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“Why don’t you do something a little different today. The book is based on this town, right?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Why don’t I take a few pictures of you in different places mentioned in the book, and you can post those? I think it would be cool to give the readers a look at the little beach town you’ve spent the past few months recreating.”
I lean across the table and give him a quick kiss. “You’re a genius, Wyatt Hayes.”
He grins. “Well, thanks.”
The waitress brings us our food and before I dig in, Wyatt asks, “Hey, is this diner in your book?”
I think for a second then say, “Sort of? There’s a diner similar to it mentioned in the book.”
Wyatt pulls his phone out of his pocket and tells me to smile. I laugh, and he snaps the picture. When he hands me his phone, I thought I would hate the photo, but I don’t.
I have a plate of pancakes and bacon in front of me, and my fork is in my hand. But I’m looking at Wyatt, and I’m laughing. My eyes are bright and my cheeks a little pink from the cold air outside.
I look happy.
“It’s perfect.” I smile at Wyatt.
Chapter Forty-Four
Wyatt
Iwalkoutontothe beach that afternoon and stare out over the ocean. I watch the waves crash against the shore and the birds diving in after fish. The beach is deserted, and I take a deep breath.
“Hey, Mom,” I say quietly, “it feels a little strange talking to you here, but there’s some things I need to get off my chest. I’ve been seeing my therapist again, and I’m trying this time. Trying to take the advice to heart instead of just, you know, pretending to. And . . . I’ve got plans, Mom. Big plans.”
I look over my shoulder again, looking at the pale blue house behind me and thinking about the woman inside its walls.
“I love her. I love her in a way that still terrifies me, because I can’t imagine how I would handle losing her. I get it now, when they say you love someone so much it hurts. I love her so much my heart clenches in my chest and my arms ache to hold her. She’ll look at me, and suddenly it’s almost painful to breathe. In a lot of ways, Lucy’s been my sunrise. I didn’t realize how dark my life had been until she showed up, her light shining through the cracks. She’s turned my whole world upside down.”
I listen to the sound of the ocean, the crash of the waves against the shore and the caw of the seagulls above my head. And I feel my lips twitch a small smile.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about the last conversation we had. I lay on the hospital bed beside you, my head on your shoulder while you rubbed my hair. I remember thinking you should’ve been the one on my shoulder, how I should’ve been comforting you instead. You were the one dying, but you spent those last few hours comforting me, and Dad, and Willa. Anyway, I remember you running your fingers through my hair and telling me what an amazing life I was going to live. You said I was going to make the best husband to some woman one day, and I would be the best dad. But all I remember thinking was how much I was going to miss you.”
I feel tears prick behind my eyes as I squeeze them shut, my throat feeling like sandpaper as I clear it.
“And, God, Mom . . . I miss you so much. There’s nothing I want more than to have you here, to have seen the look on your face when I brought Lucy home for the first time. To scream and yell with you when Willa walks across that stage at graduation in a few years. To hear you singing in the kitchen while you make breakfast. I miss coming downstairs to you and Dad on the couch, talking quietly so you don’t wake up me and Willa. There are so many things they don’t tell you about grief. Like the way you grieve the life you lost just as much as you grieve the person. You had so much life left to live, Mom. So many memories that you didn’t get to make. You were supposed to help me fix my tie on my wedding day and keep Willa from crying on hers. You’re supposed to be here with us.”
My voice cracks and I squat down, my elbows on my knees as I run my hands through my hair.
“You’re supposed to be here, you should be here, but you aren’t. And I don’t pretend to know why. I know that there are some things that we just aren’t meant to understand this side of heaven, but that doesn’t make them any easier for those of us left behind. But I want you to know, I remember that life you dreamed up for me. I remember the words and the plans you whispered to me that night.”
I lift my head and look up at the clear blue sky, feeling the tears slide down my face.
“I’m trying, Mama. I’m trying to live the life you wanted for me. The life I want for me. And it breaks my heart that you aren’t here to dream and plan with me, but I think you’d be proud of the man I’m becoming. I think you’d be proud of the life I’m trying to build and the memories I’m going to make for the both of us.”
I hear a quiet sob and turn to find Lucy standing a few feet behind me. She’s in black leggings and a big sweatshirt that comes to her knees. It’s a faded gray Oak Island sweatshirt, and I have a small suspicion it belonged to her dad. Tears stream down her cheeks and she doesn’t try to wipe them away. I lift my chin a little, not bothering to hide my own tear-stained face.
“How long have you been standing there?” I ask, my voice sounding hoarse.
“Long enough,” she responds.
I shake my head. “We’ve gotta stop meeting like this.”
She chokes out a laugh and I smirk.
