I don’t answer right away, still focused on getting a feel for driving this thing. Can’t show weakness. The road stretches out in front of us, fields on either side. It’s not lost on me that this was Lottie’s home, and she’s leaving it all behind.
“Tell him I’m not your fiancé…yet.” I sneak a look at her to tease her, but she stares back with wide eyes and a pouty grin that undoes me. I can’t believe how lucky I am. “But you are my queen.” The word queen lands softly, not heavy like I’ve been practicing it for an entire decade.
She smiles, her eyelids lowering sweetly. “No one’s ever said something like that to me without wanting something in return.”
“Well, you better get used to it, because from here on out, it’s you and me—and you’re all I see.” I take a left onto the highway and head off into our next chapter.
Epilogue
The Following July
Theolddockcreaksin the familiar way that welcomes us, but that’s not important. What’s important is the lake looks exactly how it’s supposed to. Like July. Wearing Ty’s holey hockey jersey with pride, I lean back, my bare feet dangling inches above the surface. I hardly take the jersey off when I’m at the house, except for washing it, but it’s by far my favorite thing to lounge in.
“Do you remember,” Ty says, tipping his head back as he relaxes and gazes at the blue sky above, “that time you were wearing Ham’s big flip-flops and you lost your balance andtripped while you were running down this dock, and you dumped your ice water all over me?”
“I did not dump it,” I say, laughing. “I shared it lovingly with you.”
“Oh, is that what you are calling it?”
“Yes, I was being thoughtful.” I grin at the memory. “I remember you laughed so hard, because I fell in the water.”
“I remember thinking”—he glances at me, his eyes soft— “that I was actually a little glad it happened, because you grabbed a towel and tried to help wipe my arm off. I was so shy, I could barely speak. You touching me was too much.”
“Yeah, right.” I tease back. “That was, like, so many years ago. You didn’t like me then. That was the summer you brought that girlfriend here.”
He blinks. “What girlfriend?”
I turn onto my side, propping my head on my hand. “Oh, come on. What was her name? Brinley or was it Brenna? Talk about flip-flops—her high-heel wedges clomped the ground when she walked. Talk about annoying.”
“You’re making this up.” He shakes his head. “She was not my girlfriend.”
“Am not.” I gesture with my hands as I go on, “She had this smile—kind of upside down, only showing her bottom teeth. I couldn’t make that face if I tried.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “I don’t remember her at all.”
“Please, now you’re lying, because you know she was annoying! There is no way you could forget the way she clung to you like you were her pet.”
“I genuinely have no idea who you’re talking about,” he says. “But apparently you wrote her autobiography. What’s up with that?”
I shrug, smiling at the lake. “I might have been jealous.”
“Interesting.” He nods. “Maybe I brought her here for that reason.”
“Wait. What?” I whip my head toward him. “So you do remember her! You’re lying. Was she actually your girlfriend?”
He just smiles—the maddening, lazy grin that gives nothing away. “I might have had my own fake-date situation going on—for my very own important reasons.”
“Stop! You did not.” I narrow my eyes as I dip my toes in the water and splash water at him.
He doesn’t even flinch when a generous splash washes over his legs. “I don’t remember exactly anymore, but she’s not important.” He reaches out, brushing the edge of my jersey. “You know,” he says casually, “I wish you wouldn’t wear my name all the time.”
“What does that mean?” I frown. “You gave me this jersey. Are you embarrassed?”
Sighing, he leans forward and grabs something from the cooler at his side. It’s rolled up tight, and he holds it out. “Put this on.”
“I don’t need a towel,” I say automatically.
“It’s not a towel.” He pushes it forward. “This one doesn’t have a hole in it either.”
