“Don’t think we can put it off any longer,” I smile, turning around to press a little kiss to his lips. He tastes like mint toothpaste and summertime.
“Hey, wait a second, I think someone’s texting me.” He pulls out his phone. “It’s the house.”
“You’re kidding.” I exclaim.
“Maureen says the owners are listing it. They’re moving to Bangor.”
“Put an offer in. I don’t care what it looks like inside.”
“Well, we’ll have the inspector take a look first, but?—”
“I’m telling you. This is your house on the hill. Put in an offer!” I can barely contain my excitement. I can’t wait to be a homeowner again.
“Okay, I’ll try, but?—”
“Quickly!”
“I’m texting her, I’m texting her.” Dean laughs, pulling me into a hug, pressing a kiss to my lips. I pull him closer, wrapping my arms around his neck. A kiss that’s sweeter than in my memory.
“Hey! Dean! Madeline!” Sierra calls from the bottom of the staircase. “Stop making out and come downstairs! You need to start grilling!”
I guess that’s what we get for leaving the door open. We break apart, and I go down the stairs first. Dean follows close behind me, his hand on the small of my back. Greeting his relatives on the way, I walk into the kitchen to grab myself a drink while Dean heads outside.
Standing in the doorway, I watch him get the grill ready. The yard is a little overgrown and probably in need of a mow, but it looks like a great place for a party with a small event tent propped up in the yard and string lights hanging from the house to the tent.
“Hey,” Eliza says from behind me. “I’ve got the decorations.”
“Whatcha got?” I ask.
“Streamers, balloons, one of those photo booth kits…” She digs through the plastic bag, handing me the pack of balloons.
“I’ll go find the air pump,” I say, taking the balloons. I remember seeing it in their garage once. I open the door to the backyard, and walk past Dean, who has got several chicken thighs on the grill, and smack his ass while no one’s watching.
“Hey!” He shouts as I walk by.
Giggling, I open the door to the garage and begin searching for the air pump. I know we used it for Laura’s birthday just last month, so it has to be around here somewhere. I search through bags and boxes, but still nothing.
“What are you looking for in here?” I jump, startled by Dean’s voice, knocking a box to the floor.
“Just looking for the air pump.”
“It’s inside the house. I put it in the dining room earlier.”
“Oh—I’ll get it,” I try to move around him, but he’s blocking the door. “You’re in the way.”
“Madeline,” He says, and the way he says it, makes my heart tick a beat faster.
“Yeah?”
“I’m proud of you.” Dean smiles. “You’ve come a long way. And it was all you.”
I smile back at him. I have come a long way. My heart beating faster doesn’t bother me as much, I can control my breathing when it does, and I haven’t had a panic attack in five months. I still go to therapy, and I still take my pills, but I’m not reclusive anymore. I don’t need an iron-clad routine to rule my life. A year ago, I would have been desperate to sink to the bottom of a pond like a wrecked ship. But now, I’m swimming better, farther than ever.
Epilogue
Chessie, our black labrador retriever, and I watch the snow fall from our bay window at our house on the hill. The snow looks mesmerizing as it falls in big, chunky flakes. There’s already a foot of snow on the ground, and we have a path dug out from the front porch to the mailbox, but otherwise, the snow is perfectly untouched.
The smell of birchwood spreads throughout the house from the fireplace. There’s a candle lit on the coffee table, and a wool blanket draped over me. The record player in the corner of the room softly plays Andy’s NORTHERN SUMMER NIGHTS record, even though it’s the dead of winter.
