Summer friends.
A summer romance.
That was the rhythm of it, from the first time their families met the week Grace turned nine and staying that way long after their first kiss under the glow of boardwalk rides the year she turned thirteen. Up until that night, they were buddies. The two of them. Meg. A few other kids from neighboring families. They played Frisbee. Flew kites. Walked to the arcade. Went on long swims. Like most things on Sea Drift, their feelings were slow to start. A sideways glance. A too-long hug goodbye. A late-day walk on the beach, just the two of them.
In the beginning, Birdie told Grace to go slow and just enjoy her trips without getting boy crazy. But as the seasons pressed on, even she saw it was more than that. By the time Grace was eighteen and preparing for college, it wasn’t just a summer crush anymore. It’d become a full-body ache. They never committed to a long-distance relationship, both knowing it’d never work. Ray would be down south for art school; Grace would be busy studying writing at Penn State. It was a dream. A cute movie plotline. It wasn’t realistic.
Instead, they lived their lives, each of them evolving and finding themselves a little more with each month that passed. Every August—regardless of new friends or the spark of other romantic interests back home—they both ran to each other on that familiar stretch of coastline.
Until the year they both turned twenty-five.
That August—the Murphys’ final trip to Sea Drift—a heavy fog hung over the week and refused to lift. Everyone knew it was an ending to more than a vacation. Despite the adults making promises to keep in touch, and Meg and Grace chatting about visits (Seriously, though—let’s plan something!), deep down, they all knew it was just talk. Up until Friday night—the last before both families packed their cars and drove away—Grace and Ray didn’t mention it. Not directly. But it was there, floating in every moment of silence, as quiet yet omnipresent as the waves.
“What if we didn’t leave?” Ray said late that night out on the fishing pier. The adults were having margaritas on the Murphys’ deck while the“kids”—all of whom were legal adults now—had one last bonfire on the beach. At some point, while everyone else was distracted by beer and music, Ray took Grace by the hand, and they walked off. “What if we just stayed here forever? Turned our annual vacations together into a real life?”
Since college, they’d both hovered in that strange limbo stage—grown-up, but not quite. Ray, doing graphic design down in Virginia and bartending to pay the bills. Grace, bouncing from place to place, scribbling down story ideas, trying to work up the courage to do the things she actually felt she should.
For the first time in her adult life, she had a plan. Not a yearlong Band-Aid, but a real one. In September, she’d move to Manhattan—had already signed a lease on a studio apartment and accepted a copywriting job at a small publisher—a way, she hoped, to plant one foot in the door of the industry. It was a step, arealone. An opportunity to get serious about turning her chaotic twenties into something steady.
“Ray, come on.” Grace had laughed and leaned back on his chest. Out in front of them, the moon shone down on the ocean. “It’s a beach town. People don’t live here. Not for real.”
“Some people do,” he countered.
“Yes, but they’re retirees,” Grace pointed out. “Not twenty-five-year-olds trying to build their résumés and pay back student loans.” Above them, the stars dotted the sky like glitter. “Maybe fifty years from now, after we’ve both actually done some stuff—realstuff—first.”
Ray wrapped a strand of Grace’s long hair around his finger, gave it a gentle tug. “Did you ever hear the story about the fisherman and the businessman?”
“Why do I feel like an impossible-to-solve riddle is incoming?”
“I’ll give you the short version.” He straightened his stance. “So this businessman is walking along the beach in a coastal village when he notices a fisherman sitting on the shoreline. The fisherman isn’t doing a thing, just staring at the water while his boat is tied to a dock nearby. The businessman—always thinking about the future and howto gain more wealth—approaches the guy, asks why he’s not out fishing and trying to make a bigger catch. So the fisherman says, ‘Because I already caught enough fish. I’m done. Now I can enjoy the day.’ Well, the businessman doesn’t love this answer. ‘But if you go out again now,’ he explains, ‘work harder, work longer, then you can probably expand your business, buy another boat, and make even more money.’ And the fisherman asks, ‘And then what?’ To which the businessman replies, ‘And then you could finally be content, just sit on the beach, and do nothing except enjoy your life.’ The fisherman just laughed, looked at the guy, and said, ‘But isn’t that what I’m already doing right now?’”
“That’s a nice story, Ray,” Grace had said. “But it’s just a story. It’s not real life or—”
“Why not? Why can’t it be?” He scooted back, pulled a local Realtor flyer from his pocket. “Look. There are apartments we can rent here for next to nothing. I can pick up a bartending gig in town. You can write and take on some odd jobs, and—”
“I’m moving to New York in a few weeks.” Grace pulled herself up, standing. “I have goals. I need to start meeting people in my industry, taking my work more seriously, and—”
“When are we going to stop playing this game and pretending this is just a silly summer romance?” Ray bolted up. “I think about you constantly! For years, every night before I fall asleep, your face flashes through my mind!” He yanked off his hat, scraped his fingers through his hair. “We’re both happy here. Why bother going to look for happiness someplace else?”
“Because it’s a fantasy! And unrealistic!” Grace shouted. “You can’t just be a bartender forever.” Her voice cracked. “I’m not going to waste my degree working odd jobs and being a beach bum for the rest of my life.”
“Why not?”
“Because, Ray!” Grace exclaimed. “Life isn’t a clever parable!”
Ray walked to the far end of the dock. For a minute, Grace thought he was leaving. “Here,” he said when he finally turned and headed back.“I bought this for you today. A birthday gift, since I won’t really get to see you on your actual birthday tomorrow, it being departure day and all.” When he reached her, he held out his hand. “It’s not fancy. But I thought you’d like it.” He set a simple silver ring etched with a subtle wave motif in Grace’s palm. “It’s from that shop you love, the one with all the shells and wind chimes, where Birdie bought your necklace way back when.”
“Ray, I—”
“It’s not an engagement ring,” Ray quickly clarified. “I’m well aware we’re nowhere near ready for that.” He paused. They both looked at the ring. “It’s a promise.” Time collapsed in on itself. All the years they’d known each other compressed inside that single fleeting moment. “If you’re willing to make this something real, then I am, too. Because after tonight, there’s no guarantee we’ll see each other again. Not unless we really commit to it.”
“Hey!” a voice called out from the beach.Meg. “Are you guys coming back? I’m going to walk to the market, grab more beer. You guys want anything specific, or—” Meg cut herself off. Like everyone, she knew about Ray and Grace’s summer courtship. Even so, it was obvious she realized this was something private.
“We’re fine for now, Meg,” Ray said, not taking his sight off Grace. “We’ll be back soon, all right?” In the distance, Meg ran off. “Grace. Please say something to me.”
Every emotion she’d ever felt beat through her all at once. Love. Panic. Elation. Surprise. However, the one that came through the strongest was fear.
“I need to go,” Grace said through a gasp and took off down the pier. “I can’t do this. Not now. Not weeks before the whole next chapter of my life is about to begin.”
