After adjusting his double-sided paddle in one hand, Will threads his fingers through mine with the other. “Hudson, I told you to leave it at the beach. I’m going back for the others later.”
Flexing his muscles, Hudson pumps the awkward load over his head. “I can carry it back.”
“I never said you couldn’t. I said you didn’t have to.”
“Whatever.” He starts whistling a merry tune as he and Ava walk on ahead.
Will and I trail the newlyweds, hand in hand. The bright August sun warms our skin, and the soft breeze tunneling down our path between the houses carries a hint of knockout roses and wildflowers.
He squeezes my fingers. “You did well out there. Especially since it was only your second time.”
“Thanks. It was fun.” I bump him with my shoulder and raise my voice. “Especially when I stayed on my board…unlike the rest of you.”
“Doesn’t count if you sit down,” Hudson calls over his shoulder and stumbles again.
We laugh.
I had a great time on the water today, but I never considered staying upright when I saw the blue speedboat rocketing toward the no-wake zone. I was on my knees in a flash. The others sought the challenge, claiming they could stay standing. Wrong.
Will releases my hand and slides an arm over my shoulder. “But you still ended up in the water.”
Snaking my arm around his back, I lean into him. My fingers brush the waistband of his ridiculous catfish swim trunks—“for old times’ sake,”he’d said. “True. But you didn’t get the pleasure of tumping me.”
“True,” he grumbles.
After the others fell in, my smug expression inspired Will to swim in my direction, calling, “Your hair won’t save you this time!”
And so, I shrieked and executed a horrific cannonball into the water before he could reach me. Will’s startled face was worth the plunge, even if I hadn’t planned to get my hair wet.
We’d intended a quick, dry paddle before lunch and don’t even have towels.
But despite our soggy state, an unexpected warmth fills me. What a surprising end to a summer that started so poorly—a summer bookended by two very different weddings. Two weeks into the summer, I face-planted into a chocolaty mess, derailing all my future plans. But two weeks before it ended, I met someone who helped me get back on track.
Not only have Will and I stayed in near constant contact via text or phone but also I’ve relaunched my cookie business. I’ve even had a few back-to-school orders.
Last weekend, a week after Hudson and Ava’s wedding, Will drove to Edmond for the day so we could go out on our first date. My dad only complained once that I broke my deal—again—not to date until I’m thirty.
The two of us made the trek into the city, where we explored the Myriad Gardens and had dinner on the canal in Bricktown. We wrapped up early for his hour-and-a-half drive back to Tulsa.
And this week, when Mema planned on coming to Carlton Landing for the last weekend of summer, he asked if the two of us could tag along. Ava and Hudson, back from their honeymoon, decided to join us for one last getaway before all of us got on with our lives on Monday. Them to their jobs, me to my last year of high school, and Will to freshman orientation at OU—almost an hour closer!
Mema’s front door swings open as we tromp up the steps and onto her wraparound porch, our wet flip-flops slapping the wood panels.
“Well, don’t you all look like a bunch of drowned rats.” She props the door.
Hudson hefts the board against the porch railing, and though his arm muscles had started to tremble, he made it, holding the board over his head all the way up the hill. “Yep. We took a tumble.”
“I can see that.” She waves us along. “Come on in and dry off. Lunch is almost ready.”
We file inside, wiping our feet on her welcome mat, and tell her about the “red-dirt bath,” as Will calls it.
After a few minutes, I run upstairs, taking them two at a time to change clothes and throw my hair in a bun. When I come back, they’ve moved out onto the screen porch with their homemade fish tacos. I grab mine, and Will motions me over to curl up next to him on the couch. He points up at the patio TV. “It’s the send-off video. Emma just sent it.”
I sit straighter. “Finally.”
Hudson and Ava sit pressed together in an oversized chair as their guests’ messages play. Ava dabs at her red-rimmed eyes, but she can’t stop smiling.
Mema blushes when she sees herself give a heartfelt speech about enjoying every minute together. Hudson and Will’s uncle advises them to join the boat club, my mom thanks Ava for being such a good friend to me, and Will’s sister asks if she can spend the night with them in their new apartment sometime. The videos continue, some serious and some silly, until finally, Will and I are on the screen.
