ONE – THE LETTERS

 

One more.

Another. And another.

My lungs are on fire as I push myself to swim just one more lap, which I know is what I’ve been telling myself for the past fifteen minutes, but this time, it’s true. I’m thoroughly exhausted, and if I try another after this one, I very well might sink to the bottom of the pool and never come back up.

But fatigue is good. Fatigue means being able to get back home and fall asleep right away, letting emptiness swallow me whole instead of lying awake thinking about everything I’ve lost.

It’s almost 5:00 p.m. by the time I drag myself out of the pool and walk to the lockers. My entire body is in pain, trapezius screaming when I lift my arms to turn the shower on. I’ve probably swam more laps in the past three days than I have in five years. While my muscles are not happy with me, I like it. Better to focus on that kind of pain than the one that has been inhabiting me since I left Ogunquit.

Violet hasn’t contacted me since I packed my bags and walked out of her life. Not a peep. At first, I thought maybe she’d call, at least so we could have a talk and maybe get a clean goodbye, but apparently that’s not in her plans, and I’m not about to make the first move. Not when I’ve spent an entire summer groveling to get her to forgive me. It would be pathetic of me to hang on to her when she clearly cannot want me like she did before.

That’s the logical part of me speaking. The emotional, aching man who lost the love of his life is not of the same opinion. That innermost part of me is begging me to crawl back to her, to beg at her feet for her to forgive me and to continue doing so until she finally relents. But that wouldn’t be respecting myself, and it also wouldn’t be respecting her. She’s been so thoroughly hurt in the past, and the last thing I want to do is cause her more pain. She doesn’t deserve that. She should be happy and live so with the people who allow her to be, which apparently is not me. I thought I could bring her happiness, but if the last day by her side has taught me anything, it’s that my presence only hurts her.

How fucked up is that? We both love each other. That has never been the question. I had my doubts at the beginning of the summer, when she wouldn’t even look me in the eye, but in the last few weeks, I’ve seen it. I’ve felt it when we made love, and when she kissed me, and when she smiled at me like I was her whole world. Like she did that last summer in the beach house together. As for me, there has never been any doubts about my feelings for her. It didn’t matter how many years had passed apart from her. She was still the queen of my heart, and no girl could ever come close. It’s not like I’ve been celibate in the years spent away from her, but even then, I was never fully in the moment with someone else. I’d be fucking someone for the pure relief of it, but imagining it was Violet under me, moaning my name. Is that messed up? Of course it is, but it’s not like I could do something about it.

Once my hair and body is washed and all the soap suds have left my body, I step out of the shower and get dressed. 5:15 p.m. Still so long before it becomes socially acceptable to go to bed. Maybe I could nap, though. It would cut the evening in two. More tolerable.

Fuck. How am I going to survive this? It’s only been a few days and I’m already back to the half-living man I was before seeing her again. I would pray it would pass, but first, I know that’s impossible, and second, I don’t really want it to. Because if that feeling passed, then it would mean I’d have forgotten her, and that would be a crime. It doesn’t matter that the eight weeks we spent together ended badly and contained moments of pain and suffering, because the majority of that time was so beautiful. We smiled and laughed and loved, and that is sacred to me. Those moments cannot be taken away from me. They’re mine, to cherish and remember forever. That’s pretty much what I wrote in my letter to Amy yesterday, after I’d gone through a whole pack of Oreo and still felt empty.

I’m not sure why I still write those letters. At first, when I started right after that fateful summer, it was to direct my anger and frustration at someone, but now it’s probably just to express what I’m feeling in some form. Even when I was with my therapist years ago, there would be some things I wouldn’t utter out loud. I would keep some of my feelings to myself, maybe in the fear that she would tell me to move on from Violet when I wasn’t ready to do so. As if I ever would. But with Amy, I can always be one hundred percent honest. It’s not like she’s ever going to read them. Still, it feels good to address someone. Like it’s not just me and my thoughts.

God, this is bad. I need to take my mind off things. Swimming has helped, but it was temporary. Maybe I could go see Sam. We could have dinner, and if I’m lucky, she won’t ask me about Violet and what happened this summer. Grabbing my bag and closing my locker behind me, I text my sister.

Me: Want to grab dinner tonight?

The city’s heat crushes me the second I exit the gym. Not exactly the breezy air of Ogunquit, but the warmth could be reminiscent of a day at the beach. If I close my eyes, I can almost forget where I am and pretend I’m back there. Smell it. The salty tang of the ocean mixed with the unique scent of the beach house and the strawberry shampoo Violet uses.

Why does every single fucking memory bring me back to her?

I look down at my phone as I make the trek back to my apartment, but Sam isn’t answering even though I can see she’s seen my text. I frown. She never ignores me.

Me: ?

A minute later, another “seen” appears on the screen, but still no answer.

What’s up with her?

I reach my apartment building, but don’t look up as I climb the stairs to my unit. Instead, I watch the three little dots come and go on the screen, signs of Sam typing but not sending anything.

Something’s not right. If she didn’t want to see me tonight, she’d just say so. My thumb hovers over the “call” button as I grab my keys from my bag and insert them in the lock, but I freeze when I meet no resistance.

I always lock my door. Always.

Putting my phone away, I brace to have to face some intruder, but when I open the door and take in the sight inside my living room, I freeze once again.

She’s here.

My heart threatens to rip out of my chest as I try to figure out what’s going on. The small figure I could recognize by feel alone is kneeling on my carpeted floor, blond hair messy and draped over her shoulders.

