EPILOGUE

FIRST SATURDAY OF AUGUST


She went.

She knew it was futile, but she went anyway. The first year it was a sunny, picture-perfect day, the water on the lake sparkling, endless double rows of footsteps in the sand as couples roamed up and down the beach. She thought at one point she saw him but was wrong, and she’d gone home aching, swearing not to try again.

She went the next year too. There was a freak rainstorm, and seeing she was the only person on the beach, she’d taken off all her clothes and lay down in the sand just to see how it made her feel. She wished he’d been there. She wondered what he was doing and if he ever dreamed of the tree house.

The year after, back from her first year as a psych major in college, Decca made her come to a performance of a new play she was starring in instead. The play was in an open-air theater, and when Sadie arrived she’d almost fainted. It was Bucky’s theater, still overgrown and lovely, but restored enough to be usable.

Sadie’s vision felt like it was vibrating between past and present—that’s where Ford and Bucky had stood, that’s the catwalk they ran over, there’s Ford with a group of people and a pregnant woman, that’s the—

Her eye moved back. It was him. With his arm around a pretty dark-haired woman who was definitely having a baby. Good for him, Sadie told herself, looking for a place to hide.

Mason loped over to the group, grabbed the woman, and kissed her in a way that made it clear she was his and no one else’s. Good for Mason, Sadie thought, good for everyone, my god, it’s him.

He looked 200 percent better than even her best imagination had painted him, the same but a little more lived in, more rugged. His smile hadn’t changed, though, the capacity to be mischievous or boyish, a dimple that could tease you coming and going.

“Are you going to say hello?”

Sadie turned to see a girl with impish blue eyes and blond chin-length hair. “Lulu?”

“Mostly Louisa now,” she said with a smile that started bold but ended shy. “So? Are you?”

Sadie shook her head, her lips pressed together. “No. I don’t—”

“He dreams about you,” Lulu said.

Sadie swallowed a lump. “How do you know?”

“You’ll have to talk to him and find out,” Lulu said, wiggling her eyebrows.

“I really don’t think it would be—”

“Lulu, are you handing out programs or picking pock—” His eyes met hers, and it was like there was no one else there, no one else in the world.

Sadie couldn’t find any words. She couldn’t breathe. Neither of them spoke, just stared at each other.

“Did you design this?” Sadie asked finally, seeing the picture of him on the back of the programs Lulu was holding.

“A friend of mine did,” he said, still staring at her. “I just restored it.”

“It’s beautiful.” Her eyes didn’t leave his.

“Breathtaking,” he said.

Lulu said, “Please meet, because I want to invite Sadie to my birthday party. Sadie, this is Ford, my brother. Ford, this is Sadie.”

“Sadie,” he repeated, savoring it. He glanced at Lulu. “How do you two know each other?”

“We met a few years ago,” Lulu told him. “She helped a friend of mine.”

“Will you come to Lulu’s birthday party?” he said. “It’s going to be about a hundred fourteen-year-olds and me.”

“Mom’s in Paris on a painting course,” Lulu explained. “With her boyfriend.”

Sadie blinked back tears. “I’d love to.”

“We’re having it at our house on Ladyvine Street,” Ford put in. “It has a tree house—”

“—with a rocking horse head on the wall,” Sadie said.

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