What Happens Now(91)

I laughed and pointed to the chocolate hand. He handed me my “cone.”

We sat there, not knowing what to do next, watching the traffic on 299 speed by. Where were all these people going in the middle of a Tuesday? I hoped it was someplace that made them happy.

Then, Camden reached down and laced his fingers through mine.

“What happened to your ice cream?” I teased.

He smiled and shrugged. “Nothing’s better than the real stuff.”

I felt the pressure of his palm against my palm, his forearm nudging my elbow, and realized he wasn’t talking about soft serve.

All those fantasy nights I’d had that first summer, the dreams that made me sweat and ache. This right here, this was the moment. The point where I always woke up alone.

So now, a different kind of waking up, where you do it again and again, and feel the glory of it each time. Not a gift but rather, something you’ve earned.

“Hey,” said Camden, leaning his head against mine and looking off toward the mini-golf course. “Is that gnome giving us the finger?”

With my free hand I turned his face toward mine and kissed him.

They say, be careful what you wish for.

But I say, how else does anything begin?





ACKNOWLEDGMENTS


Rosemary Brosnan, thank you for your faith in this story and also in me (as a writer and, you know, as a person). You guide a book into the world with such intelligence, affection, and grace.

My agent, Jamie Weiss Chilton, knows when to make her support gentle and positive, when to make it fierce, and when it’s time to just chat about junk. She’s terrific.

I’m grateful for the hard work of Jessica MacLeish, Kim VandeWater, Olivia Russo, the Epic Reads team, and the rest of the HarperCollins staff who do so much behind the scenes. Designer Heather Daugherty created a cover that’s truly a thing of beauty in its own right, and I’m thrilled that anything that comes out of my brain could be associated with Thomas Doyle’s stunning artwork.

I was lucky to have early readers in Stephanie Kuehn, Rachel Hartman, and especially Phoebe North, with whom a walk on the Rail Trail is often the cure for my angst of the moment. Kim Purcell, I love you for always being present and honest, and also for thinking Camden was so hot.

Bill Spring gave me everything I needed to get the work done, in whatever form and at whenever time, including a hand in the creation of the Silver Arrow universe. My daughters, Sadie and Clea, were endlessly understanding and excited and proud, even though they’re not even allowed to read this yet.

I’ve run out of ways to articulate my gratitude to my parents, Jay and Sue Castle, for their wholehearted, multifaceted support. I’m reminded of Camden’s question to Ari, when he asks how you figure out love without anything real to base it on. I’ll just say, thanks to them—and the many treasured people in my life I don’t have room to mention here—I’ve never had that problem. Every day they fill my heart with something-reals.