When Robbie's father picked him up at the airport in Portland, he greeted him with a hug. For a man who should look older, he didn't. Rob Senior was already tan and looked relaxed. His father laughed as he told him the cottage was full. Robbie was excited about seeing his grandparents and extended family.

Entering their cottage was like stepping back in time. It was his mother's family cottage, and she tried not to change it because the small three bedroom dwelling held the memory of her parents. Only his Taylor grandparents were living and were visiting Maine for the holiday weekend. His mother reached him first for a big hug and a few tears. Waiting her turn, his grandma was second.

The vacation days at the beach held a rhythm. Waking at his leisure, not exactly when sleeping on the porch, breakfast which Rob, Senior cooked, beach and more beach, drinks in the yard, and family dinners. The evening could include ice cream. Later, the adults played cards, and the kids joined in when not on the beach with friends. At almost twenty-eight, he was more of an adult than a kid. Although he had sent his old friend Reed a text letting him know he would be around for the week.

The Fourth was on Monday and Robbie had only seen his sister for a few hours every afternoon, because she worked Saturday, Sunday and Monday overnight shifts. She promised to spend time with him during her days off.

He sat next to his grandmother, with her vodka collins at her favorite spot in the yard. He had a brown bottle from a local brewery in his hand. In the warm air, the cold glass caused condensation to drip. His mom was in the kitchen and his dad went to Evan's to pick up the lobsters. He didn't know where everyone else was, but there was probably a line waiting for the shower. He wasn't in a hurry to rinse the sand off.

Lily was helping their mother, and he considered doing the same. His sister had to leave right after her lobster. As if she could read his mind, Gran asked, "What do you make of your sister's breakup?"

Robbie shrugged. He didn't understand it. "Brady's a good guy. I doubt she'll find a nicer one."

"Why do girls go for the bad guys?"

He shrugged again. "Excitement, I guess. I'm a good guy."

"But your girl's not here."

"She doesn't like Maine."

His grandmother's face didn't bother to hide her reaction. She loved Maine. "You've been together a long time. Is she the one?" He shrugged and his grandmother shook her head. "I had planned to tell you to shit or get off the pot, but your frown just now was telling."

He didn't respond. There was no need. She'd speak her mind. He'd listen, and she'd support him no matter what he did.

"A man in love should smile when asked about his girl. You greeted the little one across the street with a warmer smile."

He chuckled. "Neither Lilli nor Phoebe are little."

His grandmother laughed and took a sip of her drink. She shook her glass and the ice cubes clinked against themselves and the glass.

He had smiled when he saw Phoebe on Saturday afternoon. She was walking towards the beach when the Taylor gang was going back for happy hour. He saw her before she saw him. It gave him a chance to see how she had changed while hiding his gaze behind his sunglasses.

Her hair had already lightened and her skin looked tanned. She wore white denim shorts which were so short he wanted to see her backside because the beginning curve of her cheeks would show. Plenty of girls wore those shorts, but Cayla never would. Phoebe looked like she had finally stopped growing, but other parts hadn't. They were still perky, but a little fuller inside her black bikini top. White and black — good and bad matched the thoughts in his head.

When she saw him and her face lit up. "Robbie, no one mentioned you were coming."

"Hi, Pheebs."

They gave each other a half a hug — just arms, no body parts pressed together. His family continued up the street as they stood at the corner of Shore and Gull.

"Where boobs?"

Blame it on the Lilies. They started calling Cayla the nickname behind her back. When he visited without her, they didn't bother to hide it from him. Her breasts were her most prominent feature. The girls meant to embarrass him, since he was the one sleeping with her and presumably with full access to her body.

"It's a solo trip."

"Again, huh?"

"Yeah. It's crowded in the Taylor cottage on holiday weekends."

"But fun." She pointed towards the beach. "I'm supposed to be meeting some friends. I'll see you later."

"You know it."

She walked away. "Hey Robbie." She turned towards him as she walked backward across the street. "I'm glad you came home."

He shook his head and smiled. Still six years apart, but in the six years since his last summer in Maine, he stopped thinking of her as a little girl. At sixteen, she had looked like a woman. At twenty-two, she was an adult and able to drink. The realization that her age of innocence was most likely over caused him to frown.

So his grandmother had seen him smile when he greeted her, but not his frown. He told himself he was being protective like a big brother. It hardly made sense, considering he'd be happy if Brady was still sleeping with his sister.

After the lobsters were shells in the garbage, Lily left for the hospital, with a promise to give Robbie all her attention on her days off.

When Brady appeared with another guy, everyone greeted him like he was a member of the family. Robbie saw the sympathetic looks Chellie sent in the dark-haired man's direction.

Robbie walked over and the two shook hands. The guy had changed. He was trimmer and Robbie knew his sister was to blame.

"This is our friend, Matthew. I mean my friend."

Matthew smiled. "I'm friends with Lily, too."

"I don't understand why women do what they do, least of all my sister."

"I'm glad to meet Lily's brother."

