Broken Hearts, Fences, and Other Things to Mend by Katie Finn

Author:Katie Finn [Finn, Katie]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
ISBN: 978-1-250-06057-0
Publisher: Feiwel & Friends
Published: 2014-03-13T16:00:00+00:00

“I hope you like this place!” Josh said as we were led across the patio to a prime table, one with perfect views of the water and of the pink-and-orange sunset that was just beginning.

I gave him an enthusiastic smile back, but I couldn’t help but feel a little thrown. It was Friday night, and we were at the Crabby Lobster, which apparently had stayed in business for the last five years. It was the place that my dad had brought me for dinner with the Bridges right after I’d arrived in the Hamptons. It was, in fact, the only place Josh and I had ever had a meal together, since he’d been along with his mother and sister that night. It didn’t look like the décor had changed much, if at all; it still had a beach-shack charm to it. The tables outside were wooden, with red-painted benches, like picnic tables, and nautical bric-a-brac decorated the restaurant inside. As we took our seats across from each other and the hostess handed us our menus and hustled away, I found myself looking closely at Josh. Why had he picked it? Did he have any recollection of the previous time we’d eaten here?

“So you’ve been here before?” I asked in what I hoped was a casual tone.

“It came highly recommended,” he said, looking slightly worried, like I was questioning his restaurant taste. “I’ve heard it’s really good.”

I nodded as I looked down at my menu, which seemed to feature mostly seafood in different fried, steamed, and breaded forms. So Josh didn’t remember. It probably wasn’t so strange that he couldn’t recall coming here, once, five years ago. I remembered it because it was my introduction to Karen and Hallie, and because of everything that came later. But if that hadn’t been the case, I probably wouldn’t have remembered either. I certainly couldn’t name every single restaurant I went to when I was eleven.

“Great,” I said with another smile.

“I mean, Hallie’s here all the time,” he continued, and I saw that he still looked worried. “So she must really love it.”

At the mention of his sister’s name, my hands tightened around the menu. “Oh,” I said. I looked down at it, noting with surprise just how many forms of chowder one could order, then, trying to sound breezy, added, “Did she say anything about me?”

Hallie and I had been exchanging texts, trying to make a plan to get coffee, and so it seemed like everything was fine between us—that she still hadn’t found the receipt—but I was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. When Josh had come to pick me up—I’d been waiting outside, early, dressed and ready to go, to try and make up for the lack of all these things the last time—I’d searched his face for clues that his sister had said something about me, about who I really was. But I hadn’t been able to see anything amiss. And if she had said anything, I doubted

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