It was something they never said, just quietly felt, like a heartbeat you knew was there but didn’t acknowledge each time it pulsed. The fact that, every year, the moment they drove west over the bridge and then off in the opposing directions of their real lives, something inside both of them broke and didn’t feel repaired until the sun shone warm again.
I’ll miss you this year, too,she said.But it’ll go fast. We’ll blink and be back here.
Grace looked at him then. The boy she’d known forever, now broader, taller, with a voice so deep it still sometimes surprised her that it belonged to him. She often wondered if he thought those things about her. If he could see the ways she’d changed, even as they continued to return to this place. If he cared. Or if, like her, he just carried the years with him like souvenirs.
Things will be different when we come back here next August,he’d said.Life will be different, you know?
She did.
But for the rest of the night, as they enjoyed each other’s company beneath the distant glow of the Ferris wheel, she tried not to think about it. Instead, she just kept telling herself that no matter what happened—no matter who either of them became—they’d continue to return to each other, to this place, as inevitably and constantly as the seasons.
Back in the present moment, the breeze shifts off the water, the air suddenly warm and cool at once.
“So what are you going to ask?” Cece poses, circling back on their conversation.
Grace looks at her, confused.
“Madame Mermaid,” Cece clarifies. “For your reading.”
“Oh.” Grace laughs. “Right.” She sets her foot back down, the wound on her heel still there but at least covered for now. “Same as you, I guess.”
Cece nods. “Makes sense.” She shrugs. “Sort of a universal question, right?”
The door opens again. A woman wearing too many scarves and far too much thick blue eyeliner steps out and looks around. “Anyone else ready to hear what life has planned?”
Cece turns to Madame Mermaid and then to Grace. “Good luck,” she tells her. “Hopefully she’ll pull a better card for you.”
Twenty-Five
Grace doesn’t even bother pretending she’s surprised when she turns onto Surf Street and spots him on the steps. At this point, Sea Drift seems set on scripting out her life like a bad stage play—same setting, rotating cast, new emotional unraveling at every beat.
“I’m starting to associate these stairs with existential crises,” she says when she pulls up to the house. “Either I’m sitting on them completely mortified with myself or someone else is waiting there ready to tell me the world is falling apart.”
Caleb shrugs. “At least, unlike you, I’m not soaking wet,” he points out.
Grace wheels the bike past theFor Salesign and up the driveway.
“You know, per your rental agreement, you’re technically only allowed two visitors whose names aren’t listed on the lease,” he deadpans. “You’ve hit your quota.”
“Don’t tell the landlord.” Grace balances the cruiser against the side of the house.
“I’m sorry if I was rude last night.” Caleb meets her gaze. “To be honest, I’d gotten used to seeing you out here by yourself all week.” His mouth lifts right before he looks down at his feet. “If I’m honest, it sort of threw me when I saw you out here with someone else.”
“Adam,” Grace says, his name somehow heavy on her tongue. “My almost ex.” She sighs. “I think.” She grabs the pharmacy bag from thecruiser’s basket. “He just showed up here out of the blue last night. I’m still trying to figure out why.”
Caleb nods, like he’s already been privy to the full story. “So I heard.” He folds his hands over his thighs. “Jenny told me.”
Grace’s eyebrows lift, a silent question.
“She was heading out when I knocked on the door,” Caleb explains. “Told me she forgot wine and was running out to pick some up, then managed to explain your entire life to me in the time it took her to walk to her car.” He smirks. “She has a lot of opinions on Adam, huh?”
Grace closes her eyes, the weight of it all feeling like too much right now. “He kind of announced that he didn’t want to be married any longer at literally the worst moment of my life.”
Behind Grace, a car hums down the block, windows down, music drifting out.
“So did you mean it?” Grace asks and turns to look at the sign stabbed into the crushed seashells. “Someone’s already interested in buying it?”
“Seems that way,” Caleb admits. “If things go the way I hope they do, it should be a quick sale.” He twists to look back at the house, like he’s checking to make sure it’s still there, at least for now. When he turns back to Grace, he waits a minute before speaking again. “Kelly,” he states, plain and simple. “That was my sister’s name. She was a few years younger than me. She lived in Delaware, a runner. At least six miles every morning.” Caleb shakes his head at this, half somber and half laughing. “One of those ‘I run a marathon every year’ nuts.” He looks up at the sky, not a cloud in it, everything bright and clear. “It was her heart. Incredibly sudden. None of us had a chance to say goodbye.”
