Page 146 of Summer After Summer

“We are. We’re getting married.”

“I know, right?”

We smile at each other, and then my face falls.

“What is it?”

“Charlotte is going to kill me.”

“I doubt it. You father might not be thrilled, though.”

“He won’t care.”

“The same guy who barely let me into the house?”

“He’s mellowed.”

“Has he?”

I touch his face. “He feels bad … for last time … He won’t put up a fuss.”

Wes nods, a moment passing through his face. “I’ll be glad about that, then.”

“About what?”

“That I wasn’t here first.”

I take a swat at him. “Wes.”

“I’m here last, though.”

I lean my forehead against his. “Yes, you are.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

July 2023

After the fight he had with Wes, weeks go by where I don’t see Fred.

He’s not at the window when I practice in the morning. He doesn’t come to cocktails.

I don’t ask, but I know that Wes hasn’t seen him either, because I’d be able to tell if he had. Eventually, from a side comment that Charlotte drops, I learn that Fred’s left town for the moment, maybe for good.

I don’t know how I feel about that, but I try not to let it occupy my thoughts. Instead, I spend time with Wes, tentative time, rebuilding time, and I put the finishing touches on the house for the estate sale.

I read the rest of my mother’s diary, and there are no big revelations. I feel like I know her better, but my mother needs to be packed away too, as much as it hurts to do it.

Wes’s bruises have faded and my thoughts of Fred fades with them. Wes and I aren’t quite what we were—I don’t know if we ever can be—but we’re better. We don’t fight, we remember good times, we plan for more. And this is what I always wanted with him. For him to be present like he was in the beginning, for us to be on the same page. I know that what happened to us happens to a lot of couples when they stop taking time, when they stop paying attention, when they take the other person for granted. So we try not to do that anymore, and the more we do it, the more possible it seems, like a muscle that hurts the first day you flex it, and then never again.

And now it’s August, our last week here.

The estate sale is Friday, and afterward we’ll sign the transfer papers for the money, and then Wes and I will go back to the city. Everything is cataloged and tucked away. Every room is packed up. There’s just my mother’s room to clear out, the one thing I could never get to.

But today we’re going to, come what may—all three of us together.

Charlotte, Sophie, and I stand in front of the doorway like it’s the wardrobe to Narnia.

“What do you think is in there?” Sophie says.

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