On the other side of the open space was a den of some sort that was lowered into the ground, framed with plush couches and a fireplace. The windows there were even larger, and they revealed a pool and barbecue area right outside. And more green hills.

Some people lived like this.

“Camden?” August called, walking farther in. “I’m surprised he wasn’t waggin’ his tail at the door when we came in.”

I copied his move and kicked off my shoes before trailing into the kitchen.

There was a big Dutch oven on the stove, a name I knew only because I’d bought one for Nonna for her birthday once.

“Eh, the boy will show up,” August said. “I gotta go back out and get the groceries for tonight. You get comfortable on the patio.” He nodded to the fridge next to the other entrance. “Grab yourself a beer or a Coke—or there’s coffee on the counter.”

“You need any help?” I asked. I didn’t know how many were showing up, but I was guessing most of the participants.

“No, that’s fine.” He gave my shoulder a quick squeeze as he passed me. “If you drove all the way from New York, you must be tired.”

I was, and I also liked that firm grip of his.

Then it was just me.

I couldn’t stop looking around the kitchen. How many times had I opened a video to this view? Now I was here. In their kitchen.

The walls in the kitchen area were filled with shelved pots, pans, old tins, and pictures. Squeaky-clean countertops along the large bay window with practically nothing on them, except for a coffee machine—the fancy kind that gave you espresso and shit—and what looked like a deep fryer. Then those cluttered walls. But it fit, somehow.

I ghosted my hand over the countertop on the island as I slowly made my way to the fridge.

The country music went silent.

I couldn’t help but chuckle. I was really here.

“Madonn’,” I muttered, opening the fridge. August and Camden would probably not like the sight of my fridge at home. Theirs was fully stocked with a sampling of virtually everything you could find at the store. I had beer, Styrofoam containers, and condiments in mine.

“Hi.”

I whipped my head to the left and spotted Camden, and I nearly swallowed my tongue. He stood there, hesitating by the den, and grinned shyly. Dressed in only a pair of sweatpants drawn up to his knees.

Could he even buy his own beer? No, really. His entire appearance was a complete mindfuck. Boyish looks combined with the average height of a middle schooler made me wanna ask if he wanted a juice box. But the young man also had ink covering his calves, and he had piercings in both nipples and his right eyebrow.