Epilogue
CAROLINE
THREE YEARS LATER
I found him there.In between who I was and who I wanted to be. In the place I’ve always been, the same small town I grew up in, surrounded by the people who love and loathe me in equal measure. And he stayed. And he loves me more than I knew a human could love another human. I love him more than that. The relationship is existential—existing in its very own realm of love.
The airport is my second love, still. The accident served as only a roadblock to finding my happiness in all ways instead of in merely one. Still to this day, I consider the healing process my rebirth, the thing that shaped me into a person willing to accept faults, wary, but strong. From the ashes rose a woman desperately wild, capable of loving and forgiveness, seeking adventure, with the ability to take mistakes and learn from them instead of letting them crush me.
“You better get that ass in here and help me get thesedishes out on the lawn, Caroline May Holiday Bae,” Shirley hollers from across my kitchen at the inn. I’m washing dishes at the sink, my mind a million miles away as I study Tahoe and his friends chatting in a circle.
I pop my ass out so she can swat it on the way by. “Do not call me that. Bae is the Danish word for poop. How many times do we have to go over this?”
She shrugs. “The Kardashians say it, so it’s usable. Turn on a television every once in a while!”
I wipe my hands on a dishtowel and refuse to reply to my friend. Caleb and Shirley have been going steady for about a year, and I can’t say I’m surprised. She seems happy, and Caleb seems less…bitter. Grabbing a tray, I follow her out. It’s my parents’ wedding anniversary, and we’re hosting a big party. It reminds me of my wedding, and I’m feeling nostalgic.
My mama comes up beside me as I’m heading toward a tent, her white apron a gleaming white. “What can I help with?”
“Nothing. This is your day. Take off the apron. We don’t need your help today,” I say, swatting her away from trying to remove the tray from my hands. “Seriously. Go have one of those cranberry juice drinks. Tahoe was up late working on the recipe. They taste like candy. Go. Shoo,” I say.
“I love you, baby,” Mama drawls, giving me that sweet smile. “I’m so proud of you.” I grin in response. I did have to quit waitressing to help at the in, but I don’t think anyone was more pleased with that decision than my parents. I think they viewed it as me finally growingup and taking a life of my choosing. The airport is still my haunt and that’s my first and favorite job, but with the few employees I have, it’s not so much work that I feel overwhelmed. Six days a week I’m busy, but Sunday? Sundays are for my two favorite S words. Snuggling and sex. Not necessarily in that order. Tahoe has had to go on a few missions here and there, but for the most part the terrorists are controlled. Or so the government has made it seem. They’re still opening bases all over the US. Every once in a while, I say a little prayer and thank him for sending Tyler Holiday to this small town. And that he loves it as much as I do.
When desires and dreams collide, magical things happen. My current location is proof.
I’m sliding the tray of side salads onto the table when I feel him behind me.
“Mrs. Holiday, are you almost finished in the kitchen?”
I lean back, and he catches me against his chest, his big arms cradling my body. Sighing, I say, “There’s a joke in there somewhere, but I’m going to let it go because you’re hugging me.”
He tightens his arms. “Everything is going so smoothly. I told you Malena wasn’t the only one who could pull something like this off. Your dad is hitting the cranberry drink hard,” he says. Malena had a trip to the city planned forever, and couldn’t help as much as she wanted to. I freaked at first, but I’m glad it turned out as well as it has. Stick a feather in my hat, I can plan a party.
His hands slide a little lower to rest on the bottom of my stomach. He leans his head down to whisper in myear. “When do you want to tell them? Still after dinner? Or now? Or now?” The secondor nowasked with even more excitement than the first. He is so excited. Granted it’s been weeks of keeping my pregnancy a secret, so the relief of everyone finally knowing will be great, but I wanted to wait until their milestone anniversary to let the cat out of the bag. I don’t think my mama will want for another thing as long as she lives when she finds out she’s going to be a grandma.
“Are you saying we need to announce it before my daddy gets tanked on your juice concoction? Or are you just so stoked,” I say, using his West Coast friend’s word, “that you literally won’t be able to keep your mouth shut a minute longer?”
He laughs and kisses the side of my head. It gives me butterflies. Not baby’s fluttering kicks, either. The love-tinged madness of him affecting me so fully that I have no control over my own body. “A little of both. What do you say?” Tahoe bounces from one foot to the other.
“Oh, goodness, go get the present already!”
“Yes!” he shouts. When people glance his way, he tries to hide his excitement. “Be right back,” he says, clearing his throat.
Hands on my hips, I watch him go and skip a little as he tries not to sprint into the inn for their gift. I walk toward where my parents are sitting at a table when I see Tahoe exit the house with the medium-sized box.
It’s as good a time as any. Friends are milling around the bar, and some couples are already dancing or sitting down and eating. Tahoe’s parents weren’t able to makeit tonight, but they will be here early next week to stay for an entire month. They haven’t been here since the wedding. We visited them last summer for a couple weeks, and it was easy for me to see why Tahoe is so amazing. They are loving parents. His dad has blue eyes and a dimpled smile, and his mother has blonde hair and an understanding way. We’re going to wait to tell them until they arrive, but tonight is the night for everyone else. The Bronze Bay gossip column is about to be flooded with predictions.
Tahoe wraps an arm around me and pulls me close. “We got you a gift,” he exclaims, extending the box to my mama.
She takes it, wearing a warm, thankful smile.
“Go on. Open it now,” I urge when she goes to set it aside. Manners dictate one should wait until guests leave to open gifts so no one gets their feelings hurt if one present is obviously nicer than another. It was the same when I was a child. I remember having a big birthday party with a dozen friends and staring at the present table with longing. She’d say,“When everyone leaves, you can open them all. I’ll make notes of who got what, and we can write our thank you notes. Be polite. Use patience, Caroline May.”
“You’re sure?” Mama asks, tilting her head in confusion.
Tahoe clears his throat and nods. “We’re sure. Open it now.”
My daddy looks at the box as my mama tears into it and starts unwrapping the layers and layers of white tissue paper.She finally gets to the little notecard. It explains what it is. Tahoe helped, but it was mostly my idea. It’s a metal starfish I made from scraps of an airplane. The airplane that almost killed me, if I’m being perfectly honest. On the starfish is an engraving.A kiss the sky, blue hue, dream come true.
