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“Good. Now, how about you hop the fence and we spend some time unwrapping you?” He tugs at my waistband. And I grin.

“Ok. But you should know, we’re getting a dog.”

He pulls back. “That might be my line.” He cocks an eyebrow and gestures toward the window where the two of them are staring at us.

“It will be ok. Tuxedo and Other Cat will get used to it.”

I kiss him again with the sound of the ocean and forever strumming in my ears, and throughout my body. Then I stop, grab his arm, and look at his watch.

“Eight forty-five a.m.”

He grins and pulls me back to him. “Ah. Our third first kiss.”

“Third time’s a charm.” His lips return to mine and my skin prickles with excitement and forever, just like it did when I was thirteen.

THE END

Epilogue

Ethan

I love being back here. It’s home. I never thought it would be when we moved here a decade ago. It was a hot minute after we moved in before my mother started plotting to fuse the two houses together. Granted, she was out of work and not used to sitting around. With everything off her plate except Fletch and I, and the horror show of a dog she chose, she began sketching and coming up with a business plan. The elderly, farted-up, mangy, sweetie of a dog lasted only four and half years, but the business thrives to this day.

But with each new plan for the houses, they would both look at them and decide they’re perfect the way they are. Instead of combining them into one house, they joined them. They built a bridge. They blew out the walls that faced each other and built a large glass tunnel to connect the two houses and fused the decks together.

We ripped out the kitchen from Fletch’s house and made that into a bigger family room. Then built a mega kitchen in Mom’s house. There are four bedrooms now, three in Fletch’s old house and one in Mom’s. The rest of the space in Mom’s house became a studio where she meets her interior design clients. Everyone freaks over the see-through walkway. She barely has to sell them on an idea, she just shows them our crazy Frankenstein houses.

Fletch hung a small shingle next door to Mom’s home goods shop in “downtown” Edgartown. And that’s how life became perfect. By downsizing everything. From our house, to their careers, their expectations of others, and their responsibilities. I mean, they still hammered me for every ‘C’ I got, but they backed off after I actually graduated from Boston University. They see the Turners, like, ten times a year. The physical distance between them is nothing. Meg and Jake are very much a part of our lives and always will be if I have anything to say about it.

Everyone who matters is in this room. Even Beetinamom, Aunt Kera, and Uncle Rich are here. My cousin, too, who is a full-on tween now, but she and Pearl Turner are off somewhere hiding right now. Jonah Turner, Ben’s little brother, is out on tour with his band and couldn’t be here, but sent a video and a song. My grandfather’s not here—despite giving it a go with me, we never really connected. We share emails and jokes, but nothing more. He missed the boat, and I’m cool with it. He’s the same way with my mom because she pulled back to dive into her own life for once. He still lives on my uncle’s property, and to my knowledge, doesn’t drink.

I’m staring at the ocean through the back glass windows. I tell people I grew up in Martha’s Vineyard because it’s where so much of what shaped me has happened. I always say I’m from here. When they eventually got married, the ramshackle dog limped up the aisle with a ring-bearer’s pillow strapped to its back, right out on our beach. She refused to let the cats be part of the ceremony. But my dad showed up with his new wife, and the whole thing was strangely normal. As if it’s the way things were supposed to be. This view is where life happened for all of us. It’s ours.

I clink my spoon on my glass and stand up. I raise my wine at my mom and Fletch. “Six years—”

Meg interrupts me, “And thirty before that.”

My mom narrows her eyes. “Look who’s talking, Mrs. Turner.” They both laugh. Jake kisses Meg on the top of her head.

I say, “Back to me. I traveled for this shit. I get to toast six years of wedded bliss. I’m—”

Beetinamom stands up, and I let her. “I just want to say one thing, is that ok?” I nod and sit back down while my grandmother whirrs on about what’s essential in life. For her, it’s fillers and tattooed eyeliner, and I love that it makes her happy. She feels beautiful in her skin, and I can only hope that for the rest of us. But I can’t focus on what she’s saying.

My heart is racing, and my glass might slip from my hands. It’s still super weird to drink with my mom and Fletch. They think it’s funny to offer me Scotch, which I can never touch again after that night. I’m full of nerves. After college, I moved back to Chicago. I have a job with a production company doing video shoots and whatnot for now. The goal is New York or LA to really get my animation career off the ground. I’ve been lucky enough to pitch some shorts here and there to some people my dad knows. I got one on Adult Swim at 10:55 p.m., and it felt like I won an Oscar.

Chicago is a moment because I was drawn back there. I don’t regret it, but I wish I could see Mom and Fletch more often. I still talk to them every day. Fletch is the reason I’m able to do what I’m about to do. And Jake is the other.

They both fell in love with their fated mates when they were young. They fell into devastating, all-encompassing true love, and then did shit about it for fucking decades. In my mind, the patriarchs in my world wasted a lot of fucking time. It was a long-ass time before they had the balls to live and claim their romantic destinies. I don’t want to be that way. It’s not how I was raised. No waiting. No secrets, and always go after what you want. They both cautioned me, but whether I knew it or not, my fate was sealed when I was eleven years old.

It’s my turn again, and Fletch nods and winks at me. Jake grins. Meg and Mom are clueless, but I address both men specifically.

“You’ve both taught me pretty much everything about being a man. Except how to dress. I just can’t with the plaid, or ironic rock T-shirts and blazers.” Everyone laughs.

My mother clears her throat. “You’re not a man. You’re my bear.”

I roll my eyes. “Mom, I’m happy you were smart enough—with my encouragement, of course—to get out of your own way. To lay down some of your self-imposed responsibilities and find your way to Fletch.” Everyone clinks glasses, and I smile at the one person at the table who means more to me than all of them.

I turn back to the whole table. “And Fletch, thank you for not being dumb enough to run away from us.”