I must be dreaming.

The sound of the door opening makes her look up, her pretty pink cheeks wet, eyes glistening. I stay silent for a moment, trying to remember how to speak, then croak, “Violet? What… What are you doing in here?”

I continue examining the scene in front of me, hoping I’ll make sense of it, but when my gaze lands on what’s in her hands, my mouth dries and my mind empties.

My letters. The ones I thought no one would ever read.

“Oh,” I say like a dumbass.

She’s literally getting glimpses into my mind, and that is both the most terrifying thing I have ever experienced and a relief of sort.

Slowly, I close the door behind him and step inside, and still, she remains silent. What is she even thinking? Have my words scared her off? Does she finally understand how much I love her? Is she creeped out that I was writing letters about her to her mother? Yeah, she must be. It’s fucking weird.

God, she’s so fucking beautiful standing there inside my place, like she belongs there. I can imagine finding golden hair in the shower and seeing her panties stranded on my couch on laundry day. The image of her sitting in the living room with me while we binge-watch a Netflix series is clear in my head, a dream I’d so desperately want to become reality. And the fact that she’s here…I’m filled with hope, for the first time in days. Maybe I shouldn’t, but she’s made her way to me, and that has to mean something.

I must be watching her like a deer in the headlights because she doesn’t approach me. Instead, she crosses her legs and sits back, tears still running down her face. I pray to whatever god is listening that they’re tears of joy.

I’m about to break the silence and ask her to end my misery and tell me why she’s here when finally, she speaks.

And it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever hear.

“I love you,” she says on a sigh, as if finally letting the truth go.

My head jerks up at her words, and I wait the other shoe to drop, for her to tell me she misspoke and that’s not what she meant, but she doesn’t. Instead, she stays silent.

“What did you say?” I ask then, because I need to be sure I haven’t made it up because it’s what I wanted to hear.

Her shoulders straighten, and while she didn’t seem sure before, now she’s full of confidence as she rises to her feet and comes to stand in front, her steps slow. “I said I love you, Will. I love you, and I’m so, so sorry for everything. I’ve made some mistakes, the worst one being letting you go. And I can’t promise I’ll be perfect from now on because I know I won’t, but I can promise you to try my very best every day. And I know I might need to grovel, but I’m ready for it. Tell me what you want. I’m not going anywhere.”

I don’t move an inch. I don’t even dare to breathe. I must really be imagining this. Yes, those are thoughts I believed she might have deep down, but I never in a hundred years would’ve expected her to say them unprompted, out loud.

“Please say something,” she says after what might be a moment or a lifetime.

Get your shit together, Seaberg.  

Forcing myself to swallow, I take a breath and say, “I’m sorry, baby, but you’ll need to say all that again. I’m still stuck on the ‘I love you’ part.”

She stares at me for a second, lips parted and eyes round, before the most beautiful sound on earth envelops me as she bursts out laughing. And despite the shitty days I’ve just had and the anxiety that was filling me mere minutes ago, I find myself joining her. My chuckles are different than usual. They sound disbelieving, as if I’m still unsure of what’s happening here. In truth, I’m pretty fucking scared this is only a dream and I’m about to wake up from a nap on my couch, alone and full of despair.

But she grounds me to the present moment by saying, “I think that’s the only thing that was really important.”

Please, Amy, let this be reality.

“You’re serious?” I ask, voice raw.

“Of course, I’m serious. You think I would’ve flown here for anyone?”

That’s exactly what I was asking myself, but she’s right. It wouldn’t make any sense. If she’s here, it has to be for a good reason. But it still feels so surreal that when I take a step in her direction, it’s slow and wary.

“So what does it mean? You want us to date?” It sounds stupid said like this. As if we were two people who’d just met, and not lifelong soulmates. But I have to ask it anyway. If that’s not what she meant, I need to know now, because my mind has already started making up scenarios. Me proposing. Us getting married. Having children. Growing old together.

Violet shakes her head softly, and I feel a thousand-pound weight land on my shoulders. Fuck.

“I don’t want to just date,” she says. “When you left, you said you wanted to be my forever. That’s what I want.”

And just like that, the weight is gone.

She wants me. She wants us.

I should be jumping and screaming, but I’m frozen in place, trying to wrap my head around the fact. It’s as if I’ve been two steps behind for this entire conversation, barely keeping up.

Violet eats up the distance that was left between us when I don’t answer and walks to me, her gorgeous dark eyes filled with what I really hope is love.

“I also want the house,” she says in that serious tone of hers.

I lift my brows. She wants me to sell our share?

She licks her lips. “I asked Dad and Nora and our siblings, and they all don’t mind if I stay there as long as they can visit whenever. And it’s where I want to live, Will. You were right. It’s my happy place.”

Live there. In the house that is so perfectly hers, as if built with her person in mind. When I arrived that first night of summer and the house was empty, it didn’t feel like the beach house. It’s not the place itself that’s magical, it’s what she makes of it, how she transforms the rooms and makes them a safe haven. I want her to have it all, forever. Even if that was the only thing she wanted from me, I’d give it to her, but somehow, she wants more, and I’ll give that to her too. I’ll give her everything. I don’t know what happened in the past three days that finally showed her we were meant to be together, but I’m so incredibly thankful for it.

She reaches for one of my hands, threading her fingers through mine. I still can’t believe this is happening. I’m touching her, feeling the heat of her skin. It’s not a dream, but just to prove it again, I squeeze her hands. She smiles.

