The clogs, a half-size too small, scraped against the sand-covered cobblestone as I wandered down Harbor Street. I shivered and grimaced as another icy gust whipped against my skin. A few of the Main Street shops poured amber light onto the street—many adjusted their hours for the tourist season—so I aimlessly wandered across the road like a gnat to a lamp.
Georgie’s Pottery Shop across the street glowed with warmth. I lifted my foot to hustle over for shelter, then frowned and put it back down. Past the row of trees, and her striped awning, and the display of ferns on her windowsill, two figures moved in tandem.
A tiny smile lifted my lips as I watched Georgie and Rhett dance. Apparently gone to the world, adrift in whatever melody played beyond the whistling breeze and shifting branches. He looked stiff and unrhythmic next to her, but she didn’t seem to care, throwing her head back and twirling until the flowers on her dress blurred with motion.
Something hot trailed down my cheek. Swiping it with my finger, I peered down my nose at the shining tear like an alien had taken over my body. When did I start crying?
My phone buzzed in the pocket of my pajama pants, shaking me from whatever strange feeling gripped my stomach. I squinted as it came to life and nearly blinded me in the shadows of the sidewalk.
A towering wave of nausea promptly washed over me.
Serena Zayas: I’M ENGAGED! Coming home tomorrow to scout venues! xoxo
Because, apparently, the only thing I could count on these days was being thrown for a loop.
CHAPTER TEN
2018
The morning after the dance, the world looked too ordinary. Frost-tipped lawns glittering under the sun, cars idling down Main Street, the faint smell of coffee and brine—all of it so normal that my chest ached.
Teddy texted me to meet him at Bluebell Point.
He sat on the tailgate of his Jeep when I got there, hair pushed back under a cap, fixated on the screen of his camera. He looked up when he heard the sand crunching beneath my boots, and for a second, it almost felt as if nothing had changed.
“You were right,” he said. “About the beach.”
“Huh?”
He smiled faintly, eyes trained on the water beyond the lighthouse. “Got into the program in Santa Barbara. They called this morning.”
The words twisted around my stomach like barbed wire. “That’s great,” I managed, after a beat.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “It is.”
I waited for him to say, “We’ll figure it out,” but the silence stretched as thin and brittle as ice. The waves slapped against the narrow peninsula’s craggy face, the frigid ocean wind nipping my cheeks.
“So, California,” I said, forcing a smile. “That’s… far.”
He peered at me then, his expression soft with something dangerously close to regret. “You’re going to NYU,” he said matter-of-factly. “It’s what you’ve always wanted.”
“I told you I was thinking of deferring,” I said quietly. “Staying another year.”
He froze, eyes flicking away. “Margot—”
“I know what you’re going to say,” I cut in. “But it’s just one year, and—”
“M, no.” His voice gentled, but there was something final in it. “You can’t plan your life around me.”
I laughed, sharp and small. “That’s not what I’m doing.”
He studied me, and I hated the look in his eyes—the mix of pity and something like guilt.
“I thought we—” I started, but a gust of wind swallowed the rest.
He set the camera aside and stood, close enough that I could see the tiny freckles along his nose. “You’re one of my best friends,” he said quietly. “You know that, right?”
The words shouldn’t have hurt. “Yeah,” I said. “I know.”
