Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 128083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
“Of course I do.” She didn’t mention that she’d just been thinking about that and wondering if things had gone differently . . . how maybe . . . but, well, what was the use of maybes when that time was so long gone?
He smiled again, and this one was sort of secretive, and it made her smile back. He let go of her hand and brushed his hair back. “I used to often wonder what was going through your mind,” he said, and it sounded like a confession. “But the time I want to ask about is that day at Hollis’s pool. Right before you saw me, you were staring off at the trees, and you had this look on your face . . . Is there any chance you remember what you were thinking? Because I wondered about that, my whole walk home, and I never got the answer.”
She felt a ripple of warmth, and that hook in her heart loosened. He looked a little embarrassed, and it was a vulnerable thing to ask, and it made her feel warm and honored and slightly shy too. But the most surprising part was that he’d remembered that moment, and she was almost shocked that she did too. But she did. As soon as he’d mentioned it, she’d traveled right back. She’d actually thought about it before this. Maybe it was because it was less than an hour prior to her world tipping into the abyss. It was the figurative before. The clear sky ahead of the storm. And all her what-ifs started just before that moment.
“I was thinking about endings,” she told him.
His eyes roamed over her face, and she was struck by the recollection of that same intensity of interest that had been on his face that day. It was part of what had drawn her to him, even if she hadn’t recognized that at the time. “Endings?” he asked.
“I was thinking about how there’s always a last time for everything. That last hug. That last playdate. The last time your mom reads you a certain book. Big things, small things, and everything in between.” She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, feeling seventeen, standing in the sunshine, the breeze whispering through the trees. “I was thinking of the lasts that we don’t know are the lasts at the time, and if we did . . .” Her voice trailed off. She wasn’t exactly sure how to finish that thought.
“If we did, we’d pay more attention,” he said.
She opened her eyes and their gazes met. “Yes.” She looked away and managed a smile, even if it felt sad. “And it’s so . . . I don’t know.” She furrowed her brow. “Is it ironic? Sad? Funny? The fact that I was thinking about that right before I lost every last and every new with my mom and my sister.”
He was quiet for a moment as she gathered herself. Below, the water ebbed and flowed. She appreciated that he didn’t try to fill the space with a sorry that wasn’t his and that she didn’t need. She’d heard that word so much over the last decade. And she knew it was said out of kindness, but sometimes she wished people would be more specific because sorry seemed so easy. And that was unfair of her, she knew that. People meant well. They meant sorry. They cared and they didn’t know specifically what to say, and so that word encompassed it all. But again, she was glad that she didn’t have to nod and say thank you in that specific moment.
“I think it’s good that we usually don’t know when a last is a last,” he finally said.
She tipped her head in question. “Why? You just said we’d appreciate them more if we knew.”
“No, I said we’d pay attention. And when you’re focusing on something, especially if it’s an end, you can’t enjoy it. The last time wouldn’t feel like the last time. The time before that would.”
She laughed. “There you go, complicating things again,” she said, harkening back to their conversation that final August day that had turned out to be its own last. She paused, though, and considered what he’d said. “But I agree. I think it’s right and . . . good that we have no idea when we’re experiencing a last. The beauty is in the oblivion and in the ordinary.”
He smiled. It was slow and it was unknowingly sexy, and it made her nerves flutter in her tummy. “I hope talking with you like this isn’t a last,” he said, meeting her eyes and not looking away.
She smiled and she felt a little overwhelmed and slightly nervous, too, and so she took the teasing route. “Well, I’ll tell you what. How about it’s the first time I beat your ass at that big pool table inside, but not the last.” They’d agreed to take shifts watching Cyrus, but she wasn’t remotely tired, and they could only sit out here staring at the ocean for so long.