Savor It

Epilogue

“How much longer, Ind?” I finally call up the stairs. I’ve been quietly pacing in the sunroom for the last forty minutes and couldn’t last any longer. “I wanna get there early in case she needs help!”

When she doesn’t dignify me with a response, I stomp back away from the stairs and through Sage’s kitchen—our kitchen, officially, as indicated by my knives on the counter and the sous vide still out from the night before. The Andersens ended up wanting to come back for Christmas, so we’d only stayed for a month in their place before we moved in with Sage.

Back in the sunroom, I find the new pictures along the display shelf. Indy’s report card from her sophomore year, framed—all As. A family portrait of all of us on Founder’s Point, my parents included, from when they visited over Christmas last year. We attempted to build a sand-snowman on the beach. We made it as far as his base and had frozen wet hands that we all proceeded to thaw at Walter’s diner. Beside that picture is another recent one of Indy and me in the truck, wearing twin expressions of apprehension, our mouths pinched in serious lines. It was the first time I took her out to teach her to drive, since she has recently earned her learner’s permit. There’s a picture from last year’s festival, too. It’s Sage and me pulling onto the beach, with a bunch of the faces of people we love celebrating around us, our eyes stuck on each other.

I pick up the photo from New Year’s, which also happened to be the soft opening for Starhopper. It was a town-only event outside of Carlie herself, where one of Walter’s many nephews (this one a great-nephew, I think?) came to deejay. Desserts were made by Savvy’s and Wren, and floral design was provided by Sage. It was her first big gig, and I am proud to say that I’ve never heard so many compliments on floral arrangements at an event centered around food. The official grand opening took place a week later, with hordes of patrons from out of town, many brought in by the allure of watching a meteor shower that was happening that night from the observatory or from the lawn outside.

Starhopper has been a huge draw for Spunes and tourism these last six months. And working there under Archer has been somewhat refreshing, actually. I’ve been enjoying the low pressure and low stakes. I do still have some other ideas in the works, though, and my determination is gaining. Once Walter quits playing chicken and makes his retirement official, I’m going to do all I can to purchase the diner. I won’t have a backer this time; it will be mine through and through.

I hear Indy hustle down the steps, and I return the photo to the shelf, just as she slides into the sunroom to brush past me. “Let’s go!” she says, like I’m the one holding us up. I yell a quick goodbye to Sable and Legs before I follow her out to the truck and head into town.

The soft opening was Sage’s first real gig, but tonight’s thing is a much bigger deal. Starhopper and the whole of Main Street itself have been shut down for exclusivity.

Indy splits off when we make it inside the restaurant, spotting Sam and some of her friends by the drinks. It feels like something hot pokes inside my chest when I see her getting along so well with them.

I’m not the least bit surprised when I turn and find Sage at the very top of a ladder, in bare feet and a pretty green dress I’ve already peeled off her once today. She reaches for something and I spot the tattoo on the inside of her elbow, a canoe spilling over with flowers. I got my own version the same day on my forearm: a whisk and a spatula in place of paddles. Her high-heeled shoes are waiting at the bottom as she adjusts the garland hanging from a rafter.

I make my way over to her from the side, and she does a double take and wobbles just slightly. “Dammit,” I grumble as I dive for the ladder and steady it. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack.”

She smiles over her shoulder before she makes her way back down, and the irritation melts away the second she’s on the ground in front of me, replaced by a different sort of heart race. She’s got her hair in messy waves, partially pulled back in some sort of fancy ponytail. Big, dangly earrings that are dull compared to that glimmer in her eye. Lips that look berry-stained. Only a few rings on this evening, one bare finger in particular I intend to adorn very soon.

We’d taken a weekend trip over to Gandon back in March for Sage’s birthday, and I’d been hit with an idea based on some of their summer advertisement signs. It took a whole lot of hunting and coordinating, but I found (and purchased) a glass-bottomed canoe, complete with lights around the rim for night rides. I’ve had it hidden over at Silas’s for almost two months, but at the first hint of a warm summer night, he’s going to bring it to our beach and have it waiting for me behind the blind. I’m going to take her out on her favorite stretch of water and ask her under a vast, starry sky to be my wife.

“Well,” she says with a meaningful look. “What do you think?”

“So beautiful it hurts,” I tell her.

She pulls me down for a kiss that’s probably too passionate for public display, but that’s my Sage. All heart, full force, and making every moment matter.

“I meant,” she says, punctuating it with a quick nibble on my lip, “what do you think of the wedding?”

Oh.I take the time now to look around the room, and I’m stunned that one person managed this. Well, one person and her brother, I guess. Micah got released from his contract and has been moping around Spunes since spring. Sage, in trying to keep him constantly busy and distracted, also recruited him to help with all the floral installations for today’s nuptials.

Speaking of which, Ian and Cassidy stroll through the Starhopper doors now. We all nod to one another in polite greeting from across the room. Contrary to the couple from today, those two ended up eloping to Mexico this past February.

I help Sage with the last of the setup, then move the ladder and tuck it away. She walks by me at some point when I’m busy fixing some sort of sprig in a napkin, swats my ass, and whispers, “I’ve changed my mind; this is my favorite suit on you,” in my ear. The only other one she’s seen me in is a wet suit. I’m half a step from dragging her off to a supply closet when the emcee announces that it’s time to head to the observatory.

Chairs are stationed around the circular room, and everyone files in and takes their seats. There are probably only twenty of us or so, just enough to make for a very intimate ceremony. The rest of the town will be at the reception, no doubt. By the telescope in the middle of the room, next to Athena Cirillo acting as officiant, stands a visibly emotional and suit-clad Walter, waiting for his bride. Sage has strung up a garland, with dangling strands of crystals and lights throughout the dimmed room, with moss and various star-shaped flowers along the aisles at our feet.

“You’re amazing,” I tell her. “This is amazing.”

“So are you,” she says to me. I shake my head at her. I’ll never know why I got this lucky. Of all the places in all the world I might’ve ended up, the idea that fate might’ve landed Indy and me anywhere else grips me with terror some days. I think because of how hard I want to hold on to this life, how badly I wish I could slow it down.

The elevator dings at the back of the room, and we all turn in unison just as Silas and Ellis begin to walk Martha O’Doyle down the aisle.

Turns out, Martha and Walter had been living their own star-crossed story throughout the years, pining from a distance until something inspired them to finally take the plunge. They decided to quit wasting their days and to be with the one they love.

That night, I dance in a conga line, I eat delicious food and cake that I didn’t have to make, and I witness the horrifying sight of Walter peeling a garter from Martha’s leg by his teeth.

I dance as much as I can with Sage, even if it makes me hungry to get her home. And whenever we’re separated throughout the evening, I find that I still watch the woman I love. She’s the one I intend to make my wife, who helps me parent Indy, and who I’d be honored to raise more children and even more animals with one day. She’s the woman who has taught me to let go of so much so that I can wish and dream for more.

I plan to savor every bit of it.