“What… What about college?” I ask, again, like an imbecile. It’s not like it’s important to know those details now. She could tell me she’ll be traveling from Ogunquit to Syracuse every day and I’d say, “Great!” But I need to know that she’s thought about this. That there’s an actual plan and that she wants in. Really wants in, this time. I don’t think I would survive another break up.

“I’m not going back.”
“What?” I ask, brows furrowed.
“Agnes has offered me a spot at the gallery, and I’ve decided to take it. I don’t

know if it’s what I want to do for the rest of my life, but right now, it makes me happy. And maybe I’ll keep some time to paint too.”

My beautiful girl, finally finding her passion again. Lips curving into a grin, I say, “Yeah?”

She bobs her head. “The beach house is my home. And it’s yours too. If you want. I know you have your job here, but—”

“I don’t care about that. There are high schools everywhere,” I say immediately, because truly, I don’t. We can take care of the logistics later. The only thing I need to know is, “Are you in this for real?”

“I am.”

She’s in this. She’s thought it through and still wants me. The only reassurance I needed.

In one quick movement, I’m wrapped around her and my lips are on hers. She moans the moment our tongues connect, her fingers tugging at my hair the way she knows drives me crazy. I groan as I grab her ass and lift her so I can carry her to the couch. I need to feel her everywhere. The sound she makes and the taste of her will make me forget the hell that the past three days have been. I want to touch her, smell her, be inside her. I want to consume her just as she consumes me.

She pulls her head back, and I almost pout at the loss of her. Her smirk is mischievous and so damn cute as she says, “And I don’t get an ‘I love you’ back?”

My lips stretch in the biggest of smiles. “Oh, baby, I’ll give you a million.”

She kisses me again, and this time, it’s softer. As if we have all the time in the world to prove our love to each other. Still, I want to start now. I reach the couch as I kiss her cheekbone and say, “I love you.” I then repeat the motion on her nose, her chin, and then finish on her lips. I feel like I can’t tell her enough. She owns my whole damn heart and I want her to put all her trust in that.

Fingers scratching my scalp, she rocks her groin against mine, and I release a groan that’s nothing short of animalistic. She can’t do that again if she doesn’t want me to come on the spot. Boner testing my zipper, I drop us on the couch, then start pressing wet kisses on her neck. Fuck, she smells good. Tastes good. Feels good.

“The letters,” she whispers, head thrown back in pleasure. “I’m sorry I read them, but they were so beautiful.”

That’s what she’s thinking about right now? Really? I feel a corner of my lips tip up. “Now you know just how much I’ve always loved you.”

“If only you’d known how much it was reciprocated,” she says as she caresses my face.

She loves me. She really does.

“At least now, I think I do,” I say, feeling my cheeks warm which is stupid because that is definitely not the most intimate thing that’s been shared between us, but it kind of feels that way to me.

“I better hope so,” she says before kissing me again, and then we’re lost in each other’s body, drowning in the love we share. I swallow her cries and shudder at her touch, crave more even when she gives me everything. I can’t believe we’ll have this forever. How can I be such a lucky bastard? When I press myself inside her, it feels like something in the universe clicks into place, like we’re exactly where we should be. And when we come at the same time, her name on my breath and mine on hers, it’s the most magical and infinite moment I have ever felt.

 

 

 

TWO – THE WEDDING

 

I let out a deep breath as I fix my bowtie in the mirror, hands only slightly trembling.

“Nervous?”

I look behind me to find my cousin Aaron seated on the hotel room bed, dressed in the black suit and gray tie my groomsmen are wearing—I can’t wait to see Violet’s brothers in them. I’m sure Jensen is throwing a fit about dressing up for once, which makes it even more worth it.

“Nah,” I say.

“Liar.”

I smirk, caught. It’s not that I’m nervous about marrying Violet. I know she’s the one for me. She has been since we were born, and always, always will be. But this is still a wedding, with speeches and embarrassing d            ances and a million things that could go wrong, and I want everything to be perfect. For her.

“It’ll be better once I see her,” I end up saying.

“One night alone is all it takes to make you all stressed out?”

I lift a brow. “When you meet the love of your life, you’ll understand.”

“One day, maybe,” Aaron says, his smile dimming only a little. I pat his shoulder. He’s a good man. It’ll happen.

I look back to the mirror, but I can’t find anything else to fix. I look good, I think. My dark curls, freshly cut, have been tamed back with gel, my black tuxedo is wrinkle-free and fitted to a T, and even my shoes are clean and waxed. I’m as ready as can be. Still, I don’t think I’ve ever been this jittery in my life. I need to be married now. I can’t wait any longer. If it was up to me, Violet would already be my wife. I loved the idea of a big wedding with all our friends and family, but I also would’ve been more than fine it had been just her and me in a courtroom. The important part is that I spend the rest of my life with her. The rest is semantics. But she wanted this, so that’s what we’re doing. It will still be small, just a few of our closest friends and family members.

Turning back to Aaron, I say, “How long do we have left?”

He chuckles. “Great way to tell me I’m boring, cousin. And just a few minutes left.”

“Minutes?” I look down at my watch. We’re still two hours away from the ceremony.

He smirks. “You’ll see.”

I open my mouth to ask more, but just then, someone knocks at the door. Aaron gets up, looking smug in his suit. “This might be it, actually,” he says.

But when he opens the door, his smile disappears. After clearing his throat, he says in a stern voice, “David.”

Fuck.

