“My answer was always you. It’s been you since the day I walked into the B&B.” I hold her and let the silence do what words can’t.
The sun is low and gold, and the yard smells like grass and salt and the last hour of daylight.
“Walk with me,” I say.
She looks up. “Where?”
“Trust me.”
She takes my hand, and we walk toward the beach path. The sun moves closer to the horizon. Our bare feet leave tracks side by side, and I hold her hand tighter.
“The B&B was accepted as a historical designation,” she says after a few minutes.
“Yeah? That’s great news.”
“You did that. Why?”
“There’s magic in those walls. It’s worth saving. The night you showed me the guest book and postcards, I couldn’t sleep after. I started the application that week and focused on it between my books.”
She’s silent for a few steps. “Thank you.”
I squeeze her fingers, lifting them to my mouth, and kiss her knuckles. “I will help you however I can.”
The beach curves toward the far end of the island, and the lighthouse comes into view. Around the base, the beach grass grows tall and wild. The tower is narrow and weathered from decades of salt air. The windows near the top are clouded. The iron hardware has gone green from the moisture. It seems as if the island is trying to reclaim it.
Wendy slows when she sees it. The same look she gets when she talks about the B&B crosses her face. It’s tenderness, mixed with longing.
“Wow. It’s been years since I’ve been this close,” she says. “As teenagers, we used to sneak out here and have parties.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
She smiles up at it, and the last of the sunlight catches her profile. I have to remind myself to breathe.
“Want to go inside?” I ask.
“We can’t. That’s trespassing.”
I reach into my pocket and pull out a key ring. A mermaid key chain hangs from it, identical to the one she gave me sixty-three days ago. I found it at the liquor store in town.
She looks at the key ring. Then at me.
“Signed the paperwork as soon as I landed,” I say.
“Dyson.” Her voice is barely a whisper.
“Weown it.”
“We?” she repeats.
“I put your name on the title.” I reach into my pocket and hand her the second key I had made for her. “Renovations start next week on the lighthouse and the home. I’d love your thoughts and suggestions.”
The tears start, and they’re the good kind this time. She takes the key ring from my hand and holds it up. The silver mermaid shines.
“Is this real?” she asks.
“Better fucking be, or I’m going to be pissed when I wake up.”
Wendy laughs, glancing at me, then the lighthouse, and the key in her hand.
