“Are you from here, then?” Piper continues.
“No, actually. We’re both from a small town near Detroit.” Miles glances at Pete, as if unsure how much he should reveal.
Pete clears his throat. “The short story is, my marriage fell apart when I fell in love with Andy. I tried to stay with my wife, but it wasn’t right when my heart was with someone else. So, I left her and moved here to start over.” Shame colors his features, but he trudges on. “That decision kind of shoved me out of the family, though, so Miles and I haven’t seen or spoken to each other in years. We used to be close back in the day, but when my life changed… Anyway, I’m sorry, man. I should’ve been better about keeping in touch.”
“You weren’tshoved out,Uncle Pete. We always wanted you around. Even my mom,” Miles says softly. “She misses you.”
Pete lowers his gaze, clearly pained. “Yeah. I know. I need to call her, don’t I?”
“You should.” Miles gives him a stern look. “What do you think she’s going to say if I let it slip we’ve run into each other? She’s going to flip out.”
“Let it slip, huh? Does she even know that you’re here? Or that you’re seeing your boyfriend?”
Miles blushes. “That’s… no! That’s different!”
Everyone laughs.
Pete swallows hard. “I’ll call her.”
After a moment, Declan raises his beer. “Well, here’s to good friends and found family! I’m glad we’re all here.”
Everyone joins in.
While the conversation drifts to other topics, I go inside to get the cake.
Miles quickly joins me, folding his arms around my waist from behind.
I look over my shoulder. “Having fun?”
“Yes. I like your family.”
I glance out the window. “Yeah, they’re good people.”
His smile fades a little and his voice lowers. “Can we leave soon, though? I want to be alone with you again.”
His tone says what I already feel. Our time is quickly running out. Less than twelve hours until his plane leaves.
“Why do you think I came in for cake?”
Miles helps me serve, then we all enjoy one last hurrah with the group before leaving. Piper hugs Miles, pleading with him to stay in touch.
We’re quiet when we get in the car, and Miles avoids looking at me. Like he’s barely holding it together. I reach for his hand, deciding home isn’t where I want to be after all. I’m not ready.
Instead, I just… drive.
When he sees I’ve skipped the turn off for my RV park, Miles asks, “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
I pull into a parking lot by the beach and open my door. “Come on. Let’s go for a late-night walk.”
The sand is cool under our bare feet, packed firm near the waterline. We walk slowly, like if we move slow enough, we can stop time. Miles draws lines in the sand with a stick, and the moon dances high in the sky, reflecting like a snowy orb in the water.
He links our hands, brushing his thumb against my skin in slow, absent circles. It’s peaceful, and quiet. But it also aches.
Miles flies out tomorrow at 6:30 a.m., which means he needs to be at the airport even earlier. We’ll wake up in the dark, say a groggy goodbye in the driveway, and then I’ll drive him to the airport.
Suddenly, I’m afraid. What if his leaving shatters every good and perfect anchor we’ve made these last few days? Can I handle it?
