“I’m sorry,” I said, wiping my free hand over my face. “This has been so great. I don’t want to end it on a bad note.”
“End?” He sat up. “Nothing’s ending here, at least for me. This is just a pause, until we’re together again.”
“To see big bells and have limeade,” I managed to get out.
“And eat pickles with angels,” he added.
With that, I was sure I would lose it, and probably would have if he hadn’t leaned in closer to me, kissing me long and hard, his fingers pressed against my back. I’d never felt so happy and sad at once, the absolute convergence of two opposing emotions, and together they made my heart full enough to feel like it might break. When we finally pulled back from each other, I was sobbing.
“Don’t,” he said, then swallowed himself, looking past me. “We’ll talk all the time. And text, and make plans right away to see each other again. Like, today.”
“Okay,” I said, barely managing to get the word out.
“Wewill,” he said, thinking I was doubting this, but I wasn’t. I never doubted him. There just wasn’t enough time.
I reached over to his other wrist, tilting his watch to see the face. It was 6:46. “You should probably go.”
He pulled a hand through his hair, then cleared his throat but didn’t say anything. A woman with two kids, one in a bathing suit, was coming down the beach toward us now, a cup of coffee in her hand.
“Walk me up?” he said.
I got to my feet, picking up my shoes from the sand beside the chair as Ethan stood as well and found his own. Then we started toward the steps that led to the hotel. He was holding my hand, our fingers tightly entwined. Even in motion, I wanted to be as close to him as possible.
I didn’t put on my shoes after climbing the last step, or even when we circled the pool to the hotel entrance. Instead, I waited until the last possible moment, standing in front of the doors there, before sliding my feet into the straps and buckling them. The night had been barefoot, and the night was over. As Ethan shook out his socks, then put on his own shoes, a housekeeper carrying a load of towels came out the door, glancing at us with eyebrows raised. Some stories tell themselves.
We were halfway to the lobby elevators when I realizedwe might really be about to say good-bye. When I slowed my steps, he said, “I’m just going to get my stuff. I’ll come back down and we’ll go out together. Okay?”
The relief I felt hearing this was immense; a reprieve, if only a short one. I nodded as he leaned in, kissing my forehead. Then the elevator came and he stepped in, smiling at me just before the doors closed.
I walked over to the lobby bathroom, pushing the heavy door open and going inside. When I saw myself in the mirror, I laughed out loud: my hair was wild, windblown and tangled, my lips swollen from kissing, the straps of my dress tied crookedly, one higher than the other. As I reached up, trying to smooth my hair, a small piece of dune grass dislodged itself from somewhere, falling into the sink in front of me. I reached down, picking it up, then turned it in my fingers slowly one way, then another.This is what it will feel like when he’s gone, I told myself, but the thought was too big. Not yet.
Back out in the lobby, Ethan was standing by the front doors, a duffel bag at his feet. He’d tucked in his shirt and splashed some cold water on his face: his skin was cool as he kissed me, a cheek brushing my own. “Found your phone,” he said, reaching into his jacket pocket and handing it to me. “You’re going to need it.”
“Are you saying you’re going to call?”
“Probably before we even leave the lot.”
I smiled. “Then you’ll need my number.”
He pulled out his phone, swiping to the contacts, andhanded it over. I could feel him watching me, so close, as I typed in my name and the digits, then hitSAVE. “There. Done.”
He took it back, then sighed. “I don’t want to be done.”
“Me neither.”
A car pulled up outside, just past the overhang of the hotel. I could tell by Ethan’s face that it was his dad. The car did look new, and expensive, low to the ground and cherry red.
“Just stay,” I said quietly, before I could stop myself.
“I wish I could,” he replied, then pulled me closer, burying his face in my hair.Is this the end?I thought. Or would there be another kiss, another moment, more time, just like I wanted? But then he was pulling back from me, still holding my hand. “I gotta go, though. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I managed to get out. “I’ll be there for limeade before you know it.”
“I’m holding you to that.” Then he did kiss me again, one hand touching my face, lingering there even as he finally pulled away. “This isn’t over, Lulu. It’s only the beginning. Right?”
“The beginning,” I repeated. “Okay.”
I saw him draw in a big breath, then let it out before he turned, starting toward the revolving doors. When he was almost there, he turned, dropping the bag and jogging back over to me. As soon as he was close enough, I had my arms around him.