“Dad?” I say, stepping closer behind Aaron. When I see it’s really him, a knot tightens my throat. We didn’t invite my father to the ceremony.

Aaron must realize this wasn’t planned because he says, “Will?”

“It’s fine,” I tell him. “I’ll meet you later.”
He doesn’t seem too happy to leave, but after I give him a nod, he exits the room, eyes wary.

Turning to my father, I say, “What are you—”

“I’m not here to mess things up, son,” he interrupts right away, hands braced in front of him. “I just want to talk.”

I continue watching him skeptically. Sure, in the past year, we have reconnected, more or less. I’ve seen him a couple times for dinner, but even then, we kept our conversations light and easy. We’ve had a few calls where Violet was present, but we never fully discussed all that happened between the three of us, and today sure as fuck isn’t the time.

“How did you know it was today?” I ask, jaw tight.

“Nora told me.” He swallows. “And I understand why you didn’t invite me, although it does sting.”
I don’t answer. What is there to say? At some point, I had to choose between my father and the love of my life. At nineteen, that choice wasn’t so easy, and the one I made was the biggest mistake of my life, but at twenty-four, I didn’t hesitate for a second in picking Violet. If my father didn’t want to support our relationship, then I didn’t want him involved.

Dad sighs. “Don’t worry, I’m not staying. Causing a scene is the last thing I want to do.” He buries his hands in his trouser pockets. “But I couldn’t not see my son on his wedding day.”

My lips stay pressed in a firm line.

“I never meant to cause you harm, but I can see how I did, and I’m really sorry about it,” he says, his eyes not quite meeting mine. “And I can see now that I was wrong anyway. You two are great together.”

“We are.” That, I can confirm.

A corner of his mouth twitches up. “I’m happy to hear that. I should’ve seen it from the start.”

I nod. I’m not sure why I’m still defensive with him. Throughout the times we saw each other in the past two years, I wasn’t that much, but this is a sensitive subject, and I don’t want to hear him say anything bad about Violet or our relationship. Although it doesn’t seem to be what he’s here to do today.

“So, anyway, I just wanted to say congratulations,” Dad declares, shoulders tense, “and that I’m so incredibly proud of you.”

My throat tightens again, this time for a different reason. In an ideal world, my dad would be here with me for the entirety of my wedding day, and he wouldn’t be a sore spot for me, my future wife, or the rest of our families. We’d be toasting to the future, and he’d be getting up after dinner to make a great speech, and Violet and I would be happy to have him with us. I wish that were the case. I wish he could stay and not cause any problems, but that’s not the way things are, and I have to accept it. Still, I’m surprisingly happy to see him this morning. I didn’t know I was still looking for his approval, but hearing that he sees how wrong he was makes me feel somewhat better.

“Thanks, Dad.”

Before I can talk myself out of it, I step forward and wrap him in a quick but tight hug. He squeezes me back, and I hear the way his breath catches.

“You look great,” he says when he pulls back. “Violet’s a lucky girl.”

“I’m the luckiest.”

He smiles tightly, and I try not to think about what he’s imagining right now. Is he thinking about Amy? I’m not foolish enough to believe they didn’t love each other, at least partly. I don’t know if that makes it better or worse, but I’m not going to linger on that. Today’s not about them, and what happened, happened. Their past is theirs, and I need to focus on us instead.

“Good luck today,” he says, then claps my back and turns around.

I watch him go, torn in two.

“Dad?” I end up calling as I step into the hallway.

He turns. “Yes?”

I hope Violet won’t kill me when she hears this, but, “I think if you stay in the back for the ceremony, it shouldn’t be a problem. If you want to be there, that is.”

He smiles, sincere and happy, eyes misting. “I’d like that.”

I nod again, then after a moment, walk back inside, closing the door behind me. Talk about a distraction. Got what I asked for, I guess.

I go make myself a glass of water and gulp it down. Just as I walk to the bed to sit down, another set of knocks comes from the door.

What now?

“Yes?” I say loudly, then go to open it. On the other side stands Alan, holding in his hands a…tie?

“I have been instructed to come get you and blindfold you,” he says solemnly.

I smirk, tilting my head. “You have something to tell me, Alan?”

He rolls his eyes. “What Violet wants, Violet gets.”

Laughing, I say, “Then I’ll have to oblige.”

“You better.”

I turn around and squat so Alan, who’s shorter than me, can wrap the tie around my head. As tense as the conversation I just had with my father was, this one is so very easy. Alan has been such a big part of our lives in the past two years. We see him at least every other week, sometimes with Ollie and Jensen, sometimes with his girlfriend, and sometimes just the three of us. I know how much Violet appreciates having him with us, but I love him just as much. I’m so grateful for him, in every sense of the way. Without him and my mother scheming together, I might never have reconnected with Violet. He’s literally the reason why we’re here, and after everything that happened between our families and with my father, he could easily hate my guts, but he never did, and I’m so thankful for his approval of us.

“So, where are we going?” I ask Alan as we start walking.

“Secret.”

“Should I be scared?”

“Sure,” Alan deadpans.

I laugh.

We walk for a long time, I assume through the beachside hotel where our wedding will be hosted later today. I accidentally knock into things a few times and Alan apologizes, although I think he’s enjoying himself more than he cares to admit.

Finally, we come to a halt, and after removing his hands from my shoulders, Alan says, “Now, I’m going to remove your blindfold, but only if you promise to listen to the rules.”

I comply.

