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“What?” she says, giggling at me. I must be staring.
She’s easy to stare at.
“Any guesses yet?”
She slips her gaze out the front windshield, her eyes roving over the cars. It’s hard to see anything from this angle—even the amphitheater is hidden. But there is one sign.
I watch as her eyes roam left and then pause on the big cloth poster hanging up in the air, just yards away.
The Beatles: Tribute Band.
“John?” she pipes. “John Lennon?” Her mouth hangs in a wide-open smile.
“Well, an impersonator. It’s a tribute band. They dress like the Beatles. They sound like them—mostly. It’s the best I could do.”
She laughs. I wait for arms to be thrown around me in thanks, but instead, she pushes open her passenger door and slides from the truck seat. I follow after her and she snatches me by the hand, moving through the cars and the crowd, leading me to the entrance.
“I can’t believe you did this,” she says. “No, I take it back. I’m surprised, yes. But the fact that you found them and arranged this makes absolute sense.”
“It does?”
“It does,” she says, pausing her tug.
“And why’s that?” I say, mostly teasing her, but I’d like to hear that answer.
“Because, you know—you—”
“I what?”
“Youknow.”
I chuckle. Meredith—who says everything, is shy to say this. “Because, I love you?”
She stands in front of me, her face paling a little. Suddenly, she’s no longer in a hurry. “Well, do you?”
“I’m pretty sure we both know the answer to that question. Yes, Meredith. I love you. More than anything in this world, I love you.”
A sea of humans—sane and crazy alike—all swim toward the entrance to a Beatle Mania reenactment.
And we’ll get there. We will.
Right after I kiss my girl.
Epilogue
Levi
“I’m so glad you’re over being a dummy.” Coco sighs without looking up from changing her baby daughter. “This is the least dumb you’ve been since we met.” My sister chuckles to herself.
This again?
“I wasn’t ever a dummy. I just wanted to make sure—” I groan, my chest deflating. “Okay, I was a little dumb. But only out of good intention.” She loves bringing up her rightness and my wrongness—still. Weeks later.
“Dumb intention.” She scoops up chubby-cheeked Lulabelle, cradling her in her arms.
Mom’s got new photos on the walls. I scan my eyes over Coco’s family with Jude and both her daughters, of the photo of all five kids together—the day we got our Coco back, and then Mom with all of her kids. It’s easy to imagine Meredith on this wall, standing next to me.
“Can you be nice?” I say to her. “That’s done. It was weeks ago.” I hold my arms out for my niece.
