Epilogue

June 2024

By some miracle, our plan works.

Fred moves in and we make the house ours instead of his or mine or my family's.

I learn what Fred is like in the fall—he looks amazing in sweaters.

I learn what Fred is like in winter—like a kid at Christmas, and on Christmas itself, happy in fleece pajamas unwrapping present after present because we've decided to make up for all the Christmases we missed together.

And I learn what Fred is like in spring—a little melancholy from the lack of sun and spontaneous, whisking us away to a sunny weekend so he can lie on the beach and smile; and then, after we get back, so happy to see the world turning green, the flowers pushing through the ground, that he picks me up and spins me around and around.

I love all of the Freds, but I love my summer Fred most of all.

I offer to let my dad live with us, but he prefers to go to the retirement community. He's made some friends there, and there's maybe even a woman, though he's shy about admitting it. Maybe Aunt Tracy will get it out of him when she comes to visit this summer.

I make the same offer to Charlotte, but she's happy with her cottage, and there's a man in her life too. A friend of James's that she meets at the winery when we all gather there for a Friendsgiving dinner. His name is Ben, and he's a bit quirky, but it seems to suit Charlotte. I would've guessed she'd never introduce another partner to us again after what happened with Ann, but I'm glad to see I'm wrong.

Sophie and Colin are still house hunting, but I think that's on purpose. They enjoy the fights, the battles. It's what keeps it fresh between them. Or so she says, anyway. Who am I to judge? Colin's happily working for Fred, and Sophie's on the board of her kid's school, busy and excited to come out to the house on the weekends and let the boys run around the lawn for hours on end. We've grown closer this year, and I'm happy about that.

In the end, we don't call the police on Ann and Wes. I just file the paperwork to end the marriage I never should have agreed to, and we exchange documents through lawyers. He's never reached out, never tried to give me any other excuses than the ones he's already offered, and I am okay with that. I let him go and didn't look back.

I'm trying to look forward.

I don't go back to teaching. Fred was happy to get a place in New York and live there most of the time if I wanted to, but I found I didn't. I liked the kids most of the time, but I never felt easy in that life. The city was too much of everything and probably part of the reason I felt so far from myself.

But I've been keeping busy.

"You all packed?" Fred asks me. I'm sitting on the floor in the conservatory off the kitchen, surrounded by suitcases and tennis gear. It's sunny out, the first day of summer approaching fast. It's light out now after dinner, and the grass is green and lush.

I glance up at him. He's wearing slacks and a light blue button-down that's my favorite color on him. He just got a haircut too, and he looks delicious. "Yes and no?"

"Which is it?"

I look around at the suitcases and tennis bags and boxes of shoes. "I feel like there's too much stuff and also like I'm missing something."

"You are."

He takes my hand and helps me up. I fall against him in a way that would have been awkward a year ago. Now it's just an opportunity to put my arms around his waist and nuzzle into his neck. I drink him in, that mix of woods and the beach.

"Don't distract me," he says.

"From what?"

"From this."

He takes my hand and holds it in front of him. Then he takes a ring out of his pocket and slips it on my ring finger.

It's a solitaire, tasteful, beautiful, exactly what I would have picked for myself.

Like Fred.

I stare at it, surprised, happy, nervous. "Is this what I think it is?"

"What do you think?"

"I think I want you to ask me."

He smiles, then drops to one knee. "Like this?"

I laugh. "Go on."

"Olivia Anne Taylor, I've loved you since I was seventeen. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Not because I'm sad, but because I'm happy. I've been so happy this last year and I don't want to jinx it. I don't want anything to change.

"It won't jinx it," Fred says.

"What?"

"Us getting married. Me proposing. It's okay this time."

"How did you read my mind?"

"I read your face. And also, I know you."

"Are you sure?"

"I am."

I stare into his eyes. There are no doubts there. There never were. The doubts were always mine.

But I know why, now. I've only loved one person as much as I love Fred, and she left me.

I can face that fear. The past doesn't have to repeat itself. That's something else I've learned—my mom was taking stock of her life and regretting some of her choices as she watched her time wind down. It doesn't mean she wasn't happy. And she'd want me to grab whatever happiness I could, I'm sure of it.

"Olivia? I'm kind of dying here."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Yes, yes, I'll marry you—of course I will."

I fall to my knees and we kiss. It's slow and lingering, and if I didn't have a plane to catch in a couple of hours, I'd pull him to the ground and get lost for the rest of the day.

He holds the sides of my face. "One more thing."

"What's that."

"I'm coming with you to London."

"You sure?"

"I am one hundred percent going to be there for the start of your comeback and as far as it takes you."

"I'll probably lose in the first round."

We stand up together. "I don't think even you believe that."

"Okay, I don't, but I'm old for tennis. Especially as a woman."

"You're in the best shape of your life."

I kiss him. "It takes more than that."

"You're happy, though, about going back on tour? Wimbledon?"

"I chose it, didn't it?"

And I had. It had started as a thought experiment. If I gave myself over to it for a year, what could I achieve? And then I'd played in a tournament for fun and won. And then another. Pretty soon I was collecting ranking points. But most of all I loved playing again. I loved the competition. I loved pushing myself to the limit. How my body felt, even though it was sore.

"You did. And you chose me."

"I did."

"Regrets?"

"None."

"I have some."

"Oh?" I say, my heart fluttering.

"Only that we didn't do this sooner."

I laugh. "No, no, this was the perfect time. We weren't ready before."

He leans his forehead against mine. "I think sometimes about the lost time."

"I think about all the time we have left."

"That's wise." He brings my hand to his lips and kisses the diamond. "You said yes."

"You were worried?"

"Well …"

I look at it sparkling in the sunlight. "When did you buy this, anyway?"

He mouths turns into a guilty smile. "If I say last summer, would that surprise you?"

"Nope."

"Last summer."

"When last summer?"

"I think I'll plead the fifth on that one."

"Hmm. I'll get it out of you eventually."

"I have no doubt."

My watch buzzes with a reminder. "If you're coming, we should get a move on."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll meet you in the driveway in thirty minutes."

"Sounds like a plan."

We grin at each other and kiss again, and it's lighter now because this is not a goodbye, but another step in our next beginning.

Whatever happens in London will be what it is. There's always the clay court season after that if I feel like it. And beyond that, I know that Fred and I will have summer after summer to build our future.

And all the seasons in between too.