Alan uncovers my eyes, then stands straight in front of me. I look around, not recognizing the place. It’s a three-season room, the late summer heat permeating the space, but a breeze still comes through the screens, making it nice.

“Something’s waiting for you next to this wall, but you can’t look,” Alan says.

“O…kay?”

“You can stand where I leave you, but that’s it. No peeking.”

“Sure.”

He inhales, then exhales. “But before that, I wanted to say something.”

He looks serious. Too serious.

“I’m giving away my little girl today.”

I fight back a smile.

“You don’t know this yet, but it’s not easy. You both have a whole life ahead of you and so many things that can possibly happen. It’s scary as hell, to think my baby is binding herself to someone for life.” He licks his lips, then meet me dead in the eyes and says, “But knowing it’s to you? That makes all the difference in the world.”

And here’s that knot again.

“I couldn’t have wished for anyone better for her. I know you’ll love her and care for her the way she deserves, and that is the best thing I could’ve hoped for as a father.”

Without thinking about it, I step forward and wrap him in my arms, clapping his back once, twice.

“Thank you,” I murmur against his head, voice thick. “Couldn’t have wished for a better father-in-law either.”

He hugs me just as hard.

When Alan pulls back, he lets out a long breath through pursed lips, then says, “All right, time to shine.”

I lift a brow.

He takes my shoulders, then leads me a few yards away, on a corner wall.

“I’ll leave you to it, then.”

I furrow my brows as he leaves, but just then, I hear a soft, “Hey.”

The second I hear her voice, all the jitters I had about today are gone, replaced by a calming white noise. She has this effect on me, and I don’t even know if she realizes it. Like the sound of the ocean at night. Soothing.

“Hey, baby.” The urge to turn the corner and go hug her is so fucking present, I have to pretend my feet are stuck in cement. And Aaron was right earlier: this is only after one night spent apart. I’m kind of pathetic.

“Isn’t it bad luck to see each other before the wedding?” I ask, although I don’t really care.

“We’re not seeing each other, are we?”

I grin. She really is the best.

“I wanted to spend some time with you before the ceremony. Kind of stupid that it’s our day and we spend half of it apart, no?”

“Couldn’t agree more.” It’s crazy how similar we are, thinking the same thing without even mentioning it to the other. It feels great to know she missed me just as much as I missed her. Even if she tells me every day, I still appreciate every single instance where she makes me feel loved.

“If I’m not looking, can I touch you, at least?” I ask.

“Not here. I don’t trust you to not open your eyes.”

I pout, although she doesn’t see it.

“But I guess you can stay where you are and extend a hand over the corner.”
I don’t waste any time before doing what she suggested, touching her silky skin, then her silkier dress.

“I like this,” I say.

“You haven’t even seen it.”

“Doesn’t matter. I know it’s gorgeous.” Smirking, I add, “Will be even better once it’s on the floor.”

She barks out a laugh, slapping my hand away. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Guilty.”

God, it feels good to be with her again. I love everyone who’s been at my side this morning, but nothing compares to her. She’s truly my second half, and I’m not completely myself until she’s here.

“And there’s something else,” she says.

“Hm?”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to say my vows in front of everyone.”

“Why? Are you okay?” Again, I fight the urge to round the corner.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just really nervous. Never been the best at public speaking. Plus, I’m sure I’ll start bawling, and I don’t think that will make for a good speech.”

“You really think you’ll cry?” I ask, grinning.

“And you won’t?”

“Me, emotional? Nah.” As if I haven’t come close about seventy billion times since waking up.

“Well, good for you, loser, but I can’t.”

“All right, so what do you want to do? I can go tell the officiant we changed plans.”

“Yes, please. But one more thing before that.”

I extend a hand again, holding on to her arm. “Yeah?”

“I still want to give you my vows.”

“Like, now?”

“Yes, but I’d give my written ones, if it’s okay. Again, crying mess and stuff.”

Chuckling, I say, “That’s perfect, V.” I pat my pockets. “Actually, I have mine on me too, so we can just exchange them?”

“Please.”

I reach in my pockets and pick up the printing paper I scribbled on, then hand it to her. When I grab her thick paper with beautiful drawings and perfect calligraphy, I feel kind of bad.

“Sorry for the writing,” I say.

She only laughs.

Straightening the paper, I look down, realizing this is actually the first letter of hers I’ll read. She read so many of my thoughts when she came back to my apartment in New York two years ago, but I never got to do the same. It’s exciting, but also strangely nerve-racking.

Stop wasting time, Seaberg.

            I open it.

 

Will,

It’s hard for me to know where to start, because our lives have always been intertwined. I don’t know the exact moment I fell in love with you, and I can’t pinpoint the one thing that makes you perfect for me. Honestly, I don’t think there’s one. If anything, everything about you is perfect for me.  The way you make me laugh out loud every single day, even when I’m not in the mood. The passion you have for your job and your students. The importance family holds in your life. Your loyalty to those around you. The way you hug me just right, where my nose presses against your neck and I feel like I’m in the safest place on earth. How cherished you make me feel, every single day of our lives. Not a single second passes when I have doubts about us, which is so incredibly precious to me. I’m so happy to be getting married to you today, but even if I wasn’t, it wouldn’t matter. I know you and I are made to be together, and that’s a feeling I have deep in my gut, in my soul, and nothing could break it. Ever. As you said to me years ago, “You’re it for me.”

