Once and for All(49)

“More exciting than limeade?”

“I know, it’s hard to believe,” he agreed.

“And when you come to Lakeview,” I replied, running a finger down the buttons of his shirt, “I’ll take you to Luna Blu for fried pickles and to see the Angel.”

“Angel?”

“It’s a sculpture, a metal one, right outside of this office downtown. The woman’s a realtor or something? It’s huge, with these crazy wings made of bottle caps. When the wind blows, it spins.”

“Wow. That is better than our big bell for sure.”

“I can’t wait,” I said.

“Me neither.”

With every silence now, I was more aware of the passing of time.

“I’m so glad I left the wedding and came down here last night,” he said. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to close my eyes and just listen to him, or keep them open so I could have him in my gaze as long as possible.

“Not as glad as I am,” I replied, as he kissed my hair. “For once, I really did do something epic.”

He laughed: I’d told him about Jilly’s directive, of course. I felt like I’d told him everything. “I think that’s the first time I’ve been referred to in those terms.”

“But not the last. At least as long as I’m around.”

“Oh, you’ll be around.” He slid his arm to encircle my waist. “Don’t worry about that.”

I heard it, then: the opening, bouncy notes of that same Lexi Navigator song. It seemed like days ago he’d shared that story with me, not hours, and I wished I’d enjoyed having so much still ahead while I had the chance. The ring of a phone was yet more proof of the intrusion of the world, even if it did have a nice beat.

“My dad,” Ethan said, answering it. “Hello? Yeah, I’m up. Nah, couldn’t sleep so I came down to the beach.”

I loved that I was a secret. I’d remember that later.

“Let’s just grab something on the way. I’ll meet you in the lot at eight.” A pause. “Because that’s what we said last night.”

Reflexively, I closed my eyes, curling more tightly against him.

“I’m not ready to go yet,” he said, the words reverberating in me. “Seven thirty, then.”

A pause. Another gull swooped over us, crying.

“Fine. Okay. Yeah. See you.”

He hung up. I didn’t want to ask, but anyone could tell when you bargained and lost. “How soon?” I said quietly.

He was quiet a moment. “Thirty-five minutes.”

I opened my eyes, lifting my head, and moved so I was over him, looking down into his face. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I don’t want to go.” He reached up, tucking a piece of my hair, windblown, sand-tinged, behind my ear. “But it’s a long drive, and he’s ready.”

I swallowed, then tried to smile. “I’m going to hate that Lexi Navigator song even more now. It’s like she took you away from me.”

“Hey, don’t hate on Lexi,” he said. “It’s a good song!”

“But not the one that made you cry,” I pointed out.

He reached up, taking the finger I’d extended to his chin and grabbing it. “That’s between you and me, Lulu. I trust you.”

I smiled. “I won’t let you down.”

“You never could,” he said, so easily that it was this, finally, that made the tears well up in my eyes. “Hey. Don’t cry. You know I’m easily emotional.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, wiping my free hand over my face. “This has been so great. I don’t want to end it on a bad note.”

“End?” He sat up. “Nothing’s ending here, at least for me. This is just a pause, until we’re together again.”

“To see big bells and have limeade,” I managed to get out.

“And eat pickles with angels,” he added.

With that, I was sure I would lose it, and probably would have if he hadn’t leaned in closer to me, kissing me long and hard, his fingers pressed against my back. I’d never felt so happy and sad at once, the absolute convergence of two opposing emotions, and together they made my heart full enough to feel like it might break. When we finally pulled back from each other, I was sobbing.

“Don’t,” he said, then swallowed himself, looking past me. “We’ll talk all the time. And text, and make plans right away to see each other again. Like, today.”

“Okay,” I said, barely managing to get the word out.

“We will,” he said, thinking I was doubting this, but I wasn’t. I never doubted him. There just wasn’t enough time.

I reached over to his other wrist, tilting his watch to see the face. It was 6:46. “You should probably go.”

He pulled a hand through his hair, then cleared his throat but didn’t say anything. A woman with two kids, one in a bathing suit, was coming down the beach toward us now, a cup of coffee in her hand.

“Walk me up?” he said.

I got to my feet, picking up my shoes from the sand beside the chair as Ethan stood as well and found his own. Then we started toward the steps that led to the hotel. He was holding my hand, our fingers tightly entwined. Even in motion, I wanted to be as close to him as possible.