I shake my head and explain how I can’t seem to bring in or out anything extra that might have the ability to change history. Notes, journals, even how my phone turns off when I’m there.
“He has sets of clothes for me ’cause I can’t even bring an overnight bag.” We both laugh as I tell her about the “loungewear” he bought for me.
“Sweet boy,” she says as she wipes a lone tear from her crinkling eye.
I tell her about the plan, and she nods along as she finishes her glass of wine. “I think it’s going to work,” she says when I’m done talking. “I think you guys can do it. Isthere anythingIcan do to help? Do you want me to travel back with you?”
I twirl my glass in my hand as I think everything through. “I love you for asking, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. I don’t know how the magic works, and the last thing I would want to happen is for you to get stuck in the past. It’s better for you if you stay here. But thank you.”
“Okay, but you say the word, and I’ll be there. I’ve got your back.” Leaning forward, she studies me a bit before asking, “What’s going on in your head right now? You look like you’re running through a mental checklist or something.”
“Ha,” I chuckle as I fall back deeper into the couch. “That’s because I am.”
“What’s next on your list?”
“I’m trying to figure out when the demolition is going to start. I know it’s happening on the twenty-third, but I have no idea what time yet.”
“Let me take that load off you, okay?” She places a reassuring hand on my arm. “I can be very persuasive when trying to get answers. Give me the info, and I’ll find out the time.”
The weight that is lifted off my shoulders from that offer is indescribable. I pull her in for another hug, sniffling back any tears that are threatening to fall. “Pri, that’s too much. Thank you!”
“That’s what friends are for.”
We end up staying up far too late for the time our shift starts in the morning, but it’s nice to laugh with her. I hope and pray that one day soon, I can introduce Dylan to my best friend in the world.
Chapter Forty-Two
The next two weeks are filled with both joy and anticipation of what’s coming. I spend every weekend with Dylan and even some evenings too, constantly checking behind my back to make sure no one sees me go inside and parking my car in town instead of at the lighthouse. The odd time, I’ll drive by and pass a camera crew doing a news story on Killick Point. It’s clearly not lost on anyone that the lighthouse is getting demolished on the thirty-second anniversary of Dylan’s death. That makes for some good news, especially in a small town.
With my uniform stored safely in my car, I get up before the crack of dawn and leave him curled up on the couch with a cup of coffee, hell-bent on waking up with me and seeing me off on the mornings I can spend with him.
My days at the cafe are on autopilot. I fumble my way through my job, but because the creamer’s doing well, it’s felt like a saving grace, carrying me through. And I feel so much lighter now that I’ve told Priya the truth. She can still see that I’m in a bit of a faraway place in my mind, but she knows me enough not to press any more. She’s been desperatelytrying to get an answer from the building department about what time the demolition is happening and has been lucky enough to finally speak to someone. They told her they don’t have a set time yet but are aiming for after lunch. It’s infuriating not knowing more, but I’m grateful for the sliver of information we’ve been given.
Dylan and I have talked through our plan more times than I can count. On the twenty-third, we’re going to set up the barricades all along the edge. We’ll wait outside all day, hoping that when the boys come, it will either be us or the barricades that force them to turn around and go back. Then, when we’re sure it’s safe, Dylan is going to come with me through the red door. Fingers crossed everything times out with the construction crew as well.
It’s simple. It’s straightforward. And I hope like hell it works.
It’s officially October 22.
I don’t know how we got to this day so fast, but I’m in my car, driving to Dylan for the last time. I said my goodbyes to Priya, pulling her in for an extra-long hug. “Tomorrow is either going to be the best or the worst day of my life,” I said as she squeezed me tight.
“It’ll be okay, Lucy. You’ve got this.” She blew me a kiss and then said she’d see me on the other side.
As I sneak into the lighthouse through the paint-stripped red door, the sound of soft jazz music makes its way down the stairs to greet me. The beautiful and sultry tune calms me from the inside out. I race up the stairs and find Dylan in the kitchen, holding a wooden spoon, stirring something aromatic in a pot.
“Why, hello, Chef,” I say with the widest grin I can muster as I drop my purse and walk over to him. He places the spoon on the counter and brings my arms around his neck, followed by his own around my waist. We begin to gently sway in the kitchen, our feet never leaving the ground, locked on each other, the golden flecks in his emerald-green eyes dancing in the light. He pulls away from me momentarily to walk over to the stove, flicking off the element before coming back.
Then we move together, the two of us, in his little kitchen, unable to remove our gaze from each other. He brings his index finger and thumb up to my chin, tilting it up toward him. “Whatever happens tomorrow, Lucy Brooks,” he starts, his voice just above a whisper, “please know that you are the love of my life. I am better for having met you.” He wipes the lone tear that decided to fall before he leans in and brings his mouth to my lips, enveloping me in the softest kiss. I sigh into him as his tongue finds mine, dancing together as we stay locked.
We dance for a few songs, holding each other tightly, and I think it’s a moment we’ve both needed. A slow pace together. We keep kissing, and I pull his head down toward mine, getting him as close to me as I can.
Our kiss turns heady and feverish as he pushes me back, ravaging me with his tongue. I let out a whimper when he runs his hand up my side and wraps it around my neck, giving a light squeeze before nibbling my bottom lip. “I want you, Dylan,” I sigh.
The feel of his body pushing mine against the counter is pure heaven. Then two strong arms lift me up, and I’m being propped up onto the counter, my legs spread as Dylan fills the space between them. “There isn’t a word to describe how much Ineedyou,” he responds between kisses.
He splays a hand on my chest, running it along the bare skin before touching the fabric of the button-up maroon sleeveless shirt I threw on with jeans after work today. It’s a thicker material, keeping me warm in the brisk temperature, but I don’t miss the way Dylan’s eyes drag over the low cut at my chest and down to where the shirt ends, a hint of my stomach peeking out. He works to undo the buttons, starting from the top and moving down. The stiff fabric falls open as he makes quick work of each one, and when he undoes the last, I shrug the shirt off, letting it slide off the counter and down onto the floor below us.
He lets out a loud growl as he takes in the sight of me, sitting in front of him in a white cotton bra with stitched sunflowers. His fingers trace the raised needlework over my perked nipple, and I bite my lip in anticipation, looking up at him with so much want. He brings his mouth down over my bra and sucks through the fabric, his long hair falling loose around his face.
