Page 44 of Something About September

“Don’t you have Pip?”

“He’s been invited to a sleepover party. I’m on my own.”

Rebecca felt her heart do a small somersault. “What did you have in mind?”

“Dinner?” he said. “Not in town. Somewhere we can actually talk without people taking notes for the town newsletter, for example.”

She laughed. “We’re definitely providing the grist for the rumor mill this week. Should we go to Milltown?”

“I was thinking Evergreen. You mentioned it the other day, and you haven’t been in ages. We can get takeout from Gill’s and bring blankets and have a fire on the beach. I know it gets chilly at night this time of year, but”—he lowered his voice—“I do have ways of keeping you warm.”

She laughed. “That sounds perfect. I’d love to. What time?”

“I’ll pick you up at six.”

It was hours away, an eternity considering the way she was feeling, and she had plenty to keep her busy, but still, it was happening. Rebecca found herself grinning into the air of the empty apartment after she hung up, and the sense of excitement buoyed her. She spent the rest of the day in a pleasant haze of productivity, managing to finish clearing out the last of the diner kitchen cupboards. They were empty and clean, ready for whatever would come next. She closed their doors without thinking too hard about what that was. Just stay in the moment, she told herself. Just for today. You don’t have to analyze everything.

By five thirty, she’d changed clothes three times and settled on a long skirt, ankle boots, and a tank top with a soft burgundy sweater layered on top, a denim jacket folded over her arm for later, when the temperature dropped. She had braided her hair loosely over one shoulder.

Cort arrived precisely at six, wearing dark jeans and a white tank top under a charcoal-and-black flannel that made his gray eyes look almost silver. His hair was damp from a recent shower, and he smelled the way he always did: like sawdust, like cedar, like freshly shampooed hair.

“You look beautiful,” he said simply. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” she said honestly. “It’s been barely twenty-four hours and it feels like a week.” It felt good to be this honest with him, but it also sparked something deep inside that felt almost like fear. She was letting go, and it felt good in the moment—but also like she was careening toward something. But again, she forced herself to stay in the moment, to just be where she was. With him. He kissed her lightly, then led her toward his truck, and she stepped up into the cab.

The drive to Evergreen took twenty minutes, and they talked easily about the progress on the diner, Pip’s latest obsession with paleontology after watching Jurassic World the night before, everything and nothing. As they talked, Cort’s playlist created a warm, nostalgic backdrop. Magnetic Fields, Fleet Foxes, Iron & Wine, all the bands she had loved so much in high school. That they had loved, it turned out. That he had listened to, while thinking of her. It felt like she was going back in time, and she felt warmth bloom in her chest at the thought.

Soon, they were driving down Evergreen’s Main Street and pulling up in front of Gill’s Fish & Chips & Bait & Tackle, a tiny place right on the waterfront that was a local institution. “Whoa, there’s a line,” Rebecca said.

“Yeah, people come from far and wide to eat Gill’s fish ’n’ chips and sample Carrie’s cookies,” Cort said.

“That’s great. Small-town businesses can be tough to keep going. Lenore was always lucky, having the only diner in town and sort of the go-to place for everyone. But it doesn’t always work that way.”

They ordered at the counter—fish and chips for both, plus sodas that came in glass bottles—and waited while the older man behind the counter wrapped their food in newspaper.

Rebecca carried the food and drinks, while Cort unloaded blankets and low folding chairs from the back of his truck into his arms. “Come on, I know the perfect spot.”

He led her down a narrow path that wound through tall grass to a small stretch of sandy beach. The lake spilled out before them, mirror calm and reflecting the golden light of the setting sun. Its banks were lined with trees, like a patchwork quilt of coniferous green and deciduous golds, reds, and oranges. A few other couples and families were scattered along the shore, but it felt private, peaceful.

Cort spread one of the blankets on the sand and they settled down with their food, the warm packages filling the air with the scent of fried fish and vinegar.

“This is just the way I remember it,” Rebecca said after her first bite. The fish was perfectly crispy, the chips golden and salty. “I forgot how much I missed Gill’s. Nothing in Toronto can compare.”

“Really?” Cort opened his soda with a satisfying pop. “I figured you’d have found so many places in the city you thought were better than you could get here. It’s Pip’s favorite, too. He’s going to be so excited that I brought you here.”

“He is?” Rebecca smiled.

“Are you kidding? You’re his favorite person after that giant pumpkin rescue night.”

As they ate and chatted, they watched the sun sink low until it was below the tree line and the air began to cool.

Cort moved closer, draping a blanket around both their shoulders. “Better?” he asked.

“Much,” she murmured, very aware of his thigh pressed against hers, the way his arm curved around her shoulders under the blanket.

The disappearing sun was painting the sky in shades of gold, pink, deep orange. When the sunset was over, Cort gathered driftwood and twigs and built a small fire in a circle of stones that had clearly been used for the same purpose many times before.

“Very outdoorsy of you,” Rebecca said.