Here’s the guest room,” he said, opening a door to a room three times the size of her space at Aunt Celeste’s. “And the bathroom . . .”

Her nerves ticked up again. Of course, this whole tour was leading to one place: the master bedroom. Alvie hadn’t needed to warn her; she had no intention of sleeping with Connor on the first date. Maybe not ever.

The minimalist room, all white bead-board walls with a wrought-iron four-poster bed punctuated by an antique trunk at the foot, had clearly been crafted around the spectacular view: French doors led to a balcony and the beach across the street. The light played off the water in a way that seemed to channel it directly into the house.

“Wow,” she said. “I don’t think I’d be able to get any sleep here because I’d just be staring out the window all night.”

“It’s even better outside,” he said, waving her forward. She followed him onto the balcony, but by the time she was facing the view, he stood so close to her that the water was no longer the thing taking her breath away.