Corey Ellis, looking stressed, eyes wide, mouthing at me to unlock the goddamn door right this second.
“Where have you guys been?” he demands after I do what he asks. He’s ripped open the door and is glaring down at me.
I look up at him, confused. “What are you talking about? We were here all morning setting up. You know that. You were there too.”
He blinks. “Right. Well, where have you been now?”
“At home,” I tell him slowly. “Which you also knew, seeing as how we all left to go get ready.”
“Stop being so reasonable!” he says shrilly. “There is a crisis.”
I groan. “What the hell is it now?”
The setup had gone rather smoothly, the tent pitched, chairs placed, balloons tied to posts strung with lights. We’d had a lot of help, so it hadn’t taken long, especially with Ty’s explicit directions as to how everything should look.
Corey glances into the back seat, seeing the twins watching him intently, waiting for the moment when they get to go hug Uncle Corey, because they hadn’t gotten to see him yet. Corey leans forward and whispers in my ear, “He’s freaking out.”
“About what?”
“Everything.”
“Perfect,” I mutter. “Because of course he is. There’s nothing wrong. We did everything like he asked.”
“That’s what I told him. And I am an expert at weddings, because I helped throw that one for Paul and Vince years ago. And I am damn good at what I do.”
“Where is he?” I ask.
“Down the beach near Mrs. Paquinn,” Corey says. “I told him I’d wait for you guys up here and send you down to him when you arrived. I’ll help Izzie with the munchkins if you and Otter want to go find him.”
“He wants me too?” Otter asks, sounding surprised.
“Yes,” Corey says, sounding bemused. “Why wouldn’t he? You three are a package deal. Now, get out of the car and let me see my babies.”
“We’re not babies,” Lily tells him. “We’re four.”
“You’re still my babies,” Corey says, and Lily just melts.
“You okay with them?” I ask Izzie.
She waves a hand dismissively. “Go. I’ll make sure Noah doesn’t tell people he doesn’t eat boogers anymore.”
“Because that’s gross and they belong in tissues and not in my mouth,” Noah recites dutifully.
Otter and I are out of the car and walking hand in hand away from the stairs that lead to the beach where people are undoubtedly gathering, waiting for the festivities to start. The July sun is bright, and the breeze is filled with salt. Beach grass blows gently as we leave the pavement, taking off our shoes, the sand warm beneath our feet. The waves are crashing be
low as we crest a hill, and he’s there. The Kid, sitting on the beach on a towel next to a cross, looking out onto the water.
Otter squeezes my hand as we start down the hill. Ty must hear us coming, because he looks over at us, shoulders a little tense. He relaxes a little at the sight of us, shaking his head ruefully.
He’s handsome in his suit, his tie lying beside him, collar open at his throat, feet bare. The wind is blowing through his hair, and I remember the days when it was just him and me here, the sky above covered in gray clouds, the two of us walking side by side, his little hand in mine as he pointed out a crab and a shell and sea glass that he needed, and please, Papa Bear, could he just take it home with us? It’d look so good in our room, and it was so pretty.
It’s hard to believe it’s been twenty years since then.
But here we are.
After everything.
“Hey,” I say.