You make me happy, Will. So incredibly happy. I don’t know what I did in a previous life to be lucky enough to have you by my side for all of my life, literally, but it must’ve been pretty good. You’re my greatest love and my best friend, all in one. And after today, everything will be official. Will and Violet, Violet and Will. Two parts of a whole. I will give you my heart forever, and I’m not even afraid because I know you’ll take good care of it.

I love you with everything I have.

Violet

 

I let out a deep breath, but I know it’s too late. Tears are streaming down my face, and I couldn’t have stopped them even if I wanted to.

“God, baby, I love you,” I say, voice clearly heavy with tears.

She only answers with a sob and a muffled, “Me too.”

Somehow, this is so much better than saying our vows in front of everyone. First of all, because she was right, and we’re both crying messes, but also because this is intimate, and I don’t need to share this moment with anyone else but her. I’m not embarrassed of being one hundred percent honest in front of her, or of letting her see everything that’s in me. I’ve done that more times than I can think.

“I need to touch you for real. I promise I’ll keep my eyes closed,” I say.

She huffs, then says, “Fine, whatever.”

Lips lifting, I squeeze my eyes shut, then make my way to the other side of the wall and before she can utter a word, I grab her into my arms and kiss the hell out of her.

Shivers cover my arms.

How is it possible that even after all these years together, every kiss still feels so special? So fiery? There’s something magical about it. I’ve been with other girls in the years we were separated, and even before we were together, but it’s never been anything near like how it feels with her.

Both my hands are cupping her soft cheeks, tendrils of hair tickling my fingers as I tangle my tongue with her. I sigh at the taste of her, the feel of her. I’m the lucky bastard who gets to have this for the rest of my life. It’s almost too good to be true.

Her lips are soft against mine despite the urgency in our kiss. It’s as if we want to express everything we’ve felt in our letters through this embrace. I’m getting hard, and while getting a boner was not in the plans for this morning, I’m definitely not against the idea.

But just as I plunge deeper and bring her even closer to me, Violet pulls away, breathless.

“I need to go. Sam’s going to kill me if I’m late for makeup.”

I groan.

She laughs, patting my cheek. “See you at the altar.”

I lean forward and give her lips one last peck. “Thank you for this.”

“Pleasure was all mine.”

 

***

 

Hours—or a lifetime—later, we’re finally here.

All the people closest to us are here. I even spot my father in the back, smiling and waving at me. In the end, I’m really, really glad he’s here with us today.

The music has just started, a string quartet playing the classic Canon in D.

First down the aisle comes Kamali, dressed in a gorgeous violet gown, accompanied by Jensen. He does look uncomfortable in his suit, which makes me snicker. He subtly flips me the bird in response.

Next is Violet’s friend from work, Emma, with Oliver by her side. He looks much happier in his outfit, head held high and a smug grin on his lips.

The third and final couple to walk down the aisle is my sister, so beautiful in her dress and with her huge grin, accompanied by Aaron, the man who’s been there for me during all my crises over the years. Watching me, Sam mouths, “I love you,” her eyes wet. I blow her a kiss.

Once they’re out of the way, everyone rises to their feet, and my heart threatens to rip out of my chest. It’s time. Finally.

And then, I see her, and just like before, everything in me relaxes. My own drug.

She’s so beautiful, I don’t even have words for it. Her long blond hair is half up, half down, soft curls falling over her exposed shoulders. Her gown seems to be made of a light, airy material, simple but so elegant. Her veil is long and has a lining of pearls on it, but I can’t focus on it for more than a second, my attention automatically going back to her face. She’s smiling widely, so radiant in her happiness, and I’m sure I mirror her. After everything we’ve gone through, we’re finally here.

This is it. The beginning of the rest of our lives.

And I’m so fucking ready for it.

THREE – SURFING LESSON

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Violet,” I say, trying my best to stay serious.

“She’s not ready,” Violet argues, arms crossed in front of her chest like someone ready to go to war.

“Yes, she is.” I tilt my head. “She’s been ready for this for months. We’ve talked about this.”

My wife only answers by pouting. This time, I do smile. She looks so cute like this. Through the years, she’s developed tiny crow’s feet by her eyes and faint wrinkles by her lips, proof of perfect years spent laughing and smiling. When I look at her now, I find her more beautiful than ever before, and I know that tomorrow, I will think the same.

Almost reflexively, I take her in my arms and rub her back. “Violet, baby, it’s time. I’ll be right there with her.”

“Is that supposed to reassure me?” she mumbles against my neck.

I laugh out loud, burying my nose in her strawberry-scented hair. “Yeah, it is.”

“That’s my baby we’re talking about,” she says.

“Who’s also my baby. I’d die before I let something happen to her.” I pull away, holding her shoulders. “And besides, she just turned seven. Far from a baby. You know, in Hawaii, they start surfing at, like, three.”

“I don’t know how the parents do it. Probably close their eyes and hope for the best.” She’s still pouting, eyes slightly panicked.

“What’s the worst that can happen?”

Her eyebrows climb on her forehead. “Seriously? You want me to go through the list? Because it’s long.”

“Figure of speech,” I say, grinning. When she doesn’t return my smile, I squeeze her arm lovingly and say, “I definitely recognize some Amy in there.”

That, finally, gets her lips to curl up, if only a little.

We’ve worked on this a lot in the past years, both together and in individual therapy, and now, when I tell Violet she reminds me of her mother, she sees the compliment, as intended. Violet told me one day that her father had told her Amy wasn’t her mistakes, and we’ve come to see that. She was first and foremost a protective mother, and Violet resembles her so much in her role. I love it more than I could express.

