The Last Song (26 page)

As for Will, he was just the kind of guy her mom wanted Ronnie to date: polite, respectful, intelligent, and best of all,
sans tattoos… It might have been nice to have her mom there, if only to assure her that her daughter hadn’t gone completely
off the deep end. On the other hand, her mom probably would have been so excited about the whole thing that she would have
either tried to adopt Will on the spot or gushed to Ronnie a million times after he was gone about what a nice young man he
was, which only would have made Ronnie want to end the whole thing before her mom got too carried away. Her dad would do none
of those things—he seemed to trust Ronnie’s judgment and was content to let her make her own decisions without inserting his
own opinions.

Which was really weird, considering he was only just starting to get to know her again, and also kind of sad at the same time,
because she was beginning to think she’d made a big mistake by avoiding him for the past three years. It might have been nice
to talk to him when her mom was driving her crazy.

All in all, she was glad she’d invited Will over. It certainly was easier for him to meet her dad than it had been for Ronnie
to meet Susan. The woman scared the living daylights out of her. Well, maybe that was an exaggeration, but she was definitely
intimidated. The woman had made it abundantly clear that she either didn’t like Ronnie or didn’t like the fact that her son
liked Ronnie.

Normally, she wouldn’t have cared what someone’s parent thought of her, and she wouldn’t have given a second thought to the
way she’d been dressed. She was who she was, after all… This was the first time in what seemed like forever that she’d felt
she didn’t measure up, and it had bothered her far more than she’d thought it would.

As darkness fell and the game of liar’s poker began to wind down, she sensed Will watching her. She returned his gaze with
a smile.

“I’m almost out,” he announced, fingering his pile of change.

“I know. I am, too.”

He glanced toward the window. “Do you think it would be okay if we went for a walk?”

This time, she knew with certainty that he was asking because he wanted to spend some time alone with her—because he cared
about her, even if he was unsure whether she felt the same way.

She met his eyes directly. “I’d love to go for a walk.”

W
ill

T
he beach stretched for miles, separated from Wilmington by the bridge over the Intracoastal Waterway. It had changed, of course,
since Will was a kid—growing more congested in the summers, small bungalows like the one where Ronnie was living replaced
by imposing oceanfront mansions—but he still loved the ocean at night. When he was young, he used to ride his bike over to
the beach, in the hope of seeing something interesting, and he was almost never disappointed. He’d seen large sharks washed
up on the beach, sand castles so intricate they could have won any national competition, and once he’d even spotted a whale,
not fifty yards from shore, rolling in the water just beyond the surf.

Tonight, the place was deserted, and as he and Ronnie strolled barefoot through the breaking surf, he was struck by the thought
that this was the girl with whom he’d like to face the future.

He knew he was too young for such thoughts and was under no illusion that he was even considering marriage, but somehow he
felt that if he met Ronnie ten years from now, she might be the one. He knew Scott wouldn’t understand the concept—Scott seemed
unable to imagine a future that stretched past the upcoming weekend—but then Scott wasn’t so different from most of his peers.
It was as if their minds ran on separate tracks: He wasn’t into one-night stands, he wasn’t into scoring to see if he could,
he wasn’t into acting just charming enough to get what he wanted before cutting someone loose in favor of someone new and
attractive. He just wasn’t like that. He would never be like that. When he met a girl, the first question he asked himself
wasn’t whether she was good for a few dates; it was whether she was the kind of girl he could imagine spending time with over
the long haul.

He supposed that had partly to do with his parents. They’d been married for thirty years, started out struggling as many couples
did, and over the years had built the business and raised a family. Through it all, they had loved each other well, celebrating
their successes and supporting each other during tragedy. Neither of them was perfect, but he’d grown up certain that they
were a team, and eventually, he’d absorbed that lesson.

It was easy to think that he’d spent two years with Ashley because she was beautiful and rich, and though he’d be lying if
he said that her beauty was irrelevant, it was less important than the things he thought he saw in her. She’d listened to
him just as he’d listened to her, he’d believed he could tell her anything, and vice versa. But over time, he’d felt increasingly
disappointed in her, especially when she’d tearfully admitted that she’d made out at a party with some guy from the local
college. Things were never the same after that. Not because he worried that she’d do something like that again—everyone made
mistakes, and it had only been a kiss—but somehow the incident helped crystallize his thoughts about what he wanted from the
people he was closest to. He began to notice the way she treated other people, and he wasn’t sure he liked what he saw. Her
ceaseless gossiping—once something he considered harmless—began to annoy him, as did the long waits she made him endure while
she readied herself to go out at night. He felt bad about eventually breaking up with her but consoled himself with the fact
that he’d only been fifteen when he first started dating her, and she was the first girlfriend he’d ever had. In the end,
he felt he had no other choice. He knew who he was and what was important to him, and he didn’t see any of that reflected
in Ashley. He figured it was better just to end the relationship before things got any harder.

His sister, Megan, was like him that way. Beautiful and smart, she’d intimidated most of the boys she’d ever dated. For a
long time, she had flitted from one guy to the next, but not out of vanity or flightiness. When he’d asked why she seemed
unable to settle down, her answer had been straightforward: “There are guys who grow up thinking they’ll settle down some
distant time in the future, and there are guys who are ready for marriage as soon as they meet the right person. The former
bore me, mainly because they’re pathetic; and the latter, quite frankly, are hard to find. But it’s the serious ones I’m interested
in, and it takes time to find a guy like that whom I’m equally interested in. I mean, if the relationship can’t survive the
long term, why on earth would it be worth my time and energy for the short term?”

