It was the last thing she wanted to do, really. But she couldn’t exactly stand out there by herself all night. She said, “Sure.”
When she saw that the photo booth company was called Making Memories, she almost turned away. But Sam already had hats and boas and Minecraft sunglasses picked out, so they threw on their accessories and ducked through the black curtain.
They had four exposures coming.
First one: regular ole smiles and Minecraft.
Second one: tongues out, her two fingers behind Sam’s head, boas.
Third one: eyebrows raised, hands up like looking confused, hats.
And for the fourth one, Sam pulled her toward him and kissed her hard and she didn’t like it.
Back out in the ballroom, they took off their props and waited by the photo delivery slot. Sam reached for them first.
“They came out good,” he said.
Avery took them and didn’t recognize herself at all.
“You guys!” the bride said as she blew past them in a waft of champagne and mini crab cakes. “You are just too cute.” She hugged Sam. “This is absolutely the best day of my life.”
Avery fake-beamed and wished for a different kind of prop op tion—a mask that might hide who she was—until the bride moved on. Her cheeks hurt when she released the smile.
Scarlett
For a second, she thought it had to be a cruel joke.
Haven’t seen you in a while.
Like in eleven years, ha-ha.
But the guy looked calm.
Happy to see them, even.
And now Scarlett didn’t feel as alone on that cliff as before.
Someone else had been there.
Seen her.
Borne witness to . . .
“You know us?” she asked.
“How do you know us?” Lucas said.
“From here. You used to come here.” Confusion seeping into the guard’s features. “But not in a while now. Like a couple of months, maybe?”
“How did we get here?” Scarlett asked. “Which direction did we come from? Was anyone else ever with us?”
“I don’t know.” His confusion seemed to morph into suspicion now. “It’s not like I was watching you. I saw you, is all. You seemed like a cute couple. I figured when you stopped showing up you’d split up or something.”
“We were a couple?” Scarlett asked.
He nodded. “Well, you were holding hands. Kissing. But I had a theory about you.”
“What kind of theory?” Lucas asked.
“You were always in a hurry. Always looking over your shoulders. I figured one of you was getting some on the side.”
/
/
/
/
Getting some.
/
/
On the side?
Oh.
Awkward.
Scarlett found a flawed seam on her skirt, followed it to where it ended.
Took a breath, then looked up. “Do you remember anything about what I was wearing?”
Maybe black jeans and T-shirts had been all they had?
Lucas said, “Scarlett, I don’t think he’s going—”
“I actually do,” the guard said. “You had this jacket that was hard to forget. Old-fashioned-looking. Like vintage, you know? Or more like homemade. It was like a quilt, if that makes any sense?”
“Yes,” Scarlett said, her fingers feeling funny, her foot tapping. “That makes perfect sense.”
“You wore it all the time. Even when it was like a gazillion degrees.”
Why would she do that?
“Were we ever with anyone else?” Lucas asked.
“Not that I can think of,” the man said slowly; then his eyes sparked. “Hey, wait a second . . . You’re those kids.”
Scarlett turned to Lucas.
Shared a look:
Concern, yes.
Panic, no.
“Yes,” Lucas admitted. “Are you sure you didn’t just . . . see us on the news? You’re sure you saw us here before?”
“I’m sure.” The guard nodded. “I yelled at you once. For carving your initials into the pier.”
“Where?” Scarlett asked. “Which one?”
“Middle one. Down the end on the right somewhere.”
She took off . . .
Not quite running . . .
But . . .
Lucas was saying, “Thanks for your time” and “Can I get your name and number in case the police want to follow up?”
But she was halfway gone, back down toward the beach.
And when she got to the end of the pier, she felt happy for a moment—even fearless—just standing there, with the air full of seagulls and salty mist.
This was the place they’d found to be together.
This was where they must have plotted their lives together, their escape.
She’d swallowed the penny to bring them back here. It had worked!
They were going to figure it out.
They were going to get it all back.
Then she found their initials, in a heart—but stabbed over and over so that they were almost entirely obscured.
And everything churned.
Guns.
Metal.
Tattoos.
Escape.
Running.
Love.
Heartbreak.
Betrayal.
Lucas arrived, breathing hard from walking so fast.
She nodded at the initials, ran her fingers over the splintered wood. “Why do you think they’re crossed out?”
“Could have been anybody who did that,” he said. “For no reason at all.”