Epilogue

It's July on the lake. Sunny, sticky, hot. David says some other house across the way typically puts on a firework display, but Francesca's insisting that he go to the store and get some for us to set off.

"We need to celebrate!" she says, waving her margarita around.

David eyes the box of sparklers on the ground. "That should be fine for the kids. What are we celebrating, exactly?"

She's sitting in a lawn chair beside me, tickling her red, white and blue fingernails on my knee. "This is the first summer Vee has been back to the lake. We didn't do this last year. My dad is with us. That's a lot to celebrate."

I glance at my father. His hand is on Alice's back, helping her climb the planks of the tree house. He's not in a suit, for once, but his legs are completely covered and it's ninety-five degrees out. He smiles when she grabs Grayson's telescope, pretending to be a pirate.

We've not spoken since Thanksgiving. We exchanged polite nods, but that's it. He's always been more comfortable with Francesca, more likely to stay a day longer for Christmas with the kids. I couldn't have been more shocked to see him arrive yesterday.

Maybe one day he'll tell me why he doesn't approve of Adam, why he never came home, why he didn't care for us enough. Maybe I'll ask him about my mother, what she meant to him. For now, we're in the same room and there's been zero bloodshed or name calling or a single mention of the incident last Autumn.

David argues, "I'm not setting off explosions."

"Fireworks, Dave," she corrects.

"They're explosive devices and they're dangerous. Haven't you seen those Ring camera videos?" He makes an exasperated sound. "When did I become the safe one? You've swung way too far the other way."

She sings, " You've created a monster ."

"Dinner is ready!" Heddy calls out from the back door.

Kate lays on a towel in the yard, her skin pinker than her bikini. "Vee, will you fix me a plate?" she begs.

I brush chip dust off my jean shorts. I tip some out from the fold in my tank top. "Sure. Are you gluten-free this month?"

She thinks on it. "Not today."

"Dairy free?"

"Actually, I think my body functions better on cheese."

I agree, "Me too."

"Two hot dogs, please," she says flipping to her stomach.

I walk up the lawn, past the hot grill where Diego puts another patty on the fire. He says, "Hamburgers will be ready soon."

Inside the house, the blender roars again, blasting the noise through the kitchen. Caroline sets out plastic cups and Maggie pours margaritas in them. Heddy pushes Copper down when he puts his paws on the table of food.

"Someone get this dog outside!" she orders.

Grayson squeezes his juice box and says, "Come on Copper, come on boy!" They run out the door together.

I frown, searching the kitchen and the living room for a specific someone. Everyone else is accounted for. I thought he was helping Diego on the grill.

I open the front door, the heat of summer on my bare arms, the sun pounding into my eyes. Someone walks down the street with a large box in his arms. Will I ever not feel a surge of emotion when I see him?

Shaking my head, I ask Adam, "What are you doing with that?"

He smiles. "It's a secret."

"It's fireworks."

"Yeah, and these are the big ones. Not those baby sticks Dave got."

"He told you not to get any," I say. "He's too scared."

Adam moves his hair to the side, longer and floppier than ever before, and rubs his scratchy beard on my cheek. The box falls to the ground. He kisses my jaw and catches my hips in his hands.

"I'm not afraid," he says. "And I'll be damned if these kids don't get the summer of their dreams."

I hang my arms around his shoulders. "The kids?"

"Yes."

"I think you mean the summer of your dreams. That danger box is purely selfish."

"Fine," he growls into the crook of my neck. He pulls back and smirks. "Although, I don't need anything in this box to make fireworks. I can make my own. You know the ones. You love my fireworks."

" Adam ," I warn, motioning to the open front door. Then: "Aren't fireworks bad for the environment and the wildlife?"

His eyes roll around, thinking. " Yes . If I was able to do a drone display, I would. But I can't. I'm more of an eighty, twenty kind of guy anyway."

"I'm not going to report you to an environmentalist group," I say.

"Last summer of fireworks, I promise." He grimaces. "I just really like fire."

