One Golden Summer(101)

“I got some good news from the doctor earlier,” he says as he unbuttons my coat and drops it on the floor.

I glance at the clock. Sam and Percy have been resting at home with the baby, but they’re coming for dinner tonight for Charlie’s birthday. We paid them a visit when they got home from the hospital, but only stayed for a little while. Susie and I were the only people in the room who weren’t completely exhausted. She’s almost totally bald, but she looks so much like Sam.

“It’s super annoying,” Percy had said, smiling.

“We only have an hour before they’ll be here,” I tell Charlie. “And I still have to cook.”

He winks. “I can work with that.”

Charlie leads me to the bedroom. The curtains are closed, and the space is illuminated with dozens of candles.

“What is all this?” I turn toward his bed, gawking at what’s scattered on the gray velvet coverlet. “Are those rose petals? This is not what I’d expected.”

“Wait for it.” Charlie gives me a grin as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone.

Seconds later I’m doubled over, cackling as Rod Stewart’s rendition of “Have I Told You Lately” plays over the speakers.

Charlie shuts off the music, and I straighten, still laughing.

“God, you’re beautiful.”

“God, you’re cheesy,” I say, cheeks straining.

“You like it.”

“I love it,” I correct. And then Charlie kisses me so deeply and thoroughly, I link my wrists around his neck to stay balanced. He pulls back an inch, staring at me in the flickering glow, and the seriousness in his gaze makes my stomach twirl.

“I wanted to do something more romantic than a darkroom.”

“I liked the darkroom.”

“I know you did. But I can do better. With everything. I’m in this, Alice. I’m so in this.”

“I know.”

I know that he’s worth so much more than he thinks he is. I will give him everything I have—my time and my devotion and my heart. And I know he’ll give it right back to me. Because I know Charlie. The incorrigible flirt. The human beam of sunlight. The man I love.

He’s my best friend. And he’s remarkable.





Epilogue


One year later

I stare at the photo, and just like that, I’m seventeen.

I hear them across the bay. For a moment, I’m lost in the golden glow of a summer long ago. The laughter of three teenagers. The rumble of a familiar motor. A camera between my hands.

And then I feel him standing beside me—his warmth, his smell, the hand that settles on my lower back. I saw him across the room earlier tonight, but we haven’t had a chance to speak. He looked as proud and puffed up as a peacock. I was in the middle of a conversation with a collector, and he raised his glass, tossed me a wink, and mouthed, Later.

“I’ve been waiting to corner you,” Charlie says now. “You’re a very popular woman this evening.”

I tilt my head and find a pair of gleaming green eyes. “I can’t believe how many people are here,” I say. The space is packed, the music barely audible over the noise of the crowd.

“I can,” Charlie says. A hand skims down my arm, and his fingers knit through mine. “I’ve never believed in fate. But it’s hard to argue with this.”

We turn and study the three teenage faces in front of us. Charlie, Sam, and Percy in the yellow boat. My name on the wall beside them.

I’ve spent time at Elyse’s gallery during the show’s installation, but walking into the space earlier this evening, when it was still empty, surrounded by my photos, affected me in a way I didn’t anticipate. I was glad I came alone, that I’d asked Charlie and my family to wait until the crowd began to arrive. I sat on the floor in the middle of the exhibition, soaking it in.

There are twelve large-format photographs in Alice Everly: Seen. In one, Nan and John sit on a bench in the backyard of his home in Ottawa. It’s called Reunion. In Unstuck, my mother tromps through rows of grapes in muddy galoshes, her cheeks a windswept pink. There’s one of Percy, pregnant, in her orange bikini, pouring a cup of coffee, morning sunlight streaming in through the window. I named it Coming Soon. And then there’s Falling—the photo of Charlie I developed in his high school darkroom last summer. One Golden Summer hangs in the back corner.

“A lot of people can’t stand their early work, but I still love it,” I say to Charlie now. “It feels timeless.”

Charlies leans toward my ear. “That’s just my good looks.” I snort, and he adds, “And your exceptional talent.”

He plants a soft kiss on my cheek. “I know we’re here celebrating your work, but I think it’s important we also celebrate those pants.” His gaze drops down my body, bottom lip between his teeth, and I laugh.

I didn’t straighten my hair but am otherwise dressed in all my armor—glasses, red lipstick, chunky heels, a black silk blouse—but I’m also wearing a pair of leather trousers the old Alice wouldn’t have dared to pull off. Charlie had me up against the door when I tried them on for him.

“At the risk of swelling your ego to an unbearable degree,” I say to him, “I’m not sure remarkable quite covers how you look tonight.”