I see she’s about to continue arguing about this, but just then, our ball of sunshine hurries down the stairs, clad in her brand new pink wetsuit.

“I’m ready,” June shouts, her dark curls all over the place.

Violet goes to her, kneeling in front of our perfect daughter and tightening the zipper behind her neck. “How about we go make sandcastles instead? I’m sure you could build the biggest in Ogunquit.”

“Mommy, we’ve talked about this,” June says, so serious and solemn it makes me snicker.

Even with her back to me, I know Violet’s frown is back. “When did you grow up so fast?”

“Come on, baby,” I tell my daughter, offering her my hand. “Mommy will get used to it.”

The glare Violet sends my way tells me I just put myself at risk of sleeping on the couch tonight. I blow her a kiss and promise myself I’ll make it up to her later.

It’s not as if we didn’t take the decision together. Six months ago, we agreed it was time we finally relent and allow June to start surfing, but every time the opportunity came, Violet choked and backed down. But I’m tired of being harassed by my daughter who reminds me so much of her mother in that way, and I know she’s ready for it. Plus, I will be there for her every step of the way, and the water’s calm today. I checked. No danger at all, no matter how much Violet would like to pretend it is so she’d have another excuse to delay this.

June heads my way, her chubby feet tapping against the hardwood floors we redid ten years ago when we moved into the beach house, the place where Violet and I grew up and eventually built our family into. When she reaches me, I grab her under the arms and lift her up, making her spin once, twice, squeals of happiness erupting out of her. My sunny, happy girl.

When I’ve stopped turning and she’s finally caught her breath, she turns to Violet and says, “Why aren’t you dressed?” Then, she turns back to me, verifying that yes, I am in a wetsuit even though her mom isn’t.

“Mommy’s not the best at surfing, hon,” I whisper loud enough so Violet can hear, winking at her. She glares again, but even then, I see the love in her eyes, so bright and beautiful.

Besides, I know damn well there’s another, more important reason why she can’t go surfing right now. She hasn’t told me yet, but I know my wife, and I know when something’s different with her. My guess is she’s done the test this morning. The thought makes me feel like my heart is about to burst from how much love it carries. I can’t wait for her to tell me.

“Yes, she’s good!” June argues.

“Thank you, June!” Violet says, walking to us before landing a loud kiss on her cheek. “And that’s why you’re my favorite person here.” She definitely looks at me while saying so, which makes me chuckle.

“All right, honey, time to go,” I say, putting June back to the ground.

She turns to her mother. “Are you going to come watch me, at least?”

“You bet your bum I am.” She lifts her eyes at me. “Not leaving you alone with this crazy man.”

I laugh again, then swoop in and kiss Violet on the lips. They curl under mine in a smile as she tangles her fingers in my hair, digging her nails in. Yep, tonight’s gonna be good.

“Ew. Come on, Daddy,” June bellows.

I pull away, smiling. “All right, all right, missy. We’re going.” Subtly, I land a soft smack on my wife’s ass. She yelps, grinning even more.

“I’ll go get Leo from his nap,” Violet says. “Meet you there.”

June and I both nod, then head outside. I grab my surfboard and the smaller one we bought a while ago for her birthday.

“I can carry it myself,” June says.

“Sure, baby,” I answer, keeping the board in my arms. It’s about twice her size, and sometimes when we walk the two blocks to the beach, even empty-handed, she asks me to carry her on my shoulders “cause she’s so tired.” No way am I giving her a board on top of it.

We make the trek to the beach, June humming the theme song of one of her favorite cartoons over and over again. She’s such a good kid. Always willing to try new things, to play and laugh and make new friends. I never thought I could love someone as much as I love Violet, yet the second I met those deep, brown eyes, so much like the ones I fell in love with at eleven-years-old, I knew I’d been wrong. And when I thought I could never love anyone the way I loved my two girls, I knew I’d once again been wrong when I met my son, almost two years ago.

“Daddy?” June asks, bringing me out of my reverie as we reach the footbridge leading to the beach closest to our house.

“Yes?”

“When am I going to meet my husband?”

I cough, choking on air. “I’m sorry?”

“Mommy had already met you at my age, no?”

“Yes, but that’s special. We were lucky.” We really were. It’s hard to explain to people sometimes, how we’ve known each other for literally all of our lives. There’s never been a time when she wasn’t important to me, although things definitely evolved throughout the years.

I furrow my brows. “You definitely don’t need to already have met the person you’ll marry.” Just the thought of my baby girl marrying someone makes me feel like I have a huge, deep gastric ulcer.

“I want what you have,” she says, sounding so old for her age it guts me.

“One day, baby. You’ll date and meet someone that’s worthy of you. One day. When you’re, like, thirty.”

Thank God we reach the beach at this moment. I don’t want to talk about my daughter dating anymore. It’s physically painful.

June is already halfway to the water when I lift my eyes, running faster than you’d believe possible for her height.

“Hey, wait up!” I shout behind her.

She does not, in fact, wait up.

“I need to give you lessons on the ground first,” I say loudly when I get to the edge of the water, where she’s already started submerging herself. It’s as if she has no nerve endings that feel the icy cold water. Or maybe she just doesn’t care. Like father, like daughter.

“Zach has already showed me.”

“When?” The last time Sam and her kids visited was a while ago.

“Last summer. I’m ready, Daddy, I swear.”

Not sure how much I trust this, but one thing I know is I won’t make June Seaberg change her mind over something. She needs to come to her own conclusions with trial and error. A real hard head.

