“I liked the darkroom.”
“I know you did. But I can do better. With everything. I’m in this, Alice. I’m so in this.”
“I know.”
I know that he’s worth so much more than he thinks he is. I will give him everything I have—my time and my devotion and my heart. And I know he’ll give it right back to me. Because I know Charlie. The incorrigible flirt. The human beam of sunlight. The man I love.
He’s my best friend. And he’sremarkable.
Epilogue
One year later
I stare at the photo, and just like that, I’m seventeen.
I hear them across the bay. For a moment, I’m lost in the golden glow of a summer long ago. The laughter of three teenagers. The rumble of a familiar motor. A camera between my hands.
And then I feel him standing beside me—his warmth, his smell, the hand that settles on my lower back. I saw him across the room earlier tonight, but we haven’t had a chance to speak. He looked as proud and puffed up as a peacock. I was in the middle of a conversation with a collector, and he raised his glass, tossed me a wink, and mouthed,Later.
“I’ve been waiting to corner you,” Charlie says now. “You’re a very popular woman this evening.”
I tilt my head and find a pair of gleaming green eyes. “I can’t believe how many people are here,” I say. The space is packed, the music barely audible over the noise of the crowd.
“I can,” Charlie says. A hand skims down my arm, and hisfingers knit through mine. “I’ve never believed in fate. But it’s hard to argue with this.”
We turn and study the three teenage faces in front of us. Charlie, Sam, and Percy in the yellow boat. My name on the wall beside them.
I’ve spent time at Elyse’s gallery during the show’s installation, but walking into the space earlier this evening, when it was still empty, surrounded by my photos, affected me in a way I didn’t anticipate. I was glad I came alone, that I’d asked Charlie and my family to wait until the crowd began to arrive. I sat on the floor in the middle of the exhibition, soaking it in.
There are twelve large-format photographs inAlice Everly: Seen. In one, Nan and John sit on a bench in the backyard of his home in Ottawa. It’s calledReunion. InUnstuck, my mother tromps through rows of grapes in muddy galoshes, her cheeks a windswept pink. There’s one of Percy, pregnant, in her orange bikini, pouring a cup of coffee, morning sunlight streaming in through the window. I named itComing Soon.And then there’sFalling—the photo of Charlie I developed in his high school darkroom last summer.One Golden Summerhangs in the back corner.
“A lot of people can’t stand their early work, but I still love it,” I say to Charlie now. “It feels timeless.”
Charlies leans toward my ear. “That’s just my good looks.” I snort, and he adds, “And your exceptional talent.”
He plants a soft kiss on my cheek. “I know we’re here celebrating your work, but I think it’s important we also celebrate those pants.” His gaze drops down my body, bottom lip between his teeth, and I laugh.
I didn’t straighten my hair but am otherwise dressed in all my armor—glasses, red lipstick, chunky heels, a black silk blouse—but I’m also wearing a pair of leather trousers the old Alicewouldn’t have dared to pull off. Charlie had me up against the door when I tried them on for him.
“At the risk of swelling your ego to an unbearable degree,” I say to him, “I’m not sureremarkablequite covers how you look tonight.”
Charlie also bought a new outfit. A charcoal herringbone jacket and pants with a snug cream cashmere turtleneck underneath. He looks as hot as he thinks he does.
I run my hand over the lapel. “I love this.”
“Yeah? More than the suit and tie?” Charlie’s city uniform has changed since quitting his job in the spring. He joined a prestigious foundation that raises money for heart disease research as CFO a few weeks ago.
“I do love the suit and tie,” I tell him. “But this isn’t as stiff. You seem more like yourself.”
Charlie’s surgery was only a year ago, but it’s hard to remember him as anything less than healthy and happy and light. Every room he enters glows with his warmth and ease.
Not that it surprises me. I fall more in love with Charlie with every joke, every laugh, every evening he leaves me alone to go to choir practice with Nan, every morning he struts around the apartment with his shirt off, every kiss I press to the scar that runs down the center of his chest.
I moved into his place—ourplace—in the spring just as he gave his notice. Charlie took the summer off to decide what he wanted to do next and to work on John’s cottage. We still call it that, though it’s ours now. Percy and Sam insisted there was enough space at the house after Susie’s arrival, but that’s not why Charlie bought it. He wanted a new beginning, a cottage to fill with memories of our own. I spent the summer traveling between Barry’s Bay and the city. I hung out with Percy and Susie,while Sam and Charlie attempted to update the cottage kitchen. They called Harrison for backup after the first weekend. It’s a major improvement, though the curtains Nan and I sewed remain.
“You’ve made Charlie the best version of himself,” Sam said to me one of those weekends. We were sitting on the dock with Percy, while Charlie was in the water beside us, taking Susie for a swim. She has both her father and uncle wrapped around her finger.
“He was always this version,” I told Sam.