"Don't tell that to the man who's already afraid you're going to burn the house down."

He chuckles and swings me into the air. "And for the record, this is the best summer of my life, Vee."

I'm suspended in the air, his arms under my hips. I trace my fingertips around his face. "Even better than fourteen years ago?" I ask.

He leans up to kiss me. "Yes. Because now I can do that and let everyone see." He puts me back down, and we go inside for dinner.

After wards, David reluctantly lets Adam set off his fireworks. For dessert, I have leftover cookies from a birthday party I catered last week and a new layered ice cream recipe I'm trying. On the kitchen counter, I set out some brownies and tarts from the last batch of goods I delivered to the market in Loxley.

Heddy has me running Minerals And Magic since she caught the former manager stealing crystals. The living room in my apartment is packed with the teaching supplies I didn't sell. Only those things and some furniture remain in Atlanta. Adam and I filled boxes into his truck and they're sitting in the basement here until I decide where to go next. For right now, I have a home I don't ever need to leave, a lease that's up in a month, a job that's mine until I want it and a budding catering business I call, Rose Bakehouse.

The kids will stay another month with me up here, while Heddy, David, and Francesca come and go when they have the time off. I'll take Alice to dance camp next week. Grayson has soccer on Tuesday and Thursday.

Adam will be with me and the kids at the lake through July, until my birthday. Before I know it, we will have spent a year together. A year I wouldn't have thought existed last summer.

His new album is about to come out. He spent all of January writing and recording at a studio in Atlanta. During the day, that is. At night, he'd come home to me and Copper. We walked to coffee shops and dinner. I met friends from his high school, and he met my friends from work. A few times we were photographed together, he's recognized all of the time, but things between us and outside world have been relatively normal.

I'm scared for when it's not. For what comes next. But, as my therapist has been telling me, it's not my responsibility to worry about future events that haven't happened, and I can't let fear affect my relationship.

Because I love him. If that means his Instagram gets bombarded with questions about the woman's elbow that appears sometimes in his stories, I'll take it. He was right – we have the same life, one where we want to be together. Whatever comes, comes, and I'll handle it with Adam by my side.

With the porch light on, Grayson and Alice come onto the lawn in their pajamas. Francesca says, "The kids have come to say goodnight."

Alice comes up beside my chair and says, "Auntie Vee, read us a story."

My left hand is tangled up in Adam's next to me.

"Oh, I'll take the night off and let mommy read to you," I say. "Show her where I keep my books."

Grayson gives me a six-year old's version of a forced hug.

Before can he leave, I say, "You can sleep back in your old room tonight, Gray. My room."

He frowns. "But where will you sleep?"

Adam runs his thumb along mine. He teases, "Yeah Vienna. Where will you sleep?"

"I'll find a spot," I tell Grayson.

He walks off and Adam leans into my ear. "Speaking of…" he whispers. He stands from the lawn chair, pulling me to my feet. "Vee and I are going to turn in, too," he tells the others.

From the door, Francesca shouts, " Boo !"

Maggie smiles. "You don't want to hang out and watch the fireworks across the lake? I can make more margaritas?"

I sink into the side of Adam. We've already begun walking backwards towards the woods. "I think I'm good," I say.

"We're very familiar with fireworks, thank you for your concern," Adam replies with a turned head.

His arm squeezes into my waist and I lean my head against his shoulder. Our feet crackle leaves and snap twigs. I feel the weightlessness of my own body as it presses safely into his. The soft touch of his fingers. The smell of his skin.

I used to see his face in my mind at the first mention of summer. He belonged in the sunshine, ice cream, the splash of the lake. I don't think that anymore. To me, Adam is the coziness of winter, the freshness of the spring.

He's autumn.

Old pain has fallen, died off, making room for new blooms. The regret and animosity I carried for years has become something new – forgiveness and boldness, the realization that I don't exist in one season, either. Every version of myself deserves to have its day in the sun. Without the past, I'd have no future.

And, oh , what a future it will be.