I drop the two boards in the water, and when she gets on hers and starts paddling away from the shore, I follow her.

 

***

 

Violet shrieks for the millionth time.

It’s instantaneous. Every time June falls from her board, I hear a squeal coming from the beach. And every time June’s head emerges from the water, never far from where I’m sitting on my board, I hear laughter, from both my children.

While Violet is as nervous as can be, my son, who’s sitting next to her in the tent she brought for shade, seems to find it extremely funny to see his sister falling and getting back up. I can spot his blond head as he plays with his buckets and shovels, all the while encouraging his sister.

Meanwhile, Violet is seated in her beach chair, a large drawing pad in her lap. Even without seeing it, I know she’s drawing our family. Over the years, she’s picked up her pencils, picturing pieces of our daily lives. Those, she doesn’t sell. She still paints for a living, hanging her art in the local gallery and even in bigger museums, but while she sometimes gets her inspiration from our surroundings, the drawings she makes of us are only for us. I know somehow, that makes them even more precious to her.

Drawing seems to keep her calm, at least enough that June and I can complete our surfing session. Plus, it’s going well, all in all. Sure, she falls almost as soon as she climbs on the board, but that’s to be expected for a first time. The only important thing is that she’s safe and having fun, which must be the conclusion Violet’s come to as well.

“I’m going to do it, now,” June says, determined.

“You are,” I say like I have the last ten times she’s said the same thing.

Looking back at me, she says, “Push my board harder this time, okay?”

I grin. I didn’t think she’d noticed I was giving her pushes so she’d gain an advantage on the wave and get up more easily. I wanted her to believe she’d succeeded all by herself if she did. I should’ve known better.

“Got it,” I say.

As if sensing June’s getting more determined, Violet gets up from her spot under the tent and, with Leo in her arms, shouts, “Be careful!”

“I’m getting up, now,” June shouts back. “Watch, Mommy!”

Smiling brightly, Violet says, “I’m watching.”

And even though her mother had been watching all along, this time, it’s like June has a new motivation, and when the wave comes and I push her board, she paddles as hard as she can. Before I realize what’s happening, she’s up, stable on her feet.

I let out a whoop so loud, her shoulders jerk in surprise.

“Go, Junie!” Leo shouts from the shore as Violet jumps up and down, cheering as loud as I am. I feel so proud in that moment, it’s as if my daughter has just won a Nobel prize.

The wave brings her almost all the way to the beach, and when she jumps down her board, the smile I see on her face is probably the grandest I’ve ever seen.

Not caring for a second about getting wet—I know that’s always the last thing on her mind—Violet runs to her daughter and bear-hugs her, water reaching her legging-covered calves. I catch the next wave I can, and once I’ve reached their level, jump down and join their hug. Leo’s in Violet’s arms still, and when I wrap my wet arms around them, Violet shrieks from the cold while Leo giggles.

“I’m so proud of you,” Violet tells June as she bends down to kiss the crown of her dark hair. “But enough for today, okay?” Looking up at me, she says, “I feel like I’ve lost five pounds from the stress of watching you two.”

I laugh, following water droplets dripping down her nose and cheek, the contours of her face my favorite work of art. Time has passed in a flash. It feels like yesterday it was both our families here, then just her and I, and now here we are. There’s nothing I would change. I wholeheartedly believe that even our mistakes made us stronger, in the end. Now, I know nothing could tear us apart. It’s me and Violet against the world, just like she said in her wedding vows. The motto I live by.

“Show you sandcastles,” Leo tells his sister, his words only slightly muffled from the pacifier in his mouth. His speech is getting better every day as he discovers new expressions and observes everything around him, so incredibly smart.

“Okay,” June says, then they both run to the tent on the beach, leaving Violet and I alone.

She untangles two of my curls, pushing them back from my forehead. Then, she climbs on her tiptoes and presses a soft kiss to my wet lips. “You were right. It was time.”

“Told you.”

She rolls her eyes and I laugh, kissing her again.

“At least it’s done,” she says when she pulls back.

“Now we just have to wait for driving lessons.” I smirk.

“Please kill me now. I don’t think I’ll survive it.”

I laugh, then before she can expect it, I scoop her up. She lets out a loud sound from the surprise and the feel of my wet, cold suit against her, but still wraps her arms around my neck, smiling wide. I walk to where our kids are playing, then allow her to land back on the ground. Still, she doesn’t tear herself away from me. Instead, she keeps her arms hooked around my neck, our cheeks pressed together as we watch June and Leo play in the sand. The sun is warm against our skin, a beautiful September day where the beaches are almost empty but the weather is at its best. The whole place is practically silent except for the lull of the waves and the laughter our kids let out.

I let one of my hands wander on top of Violet’s belly, and when she looks at me, it’s clear she knows I know, but I’m certain she still won’t say the words until she’s made the announcement the way she’d planned to, and I’ll pretend to be surprised because I love her that much.

I can’t believe this is my actual life. Even in my wildest dreams, I couldn’t have wished being this happy.

“I’m so fucking lucky,” I say, and I don’t need to explain what for. It’s as if she understands that I don’t mean for one thing in particular, but for all of it.

She kisses me, then says against my lips, “I love you. And you’re not lucky. We are.”

I lean my chin on her shoulder and continue watching our kids playing, knowing a third one will soon come, and this time, I won’t kid myself: I know I’ll have four people I’ll love equally and more than anything.

Squeezing Violet tighter, I whisper, “The luckiest.”