Page 61 of Anti-Hero (Kensingtons: The Next Generation #2)

I ’m pouring coffee into my mug when Collins stumbles into the kitchen.

I smile. “How’s my baby?”

She yawns. “He’s fast asleep. Must be nice.”

“I meant you , Monty.”

Lili pretends to gag, stabbing a piece of waffle. “I’m eating here. Can you not with the pet names?”

I hand Collins the mug, then fill a second one for myself, ignoring my sister. “ You hungry?”

“Yeah.” She yawns again, so I steer her over to the table by her shoulders and into a chair.

“Did you decide what you’re wearing tomorrow?” I hear Lili ask Collins as I start to fix her a plate.

“No. But Dylan has these really cute striped overalls.”

“Okay, then we’re going shopping after breakfast,” Lili says. “Blue will look best with your hair.”

We’re in the Hamptons for the Fourth of July. Tomorrow is my grandmother’s annual Red, White, and Blue party.

“Can we go this afternoon?” Collins suggests as I set a plate down in front of her. “I was going to see if Kit wanted to go sailing this morning.”

“Really?” I glance at her, startled.

Last I knew, her feelings about the ocean hadn’t changed.

“Yeah.” She bites her bottom lip, holding my gaze. “Your mom said she’d watch Dylan. But we don’t have to if you don’t?—”

“Of course I want to. You’re just … sure?”

I don’t want her doing this for me.

Lili glances between us with open curiosity, but doesn’t ask as Collins nods in confirmation.

“Where’s Charlie?” Collins wonders.

“He’s by the pool, talking to his grandmother,” Lili replies.

“Has she warmed up to you yet?” I ask.

“We had tea last week, and she smiled a tiny bit when I said I was moving to Buckleby, so … progress?”

“You’re moving to England?” Collins glances at me after asking the question, but I’m just as stunned.

Lili’s smile is a little sheepish. “I wasn’t sure how to tell you guys. It’s going to kill me, being away from my nephew?— ”

“And your brother,” I interject.

“But it’s what makes the most sense right now.

There’s a museum in France that’s looking for a landscape architect to redo their grounds, and it’s a much shorter commute to England than it is back to New York.

I’ll keep my place here, of course, but won’t be using it much.

” She half smiles. “I told Bash he could use it on his school breaks since Kit kicked him back to Mom and Dad’s. ”

“Yeah, poor guy,” I say sarcastically. “Slumming it in a six-story townhouse.”

Lili laughs. “You guys will have to come visit. The estate is this cool old castle, and there’s a pub in town and an ice cream shop?—”

“ How do you guys sleep through that crying every night?” Bash questions, entering the kitchen. His T-shirt is on inside out, and his hair is sticking out from every possible angle.

“We don’t,” I state.

Bash makes a face. “And that’s … normal ?” He sounds aghast.

“Yeah, for the first few months.” At least, I hope it’s only going to be the first few months.

“Sorry he kept you up,” Collins says apologetically.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Bash replies. “But now that I know it’s a recurring thing … I might have to buy earplugs for tonight.”

“You can always go sleep at Gigi and Grandfather’s,” Lili suggests.

Bash groans. “Pass.”

This is the first year we’ve stayed at our parents’ house instead of our grandparents’. It’s the first year our immediate family has expanded, me bringing Collins and Dylan, and Lili coming with Charlie.

We finish breakfast. Bash leaves to meet up with friends. Lili heads out to the pool. Collins and I get dressed in suits, which I assure her is entirely unnecessary because there’s no chance we’ll unintentionally end up in the water.

Collins transfers a sleeping Dylan into the carrier that doubles as a car seat, we pack up the endless array of baby necessities, and then I drive us to my grandparents’ down the road. A parade of vehicles is headed in and out of the gates, party preparations already in full swing.

My parents are both waiting outside.

My mom literally bounces when I park.

My dad opens the back seat door before I have a chance to.

They’re obsessed with their grandson. If my mom isn’t dropping off dozens of new outfits for Dylan, my dad is stopping by to take “Crew Jr.” for a stroller trip through the park.

I’ll never forget the look on his face when I told him one of Dylan’s middle names. He and Mom named Lili after the grandmother who never got to meet any of her grandchildren. I’m glad my dad got a chance to appreciate the tribute.

“Everything should be in there,” I tell my mom, who’s grabbed the diaper bag out of the trunk. “Pacifiers, toys, change of clothes?—”

“We know; we know,” she tells me, leaning over the car seat Dad’s pulled out of the car to smile at Dylan. “We remember everything.”

“He’s gotten bigger, Red,” Dad says. “Don’t you think so? Look at those hands. He’s going to be tall. And strong. Maybe a soccer player.”

