Eyes wide with shock and alarm, I turned slowly to look back at my dad. “Condoms? These… are for me?” I whispered, wishing I could just disappear in a puff of smoke.

“Camilla, it’s okay,” he said encouragingly. “We aren’t here to make you feel ashamed or embarrassed—we just don’t want you to feel like you have to sneak around. We want you to be happy and—most of all—safe.”
I nodded, feeling like lava was coursing through my veins. “Thank you,” I muttered, because I knew he meant what he said. Then I grabbed the bag and sprinted back toward the stairs. I took them two at a time until I made it to my room, where I slammed the door.

“Oh my god,” I breathed, leaning against the shut door and closing my eyes. I had never felt so mortified in my life, but—if I really gave it some thought—I knew I shouldn’t have been surprised. My parents were incredibly practical, rational people. They knew I was going out on a date, and they knew that Eric was a year older than me, leaving for college. And in their rational, science minds, the condom move probably made total sense, even though it had nearly obliterated me with humiliation.

Besides, they were both scientists. Marine biology was their preferred field of study, but they both understood the basic principles of biology perfectly well. The life cycle was probably the most important principle, and I supposed it made sense that they didn’t want me participating in that cycle anytime soon.

So that all made sense on paper, but my face was still burning, and I knew it was going to take a while to forget the searing embarrassment of those moments with my dad.

I flopped onto the bed with a deep sigh and covered my eyes with my arm. I lay like that for a moment, then—upon consideration—I reached over and pulled out the box of condoms. My face burned hot while I did it, but I separated one along the perforation and slipped it into my purse.

Just…in case.

“Camilla! Are you ready to go?! We’re leaving for the cookout!” my mom called from downstairs. “Are you coming with us?!”

I hopped up, grabbed my purse, and hurried down the stairs. My parents were already outside, so I followed them, shutting the door behind me, and hopping into their Subaru.

The Provincetown community “Summer is Coming” cookout was the first big event of the very busy summer social calendar of our little town. The place exploded with tourists in the summer months, which was fun in its own way, but it made our cookout even more special, since it was really just for the year-round community.

I leaned back in my seat, looking out the window as we drove toward the Pilgrims’ First Landing Park, where the cookout was always held. It was the perfect day for the event—the sky overhead was clear and bright, brilliant blue. There were only wisps of clouds, and the sun shone bright. Last year it poured rain, but being New Englanders, everyone had gone through the motions, refusing to cancel the event. Which was funny in some ways, but not when I was stuck eating a wet hamburger and soggy macaroni salad while sheltering under a picnic table with Jonah.

But there was no threat of that this year.

I could see people walking toward the park as we drove. They were carrying beach chairs and umbrellas, as well as glass and plastic containers with their offerings for the potluck.

Jessup Fishing sponsored the event every year, so there was fresh lobster and scallops and haddock and clams for the main course. And everyone who came brought salads, corn on the cob, Boston baked beans, and desserts. It was fun, but it could get tense. There were a few old Provincetowners who had very fervently upheld their sides in the sweet vs. savory cornbread debate, and those battles tended to be waged at the cookout. Then there was the time three years ago when the Rotary Club communication broke down and seven women from the club all brought potato salad.

Jonah still said that was his favorite year ever. Not for the food—for the drama.

I smiled thinking of that and rolled down my window, letting the sharp, salty breeze flow through the car.

When my parents pulled into a spot at the beach, I looked out the window and my breath caught in my throat. My heart thudded, beating erratically. I was tempted to pinch myself. I just couldn’t believe that this was my life.

Eric was standing at the park’s entrance—and he was waiting for me.