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Abbie shook her head vigorously. “It was all you. You work hard. You own your mistakes. Just like she said.”
It was suddenly hard to breathe, but I managed to choke out, “Maybe the lesson here is that we make a good team?”
Abbie grinned, and then she kissed me. “You bet we do.”
We left The Stop and crossed Main Street, then set off for the bonfire stones at the end of the Bay. My phone rang, and after pausing to check the screen in case it was Mum calling about Seb, I flashed the screen at Abbie before holding the phone to my ear.
“Dylan,” I said. “What’s up?”
“Nothing much,” he replied. “I just saw your post about you and Abbie, and I wanted to call and say congratulations. Guess your moves worked in the end.”
I laughed as Abbie gave me a bemused look, and I winked at her. “Yeah, I guess they did.”
“And Seb’s a fucking cute kid, man.”
“Won’t argue on that.”
“How did things go at the poker tournament?” There was an awkward pause. “Aunt Lori told me you had a big night.”
“Yeah.” I flexed knuckles that burned with the memory of connecting with Tristan’s putrid face. “There was a fight.”
“The way I hear it, he deserved it.”
I shrugged. “He did, but I was a dumbass to do it on camera.”
“Won’t argue about that.”
I huffed out a laugh and looked out over the horizon. The smell of smoke floated in the air, and in the distance, a bright orange bonfire licked at the purpling twilight sky. It created a picture I’d seen a thousand times over the years but somehow never got old. “And how are things over there? Izzy doing great things?”
“Izzy’s a fucking ballbuster in a tutu,” he said with a smile in his voice. “She’s awesome.”
“And the estate?” Things were tough for Dylan and his sister, Charlie, who had been running their family vineyard after their parents died. They had two other brothers and another sister, but only Dylan and Charlie had stayed on at Silver Leaf to keep the place running.
“It’s, uh…” Dylan was quiet for a moment. “It’s been better.”
My good mood gave way to a pang of guilt. It was hard to be happy when people you cared about were in trouble, and recent experiences made me extra sympathetic to Dylan’s struggles. I dropped my voice a little. “I’m sorry, mate. Nobody understands better than me.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” Dylan sighed. “So, listen. It’s late here, and I’ve got an early start at the restaurant tomorrow. I was just checking in, and seriously, Will. I’m happy for you and Abbie. And the business stuff… that’ll work itself out. You’ve got your boy, and you got the girl. That’s a good life right there.”
I glanced at Abbie again, and her impatient curiosity made me grin. I did have a good life, and Abbie and Seb made that possible. I bopped her on the nose to make her smile. “Thanks, Dylan. I appreciate it.”
I ended the call as Abbie and I stepped onto gold sand, still warm from the day’s heat, and we started towards the fire hand in hand. Eight shadowed shapes circled it, some standing, others sitting on driftwood logs, and I knew everyone so well I could pick them out from even this distance. Josh and Emily. Logan and Jess. Isaac and Birdie. Luca and Tash. All laughing and talking and drinking bottled cocktails and beers from the business I built.
I squeezed Abbie’s hand and ran my eyes over her familiar features. I’d know those honey-brown eyes, those pale freckles, the wisps of golden curls around her hairline and the coconut scent of her skin anywhere. Dylan was right. It was a good life, and my girl was the reason why.
Epilogue
One Year Later
Will
I tugged at the sleeves of my cream-coloured jacket, then fidgeted with the collar of my white dress shirt. It was almost sunset, so the air wasn’t too warm, but I was hot. My heart thumped erratically, and every time I glanced at my watch to check how long I’d been waiting, it only ever showed another minute had passed by.
I wasn’t nervous. I was impatient.
I stood on the beach under a simple timber arch draped with rippling ivory chiffon and wreathed with bouquets of pink and white flowers. The hum of the ocean was a familiar comfort, as was the endless blue sky spanning overhead. On either side of an aisle that Logan had constructed from lengths of distressed wooden planks were rows of timber chairs. About half of them were still empty, but they were filling up fast as the guests atmy and Abbie’s wedding trekked from Main Street. Josh, Logan, Isaac, and Luca ushered each person into a suitable position as I returned their congratulatory nods and abstractly noted how good they all looked. The women in long, flowing dresses and flowery hair pieces. The men in dress pants and shirts, most without jackets. No ties. No shoes. Kids in the kind of clothes they’d never wear again and would ruin the minute the ceremony was finished. Everyone in some shade of white or cream and muted pink.
I shifted and forced myself to breathe. Not nervous. Impatient.