He had an English accent which sounded like royalty to his ear after living in the south. His New England accent made him feel like a stranger in the city he had lived in for nine years.

Brady said, "Matthew dragged me out of my apartment to watch the fireworks. Do you want to come to the beach with us?"

Robbie shrugged. "Yeah. Okay."

He planned to go with his family, but guys and beers sounded better than grandparents.

The weather was nice for the holiday weekend and it was forecasted to be warm all week. He was used to the heat, but instead of central air, they had ocean breezes. They didn't need sweatshirts for the fireworks. On his end of the beach by the river, the crowd was sparser and mostly Point residents and groups of teenagers and other young people. He scanned the crowd and wondered if Phoebe was out there with her friends.

Six years. When she was starting kindergarten, he was in middle school. She was his dirty little secret. He wanted her when she was fifteen. Even though Cayla was the only woman he should want, he looked for the perky, not so little girl. What scared him most was he didn't know why he wanted to find her.

As they sat on the beach, Brady had a hard time. The English guy, Matthew, tried to cheer him up.

His mother walked over and offered to take a picture of the three of them. It was a woman thing, but Robbie smiled and sent it to Lily. Let her see he's partying with her ex.

Partying was a misnomer. Matthew had an early flight somewhere. Rob hadn't bothered to ask. Brady had to drive home, although Rob reminded him of the air mattresses.

"I'll pass." He frowned.

"You can stay with me again, mate."

Brady said, "Only good thing about being drunk was I didn't realize how uncomfortable your couch is."

"Drunk?" Rob raised an eyebrow.

Poor Brady. Rob tried to decide how he would feel if Cayla dumped him. There were some definite plusses — never following her to parties where he didn't feel welcome, and never feeling her father's glare. The man didn't think Rob was good enough for his daughter.

The thought that came to him and held was that he could come home. Home felt like Maine, a place he had never lived, except in the summer. Maybe he just missed his summers. At home, other than hanging out at Cayla's family pool, they didn't enjoy summer. It was too hot and humid and lacked an ocean.

When had he become so unhappy with his life? The exact moment escaped him. It was slow, like the tide. The surf came in and flowed out until suddenly it splashed his toes. He was too busy or distracted to realize it had snuck up on him.

He liked his work. It was challenging, and he felt a sense of confidence by being good at it, but he could do the same work anywhere, in a different office with different co-workers.

When fireworks lit up the sky, he leaned back on his elbows and looked at the exploding colors. Watching fireworks on the warm sand was another piece of summer on The Point. Robbie was glad he made the trip.

As soon as the finale was over, people started leaving the beach. Matthew and Brady said goodbye and headed down the beach. Rob stayed and pulled out his phone. He had texted Cayla hours before without a response.

When he heard a thud next to him, he turned to see a smiling face. He could see her perfectly, even in the shadows.

"Hey. Where'd your friends go?"

"Left. Matthew said something about going away and Brady, poor Brady."

"Don't let your sister hear you say that."

"Where are your friends?"

"Probably trying to get on the deck." She looked towards the Beach House. Music and the sounds of voices from the popular bar reached where they sat.

"I keep forgetting you're old enough to drink."

She laughed and turned to her side. He laid back on his elbows, but he didn't turn towards her.

"I'm not a kid anymore."

"I know." Which is why I can't be on my side. "Who were you with? Are you still friend with the pale girl?"

Phoebe laughed. "Grace is a bitch. I was trying to be cool by being friends with them. They were popular, but that was high school. I was with kids from my college."

"So college girl, are you acing it?" She laughed. "I always knew you were smart."

"So how's life down south?"

He laughed as she tried to sound southern. "It's fine, Darlin'." He could do a decent accent, but worked hard at not changing his speech.

She laughed. It sounded like the wind chimes hanging off the cottage, familiar and exciting, like home.

"Have you met any stars?"

"They don't want to meet me. I've seen a few."

"Like who?"

"Do you follow country music?"

"Maybe. I like some. There are some hot guys."

"I bet you like the crossovers into pop like Dan + Shay and Chris Stapleton who sang with Pink."

"You'd be surprised. I love Almost Heaven, but I also like old guys like Blake Shelton."

He wanted to mention Cayla's father, but he didn't want to ruin the mood. The hot band, Almost Heaven, was under his label. They were probably at his big party. There was no point in name dropping to impress her.

"Do you really listen?"

"I listen in my car. I'm closeted."

"Why not tell people?"

"Lilli will make fun of me."

Robbie laughed. "You're right. Where is she this weekend?"

"Stayed home. I think she was going to be with the crowd at the Pops concert. I say she's crazy."

"You hate crowds."

"You remember?"

She had told him six years before when the line of the Tornado ride grew long."

"I have a good memory. That was a good day."

"The best." Her voice sounded far off. He knew he needed to leave. He stood. "Come on, let's go. This old man is tired."

"You're not old."

She pushed him on the chest. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it before dropping it like a hot potato. Hot!