Megan. He smiled, thinking about her. She lived her life by her own rules. She had driven Mom crazy during the last six years
with her attitude, of course, since she’d quickly eliminated pretty much every guy in town who hailed from the kind of family
of which his mother approved. But he had to admit, he thought Megan had gotten it right, and thankfully, she’d been able to
meet a guy in New York who satisfied all her criteria.

In a strange way, Ronnie reminded him of Megan. She was an oddball, a freethinker, and stubbornly independent, too. On the
surface, she was unlike anyone he could ever imagine finding attractive, but… her dad was great, her brother was a hoot, and
she was just about as smart and caring as anyone he’d ever met. Who else would camp out all night to protect a turtle nest?
Who else would stop a fight to help a little kid? Who else read Tolstoy in her spare time?

And who else, at least in this town, would fall for Will before knowing anything about his family?

That, he had to admit, was important to him, too, as much as he wished it weren’t. He loved his dad and his family name, and
he was proud of the business his dad had built. He appreciated the advantages that his life had brought him, but… he wanted
to be his own person, too. He wanted people to know him first as
Will,
not
Will Blakelee,
and there wasn’t another person in the world he could talk to about it, other than his sister. It wasn’t as if he lived in
Los Angeles, where celebrity kids could be found in every school, or was at a place like Andover, where practically everyone
knew someone who came from a famous family. It wasn’t so easy in a place like this, where everyone knew everybody, and as
he’d grown older, he’d grown somewhat cautious about his friendships. He was willing to talk to almost anyone, but he’d learned
to put up an invisible wall, at least until he was certain his family had nothing to do with the new acquaintance or was the
reason a girl seemed to be interested in him. And if he hadn’t known for certain that Ronnie knew nothing about his family,
he’d been convinced when he’d pulled up in front of his house.

“What are you thinking about?” he heard her ask. A light breeze rippled through her hair, and she tried in vain to collect
the strands into a loose ponytail. “You’ve been kind of quiet.”

“I was thinking about how much I enjoyed coming over.”

“To our little house? It’s a bit different from what you’re used to.”

“Your house is great,” he insisted. “And so is your dad and Jonah. Even though he crushed me in liar’s poker.”

“He always wins, but don’t ask me how. I mean, ever since he was little. I think he cheats, but I haven’t figured out how.”

“Maybe you just need to lie better.”

“Oh, you mean like you telling me you work for your dad?”

“I do work for my dad,” Will said.

“You know what I mean.”

“Like I told you, I didn’t think it mattered.” He stopped walking and turned to her. “Does it?”

She seemed to choose her words carefully. “It’s interesting and it helps explain a few things about you, but if I told you
that my mom worked as a paralegal at a Wall Street law firm, would you feel any different about me?”

This, he knew, he could answer with complete honesty. “No. But it’s different.”

“Why?” she asked. “Because your family is rich? A statement like that only makes sense to someone who thinks that money is
all that matters.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Well, what did you mean?” she challenged, then shook her head. “Look, let’s get one thing straight. I don’t care if your
dad is the sultan of Brunei. You happened to be born into a privileged family. What you do with that truth is completely up
to you. I’m here because I want to be with you. But if I didn’t, all the money in the world wouldn’t have changed my feelings
about you.”

As she spoke, he watched her growing more animated. “Why do I get the feeling you’ve given that speech before?”

“Because I
have
said it before.” She stopped walking and turned to face him. “Come to New York, and you’ll understand why I’ve learned to
say what I mean. In some clubs, all you meet are snobs, and they’re so into who their family is or how much their family makes…
it bores me. I stand there, and all I want to say is,
It’s great that others in your family have done something, but what have you done?
But I don’t, because they don’t get it. They think they’re the chosen ones. It’s not even worth getting mad about, because
the whole idea is so ridiculous. But if you think I invited you over because of who your family is—”

“I didn’t,” he said, cutting her off. “I never thought that for a second.”

In the darkness, he knew she was considering whether he was telling the truth or simply saying what she wanted to hear. Hoping
to put an end to the discussion, he turned and motioned behind them, toward the workshop near the house.

“What’s that place?” he asked.

She didn’t answer right away, and he sensed she was still trying to decide whether she believed him.

“It came with the house,” she said at last. “My dad and Jonah are making a stained-glass window this summer.”

“Your dad makes stained-glass windows?”

“He does now.”

“Is that what he’s always done?”

“No,” she answered. “Like he told you at dinner, he used to teach piano.” She paused to brush something from her feet, then
changed the subject. “What’s next for you? Are you going to keep working for your dad?”

He swallowed, resisting the temptation to kiss her again. “I will until the end of August. I’m going to Vanderbilt in the
fall.”

From one of the houses up the beach drifted the faint strains of music; squinting into the distance, Will could see a group
congregated on the back deck. The song was something from the eighties, though he couldn’t pinpoint it.

“That should be fun.”

“I guess.”

“You don’t sound very excited.”

Will took her hand and they began to stroll again. “It’s a great school, and the campus is beautiful,” he recited a little
awkwardly.

She studied him. “But you don’t want to go there?”

Ronnie seemed to intuit his every feeling and thought, which was both disconcerting and a source of relief. At least he could
tell her the truth.