After an al fresco dinner at our new favorite Cuban place, Finn suggests a stroll, one last chance to enjoy a sultry evening before journeying back to colder weather tomorrow. So now we’re wandering hand in hand through Miami Beach, in the direction of... well, the beach.
“It’s flown, hasn’t it, Cal?” Finn’s saying.
For a moment I think he means a bird—force of habit from the last two weeks—then realize he’s talking about the holiday. “Can’t believe it’s work on Monday.” Not that I mind, not really. After a couple of months of looking, a friend of a friend of Finn’s gave us a heads-up on a job going at a nature reserve around thirty minutes from Brighton. I love it there now, almost as much as I did Waterfen.
A small part of me was relieved to be leaving Eversford and my perpetual fear of running into Joel. I was always so afraid I’d not know what to say—that, if faced with him, I’d feel something I didn’t want to feel. Sometimes I thought if he saw me while I was sitting in his old seat at thecafé, or when I happened to be wearing a pair of earrings he’d given me, he might think I’d never fully got over him. And then I started wondering if perhaps he would have been right.
•••
Finn has as much stuff as I do—more, if possible—so I didn’t feel as self-conscious about my clutter when I was moving in, the way I did with Joel. Not that Joel ever cared about my boxes blocking his doorways, or the things that were strewn around his flat. Still, it mattered to me less, somehow, moving in with Finn. We shoved as many of my belongings as we could into drawers and cupboards before the housewarming Finn had arranged for that first night—even though it wasn’t technically a housewarming. By early evening half of Brighton, it seemed, was crammed into the flat, drinking and smoking and dancing like we’d all become students again. Midway through the party, as Finn enthralled a ten-strong throng of people with the story of how we met, I looked at him and thought,I can’t believe you did all this for me.
•••
The highlight of Florida has been getting to spend quality time with Finn. Though he’s in his quiet period at work—survey season ramps up during spring and summer, his hours becoming long and unsociable—we never seem to stop, in our free time. Finn’s a people-person, and there are people—always—turning up at our flat, or calling us to join them for drinks at a nearby bar. Weekends are fully booked with family gatherings because Finn has two brothers and a sister, and an endless number of cousins. We spend midweek nights with friends, in pubs and restaurants and live-music venues, barely pausing between commitments. But we’ve been that way from the start—racing forward, rarely stopping, the occasional glance to check that the other is still there before forging on.
I don’t mind—a man with such a full life can hardly be a bad thing—but sometimes I wish it were just us, enjoying each other the way we didduring those precious first thirty-six hours in Latvia. Because Finn is a personsoworth savoring. He’s generous and hilarious and opinionated and wise, and sometimes I simply don’t feel like sharing him. But I know this to be selfish in a way that Finn rarely is and, anyway, that’s not the way life works.
•••
“Cal,” Finn whispers now, as we reach the beach. Instinctively, we bend to take off our flip-flops, let our brown feet sink into the sand. “There’s something I wanted to ask you.”
As I turn to look at him, he drops to one knee, removes a box from his pocket. My hand flies to my mouth as, from somewhere nearby, I register a whoop and then cheers from a group of passersby.
“I have no idea how to do this,” he breathes. “So I just figured the old way’s probably the best. Callie, I love you to the ends of this crazy earth. Will you marry me?”
“Yes.” I want time to slow down and speed up all at once. “Yes, yes, yes.”
And there, in front of the high-rises and the palm trees, beneath the stormiest, most spectacular of skies, Finn and I agree to make it forever.
84.
Joel—four years after
I’m at a service station off the M25 of all places when my past catches up with me.
“Joel?”
I turn, feel an unexpected rush of pleasure to see Melissa. “Hello.”
She takes me in for a moment, then introduces me to the Adonis at her side. “Leon, this is Joel.”
Warily, I offer him a hand, wondering if he might opt to punch me instead of shake it. But he doesn’t. He just greets me with a half smile, which is a whole half more than I probably deserve.
Melissa laughs. She’s wearing the kind of hot pink lipstick that demands impeccable teeth. “It’s all right. I’ve only ever spoken extremely highly of you, of course.”
I shoot Leon a look that’s supposed to mean,You can punch me some other time, I promise.
“Might go and grab some coffees,” he says. “Back in a minute.”
In the middle of the thoroughfare we face each other. A torrent of travelers rushes noisily past.
“Are you... How’ve you been?”
“Good.” She smiles. “We’re just off to Heathrow, actually.”
“Lucky you. Anywhere nice?”
“Barbados.” She extends her hand so I can see her ring. “Honeymoon.”
