I shrug. “New sneakers, I guess.”
I blow out the candles and, as everyone applauds, the doorbell rings.
We all look at each other. No one else was invited.
“Delivery person?” Mom asks Dad as she glides away from the table to see who it is.
We’re all silent, listening as she crosses through the foyer and opens the door.
“Oh my gosh,” Mom says. “So good to see you.”
“You too, Wendy.”
My heart reacts before my brain, so by the time I realize who it is, I’m already up from my seat and headed to the door.
Maggie
“You sent me these,” I say, standing on his front porch and holding up the photos.
Carter stares at me for a moment, sweetly confused.
“I did,” he says finally. “But the post office said they weren’t supposed to make it to your house until after I...” He’s so adorably flustered.
“Well, they showed up today,” I say. “My mom recognized your handwriting and figured it might be urgent. So she opened it. And told me. I came home a day early. Because I love them. The photos.”
“Oh.” Carter smiles. “Really?”
“Really,” I say.Loveis an understatement. The photos are gorgeous. The ones at the wedding, the ones of us in his room. As I sat on the couch with Mom looking at them, I couldn’t stop crying. “And I never love pictures of myself.”
“I felt like you should see them,” he says, shivering a little in his blue sweater. “To have something to remember me. I had copies developed for myself too. So when I loop, Future Me will know who you are. Through my eyes.”
I nod. This is every bit as painful as I thought it would be.
“Do you want to come inside?” Carter asks.
I want to say yes. I desperately do.
“Probably best if I don’t,” I say, wrenching the words from my own mouth.
“Yeah, no,” Carter says. “I totally understand.” He steps out from the doorway onto the porch and closes the door behind him. He’s in just socks. They have little tacos all over them. It’s easier to look down there than into those green eyes.
“You look really grown-up,” he says.
“I think it’s just this new jacket.”
Dad took me to the outlet stores on Black Friday and got me this light brown trench coat. I’m still not sure if I can pull it off.
“Oh yeah,” Carter says. “I dig it. You’re like a sexy detective.”
“Okay,” I say, laughing. “Not exactly what I’m going for, but I’ll take it...?”
“You should. Sexy detective is the highest compliment I can give.”
A gust of wintry wind blows past us. This jacket definitely isn’t warm enough. Carter is stoic, but I see him shiver again too.
“Hey, I’m sorry,” he says. “That I... stopped being around. After the wedding.”
“No, I get it. I’m sorry I lied to you. And put you in that position.”