I exchange an amused look with Collins. My parents saw Dylan last night. He’s growing fast, but not overnight.

“Okay, well, great to see you guys,” I state. “Good talk. Really glad we had this quality time together.”

Mom smiles. “You two have fun. He’s in good hands.”

Collins and I climb back into the minivan, and then we’re continuing toward the marina .

It’s warm out, but not as sweltering as it’ll get later in the day. I turn the air-conditioning off and roll the windows down instead, letting the salty breeze sweep through the car. Collins sticks her right hand out the window, having her fingers surf the wind.

Unsurprisingly, the marina is packed. This weekend is undoubtedly one of the busiest of the summer. The busiest maybe.

I find a spot in the crowded lot. Collins glances around, wide-eyed, as we walk down the ramp and onto the floating docks. Her grip tightens on my hand as they shift under our feet, rocking with the currents of the water.

“Hey, isn’t that Wren?” she says.

I follow her gaze, squinting through my sunglasses. Sure enough, my cousin is standing next to a Boston Whaler, arms crossed as she scowls at a guy whose back is turned to us. He’s wearing the same polo shirt as all the marina employees, suggesting he works here.

“Yeah, it is.”

“Should we go say hi?”

Wren’s talking now, her ponytail swishing back and forth as she speaks passionately.

“Uh … doesn’t look like a great time,” I state. “She’ll be at the party tomorrow. We can talk to her then.”

Collins nods. “Okay.”

We walk down to the end of the dock, where the dinghies are tied.

“What— this is the boat we’re going out on?” she asks incredulously.

I smirk as I squat to untie it. “This is the boat we’re taking to the boat we’re going out on. Unless you want to swim?”

Collins chews on her lower lip, studying the small boat.

“We don’t have to go out,” I assure her. “We can go to the beach. Or the restaurant here has really good lobster?—”

“No, no. I want to.” She takes a deep breath, then white-knuckles her way onto the rowboat.

I toss her a life jacket from the bag I brought. “Put that on.”

She doesn’t argue before slipping the straps over her shoulders and buckling it. She’s more nervous than she’s letting on, and nothing has ever felt more precious than that earned trust.

I toss the bag with the other life jacket on the scratched fiberglass, then climb in the back and pick up the oars.

Collins smiles as she watches me row out to the mooring.

I smile back. “What?”

“This is nice.”

It is nice. It’s also one of the few moments we’ve had alone together since Dylan was born. The weather, bright and sunny, matches my mood.

I jerk my chin to the left since both hands are occupied. “ That’s the boat we’re taking out.”

She turns to look at it. “We, as in just the two of us?”

“There’s no crew waiting aboard, if that’s what you mean.”

“It’s huge , Kit.”

“Stop saying that to me, Monty. You’re supposed to keep my ego in check, remember?”

I can’t tell behind her sunglasses, but I’m positive she’s rolling her eyes at me. I can tell she’s blushing, and I love that I still have that effect on her.

“I can’t sail,” she tells me.

“Yeah, I figured. I promise your participation won’t have to extend past holding a couple of ropes. Just relax and let me do all the hard work.” I wink. “That was a sex joke. ”

“Thanks for clarifying.”

I laugh as I work the left oar harder, drawing us even with the stern and folding the ladder down. “Up you go.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll meet you up there. I’ve got to untie the sailboat from the mooring and tie up the dinghy so we have a way to get back to shore.”

“Okay.”

Collins stands carefully, stepping over the bag and placing a foot on the lowest rung. She scrambles up quickly, the lines on her forehead relaxing when she’s safely aboard. The sailboat is forty feet, roughly five times the size of the vessel we rowed out in.

I pass her the bag, then maneuver closer to the mooring ball, quickly sorting through the ropes so that the right boat is attached and the right one is untethered. I hoist myself up, using the metal railing, grinning at Collins. She’s stretched out on the seat, watching me.

“Give me a sec, and we’ll get moving,” I tell her.

I started taking sailing lessons when I was five. Checking the bilge, stowing the swim ladder, taking the mainsail cover off, and raising the anchor are all second nature. I can focus on the feel of Collins’s eyes on me instead.

“Wanna steer?” I call to her once the sails are straight and lines are taut.

Her reply gets lost in the wind, but she stands and makes her way over to me. Watching her walk toward me will never get old.

I move to the left so she can take my place at the wheel, guiding her hands to the proper position. “Don’t hit anything.”

She laughs, the happy sound only lasting for a few seconds before another gust of wind whips it away.

The marina is a distant dot behind us, nothing except sparkling blue ocean spreads ahead of us.

Collins rests her head against my shoulder, keeping her eyes on the water. My little rule follower, taking my warning seriously.