Henry was sitting on the ground, his back against a tree, the sunlight dappling through the leaves and falling onto his face. He glanced up at me, even though I hadn’t spoken, and pushed himself to his feet.
“Hi,” I said. I let myself really look at him, in a way I hadn’t since we split up. It wasn’t like when I’d first seen him this summer and noticed only how cute he was. This time, I saw the kindness in his eyes. I saw how lonely his hand looked without mine to hold it.
“Hi,” he replied. There was a question in his voice, and I knew he was probably wondering what I was doing there.
“Thank you for coming,” I said, and I saw that he understood I meant the funeral. “I really appreciated it.”
“Of course,” he said. He gave me a sad smile. “I really, really liked your dad.” I heard the past tense and nodded, not really trusting myself to reply. “And I thought you gave a great speech. I was really proud of you, Taylor.”
I looked at him, with that lock of hair falling over his forehead, and I wanted to reach up and push it back. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to tell him all the things I’d been feeling, all along, even if I hadn’t really let myself feel them until now.
“So,” he said, sliding his hands into his pockets. “What are you doing in the woods? Are you lost?”
“No,” I said, and as I did, I realized just how true this was. “I’m not lost.” I took a breath. I realized that what I was about to do went against everything I’d ever done. It was confronting everything I was the most scared of. But my father had wanted me to move past this. And I knew, somewhere inside, that it was time. And that this was the place, and Henry was the person. “I got scared,” I said. “And I should never have pushed you away like that.”
Henry nodded and looked down at the ground. There was a long silence, punctuated only by the rustling of leaves and the occasional bird call, and I knew I had to keep going.
“I was just wondering,” I said, “how you felt about second chances.” As I waited, I could feel my heart pound hard, wondering what he was thinking. As excruciating as this was, I had a feeling it was better to be facing it full-on—not running away and hiding and ducking. But out in the sunlight, putting my heart out and watching to see how it was received.
He looked up at me, then started to smile. “I guess it would depend on the context,” he said slowly. “But generally, I’m in favor of them.” I smiled back, for what felt like the first time in days. I knew we still had things to talk about, and so much to figure out. But I had a feeling that we could manage it together.
As I took a step toward Henry, closing the distance between us, I thought about those words we’d carved, years ago, on the dock—our names. And Forever. In the instant before I stretched up to kiss him, I hoped that they just might turn out to be true.
chapter forty
I PULLED MY SWEATER A LITTLE MORE TIGHTLY AROUND MY shoulders and sat back on the damp grass. It was almost September, and already starting to get chilly. The leaves that had been so brilliantly green all summer were starting to change just slightly, edging toward oranges and reds and gold. Even though I’d been coming here often since they put the marker in, it managed to still make me smile, groan, and miss my father, all at the same time.
We’d found his instructions for it with his will. Though he would be buried in Stanwich, he’d wanted a marker here, in Lake Phoenix, where he’d spent some of his best days. Warren hadn’t believed that he was serious about what he wanted on it, but as I’d told him, there was nothing my father took more seriously than puns. So here, in the small Lake Phoenix cemetery, was the single punny epitaph: ROBIN EDWARDS. BELOVED HUSBAND AND FATHER… THE DEFENSE RESTS.