I pushed my way out of the car and hurried over to the entrance of the park—and Eric.

He smiled as I strode over. “Hey, stranger. I was wondering when you were going to get here.”

This made my heart skip another beat. He was waiting for me.

A smile exploded across my face as I grabbed his arm and started pulling him into the park, where brightly colored banners hung, and the tables were covered with red, white, and blue plastic tablecloths. “Come on,” I said, “before my dad corners you.”

Eric laughed as I dragged him along. “That’s okay. I’d love to meet him. Parents always love me.”

“Yeah, well, that might be true, but I’m really not in the mood to share right now,” I said, not looking back to see if my parents were following.

He smiled at me. “Okay then. That’s fine with me.”

We walked past the picnic tables where members from the Rotary Club were accepting the donations people had brought and organizing them into categories, to ease the confusion of the buffet line. My mom and dad always brought the same thing—a store-bought pie—but they loved the side dish categories and would spend hours arguing about the various methods of classification.

If it has whipped cream, it’s not a salad! my mom would always complain. I don’t care what Alice Beesly calls that monstrosity. There’s no such thing as a candy bar salad! It belongs in the desserts!

But side dishes were the last thing I was thinking about as Eric and I headed down toward the beach, where there were bonfires burning in the sand.

It wasn’t cold, but we stood in front of one, looking into the flames. Growing increasingly aware of Eric’s closeness to me, I studied the flames closely, just for something to do.

“Camilla?” he said, and I looked over. “You look really pretty today.”

It felt as though my heart was melting like ice cream on a summer’s day. “Thank you,” I said quietly.

He leaned over and pressed a kiss to my lips, and—standing up on tiptoe so we were closer to the same height—I kissed him back.

Fireworks were going off in my brain, making it hard to form anything close to a coherent thought, but in the distant region that was still registering my surroundings, I heard a pair of feet shuffling through the sand toward us, then the sound of someone clearing their throat.

Meaningfully.

Pulling away from Eric, I looked over at Aidan Brown—a good friend of both my parents. He was an older man with a shock of gray hair, and he was smiling at me.

“Hello, Camilla,” he said casually.

My face flushed. “Hi, Aidan. How—” I cleared my throat, feeling extremely awkward. “How are you?”

“Hale and hearty,” he said with a wink. “Hale and hearty, Camilla. How are you?”

“Fine,” I said, trying not to squeak.

“I’m looking for your mom and dad,” he said, gazing around. “Are they here?”
I nodded and pointed up toward the picnic tables in the park. “Yeah, we came together. They should be around here somewhere.”

Aidan nodded. “Ah, I see. Well, I’ll keep looking for them, then.” He glanced at Eric with a curious look, then back at me. “You have a good time, dear.”

“Thanks,” I muttered as Aidan headed off to keep looking for my parents.

Eric chuckled, and when I turned back to him, he leaned in to kiss me again.

But I took a step back.

His brows drew down. “Something wrong?”

“Oh, no, it’s just a little…public here, isn’t it?” I said, glancing around at the milling crowds. The park was packed with people, which meant people were spilling down onto the beach. So this was maybe not the best place for making out. “Can’t we just enjoy the park for a while?” I asked.

“Sure,” he said, though I thought I saw a flash of something like disappointment in his eyes.

That was not what I wanted to see, and it made my stomach drop. But when Eric slung his arm around my shoulder, I felt instantly better.

“Sure thing,” he said, this time more easily. “We can do whatever you want, Camilla.”

I looked up at him, taking in his light brown hair, his green eyes, and the freckles across his face. I thought of how often I’d stared at him in the newsroom when he was absorbed with a newspaper task and I was sure he wasn’t looking. I thought of how long I’d thought about this moment—standing at a party with his arm around me—and I just couldn’t stop myself—I had to ask…