“We’ll wait for you!” I shout, ignoring his angry bark. I jog down the sidewalk, which is packed with families and roaming bands of teens eating ice cream, fighting a smile.
This—me jumping out of a moving car, running down a street in shorts and flip-flops—reminds me of happier times, back when I was young and my brothers would dare me to jump from some junker they’d hotwired and probably weren’t old enough to drive. I guess it’s not supposed to be a good memory and I guess they were sort of assholes for involving me, but all I remember is theyipof joy in my chest when I managed to land on my feet or do a cool action-movie roll into the grass.
Elijah was barely going five miles an hour, so it’s nowhere near the same. But that wild delight remains in my chest as I run anyway, like an old friend I’d forgotten I enjoyed.
In only a minute, Seaside comes into focus, a fairy-tale version of a small town. There are lights strung from the low-hanging tree branches, Airstreams selling food, and hundreds ofpeople milling around while a country band plays in the pavilion just beyond them.
It makes me think, oddly enough, of a beachy, American version of the holiday market where Hawk proposed to Kelsey. The coats and boots have been replaced by T-shirts and crop tops and flip-flops, the hot cocoa has been replaced by margaritas, but everyone is just happy to be here, to roam outdoors on a humid August night. I’m happy for those reasons too, though I really do need to find Betty before I allow myself to enjoy it.
She is, as promised, standing in front of the post office. She hugs me but doesn’t seem nearly as upset as I’d anticipated. “Where’s Elijah?” she asks.
“He’s parking the car,” I tell her. “Traffic was nuts.”
I scan the fields and the dance floor just beneath the band. “Betty,” I say with a slightly exasperated laugh, pointing to a group of chairs nearby, “they’reright there.”
She shrugs. “Oh, wonderful. You wait for Elijah, then come join us!”
I pick up my phone as she walks off.
Betty has been reunited with the rest of the throuple.
ELIJAH
That joke will never amuse me, no matter how many times you make it. Wait there. I’m walking over.
I should tell him just to take me back to the house, but...I don’t want to. I’ll probably never get toLa Magie de Noel, but this feels like enough for me.
God, what if Thomas had come to the wedding? I’d have missed all of this.
Even if he and I had been the ones to take this road trip, there’s not a chance he’d have considered going out to see some no-name country band. He wouldn’t even have gone out for ice cream, and he’d have quietly fretted as we drove here about how the lack of black-out shades might fuck up his perfect sleep score.
Elijah comes around the corner, his hands in his pockets, his mouth curving into a smile when he sees me. The sight of him, like this, would by far be the biggest loss.
“What’s a pretty girl like you doing outside a place like this?”
I grin at him. “I feel like I’m supposed to come up with a sexier answer thanchasing down my friend’s grandma.”
“You’re supposed to say you were looking for a big old cowboy.” He has a twang when he says those words,big ole cowboy. I hate how adorable it is.
“I don’t think that would be you. Do you even own a hat?”
His asymmetrical smile goes peak-lopsided. “No, but if you said you were looking for a big old cowboy, I’d go buy one.”
“Fine. I’m looking for a big old cowboy.”
He pretends to walk away. “Stay there. I’ll be back as soon as I’ve found a twenty-four-hour hat store.”
Are we flirting? I guess we are, and I guess that this delighted thing inside me sort of likes it. Whatever it is that’s led us here...I’m glad it has.
“So what do we do now?” I ask.
“About the hat?”
I laugh. “About your grandmother. Do we trust them on their own?”
“Of course not.” His hand falls to the small of my back, leading me down the sidewalk. “I say we get a beer or ice cream, and then we join everyone down there and line dance.”
I have no deep love of country music. I don’t know any line dances. I don’t even like beer under normal circumstances. ButI can’t think of anything I want more than to stand under the lights with Elijah, drinking a cold beer out of a long-neck bottle, waiting for him to pull me onto the dance floor.
