I could go on ice cream dates with the old Demetrius for the rest of my life and count myself happy.
I look back down Main Street at the familiar Tuesday-evening scenery. Old Mr. Prewitt with his basset hound doing his slow loop passes the hardware store. The lights come on in the windows of the Wandering Gnome as Mathilda, the gnome owner of the diner, lights them up on every table. The late-May air carries the good smell of things in bloom, something sweet on top of the usual salt-and-iodine of the ocean.
Saltford Bay in the early evening is the same as it's always been. The same oaks, the same light going warm and sideways through the leaves, the same handful of people strolling by.
But I don't feel the same. I'm so different now, I'm almost surprised people recognize me. I don't know if it's being with Demetrius or if it's the cherry ice cream, but something in me has been upgraded.
New Maddie. Bolder, happier, more confident. I like the sound of that almost as much as I love the feel of Demetrius's big, strong hand at the small of my back.
Demetrius finishes his cone before I'm halfway through mine, which isn't surprising because he is enormous. He crumples the napkin and drops it in the bin at the corner and then he takes my free hand in his like it's the most natural thing in the world. I love it more than words can say.
We walk and make small talk. It's surprisingly easy.
The waterfront piers are two blocks from Main Street, down the familiar cobblestone that runs past the harbormaster's office and the bait shop. The old wood of the pier planks goes pale in the late sun.
There are a few other people out. A young naga couple by the railing at the far end, tails coiled together as they giggle and talk low. Two troll teenagers sitting on the dock, dangling their fishing rods. Someone's dog, off its leash, trotting with great personal purpose toward a smell only it can identify.
Demetrius's thumb brushes the back of my hand as we walk and I look out at the harbor and let myself feel it.
Happy. I'm happy. Not performing happy. Nope. I'm just plain, uncomplicated happy.
I don't even remember a time I felt like that.
Well, that's not true. The last time I felt this happy, this unbothered and in the moment, was the last time I walked this pier with Demetrius. That felt like a lifetime ago and so close, at the same time.
I finish the last of my cone and crumple the napkin, then shove it in my pocket. Demetrius glances down at me with just the ghost of a smirk. I preempt him.
"Don't."
"I wasn't going to say anything," he says. He absolutely was going to say something.
"You were going to comment on my double scoop cone. And I would have told you that I have no regrets."
I bump his arm with my shoulder, which lands somewhere around his elbow, since he's so much taller than me.
"That is not even close to where I was aiming," I inform him.
His lips lift into a serene, satisfied smile. The kind of smile that makes me forget what I was about to say.
He turns to me on the pier with the evening light at his back and the harbor spread out behind him. I look up at him, and then he ducks his head and kisses me. His free hand comes up to my jaw, like he needs to hold my face in place, and then his lips close on mine, slow and unhurried and thorough. The kiss deepens, his tongue sliding in, and I open my mouth. He invades it eagerly, his taste mingling with mine, vanilla and sweet.
My toes curl inside my sandals.
I did not think that was an actually literal thing that happened to people. I always assumed it was a figure of speech. I amhere to report that it is, in fact, completely literal, and I am experiencing it right now.
Just when my lungs are about to burst, Demetrius pulls back and looks at me, a smile just starting to show.
"You were right," he says.
"About?"
"Two scoops are better than one."
I chuckle and his fingers loosen from my jaw and slide to the back of my neck and I tip my head into his palm like some kind of extremely smitten golden retriever, which is embarrassing and also I cannot stop.
"Next time," I say.
"Next time," he agrees.
