Page 84 of Every Beautiful Mile

“Listen, I’m not arguing with anyone to cook,” I announce as I top my glass of wine off. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be sitting here looking at this awful view.”

Ethan’s teeth grind when he sits in the chair next to me and the kids walk inside.

“You okay?” I ask.

He nods. “You ever think having kids is a real pain in the ass?”

A laugh bursts out of me. “I do,” I confess. “But it’s a hard time in life, right? Being a teen at the brink of adulthood. There’s so much pressure to decide who you are and what you want to do with your life, but I laugh when I think about it now. I’m forty-one and feel more confused than ever. I don’t know why we think an eighteen-year-old should have a clue. They crave independence but have no idea what that means. Neither did we, yet here we are.”

I pause, staring at the sun that’s dipping low on the horizon.

“I’m pretty sure my kids are going to have nightmares about our time in the Avion for the rest of their lives. None of us know how to do this.”

He laughs dryly, lifting his glass. “I’ll drink to that.”

A bird swoops by, and its song is the only sound other than the muffled laughs of the kids inside when it lands on a nearby branch. It’s so peaceful.

“Would you ever leave Maine?” I ask.

“Would you ever leave Key Largo?” he shoots back.

Sitting here staring at all the green, I want to say yes. I want to say I can live in a place like this. But we will both know it’ll be a lie as soon as the words come out. They’ll be the wishful dreams of a perfect day with good company and wine. Everything I know is miles and miles away.

He kicks his bare feet up on the railing. “Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

“I’m horrible at making coffee,” I say instantly. “You?”

His lips tug. “I’m great at making coffee.”

“That’s cheating, tell me something different.”

“I’ve only ever danced with one woman in my restaurant.” His face is toward the sky when he says it.

My heart flat lines, and I look at the same sky as him. “Well, I’ve only ever danced with one man in your restaurant, so it seems we have something in common.”

With that, I zip the ring across my necklace.

***

Dinner is amazing.

Derek, despite the fact he looks like he just got home from Woodstock, is an incredible cook.

We sit around the table—all talking at once and eating food so good I’m sure my taste buds are ruined forever—like it’s something we always do. Always will do.

It’s so easy with the kids, with Ethan, it physically hurts. Like it would be just a little more enjoyable if we hated each other.

When Ethan’s knee brushes against mine under the table, I don’t pull away despite the hopelessness it makes me feel.

We laugh through countless stories. We don’t ask questions about the future. We talk about who we are at this very moment. We get to know each other like it matters. Like we aren’t just passing through town but are going to be permanent fixtures in each other’s lives.

Long after the food is gone and the second bottle of wine is opened, we roll dice and yell at each other in the degradingly playful way that only the closest friends can. It's a scene as beautiful as an old snapshot—a moment made to be remembered.

When the sky is dark, the only sounds besides our voices are a choir of frogs singing like it’s their last song on earth. A faraway boom roars toward us, followed by blue lights that explode across the sky. The fireworks from the town’s Fourth of July celebration light up the night and dance across the river.

We watch, calling out our favorite ones, until the grand finale, where we all clap.

Austin stands and wriggles his eyebrows challengingly toward the table. “Ping-pong tournament of champions, anyone?”

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