Epilogue Parker
It’s mid-afternoon by the time I weave a path through the thick crowd lining the beach in a tiny Portuguese fishing town.
I ignore the grumbling as I shoulder my way to the very front, as close as possible to the water without outright wading into the ocean.
Don’t even bother with the guy in the distressed bucket hat trying to kill me with a glare when I step around him, obstructing his formerly clear view of the half-formed barrel just ahead, and the surfer disappearing inside it.
He can kick rocks, for all I care.
Endless flight delays mean that I’ve already missed two of Summer’s heats today.
Worse yet, I still have to endure another fourteen minutes and eleven seconds before feeling her skin against mine again.
Seeing her smile in person. Kissing her for the first time in two and a half months, our longest stretch apart since the Champions Tour kicked off in the fall.
Every day since, I’ve been gulping down any little drop of her I can. Calls, texts. The live streams and recordings I find of the surf events I’ve missed, with my nose practically touching the screen. As though, by some miracle, it could transport me to wherever she was.
None of it has. The only thing still tethering me to my humanity is the immeasurable joy plain on her face whenever we video call. Her excited, mile-a-minute chatter as she fills me in on her day and recaps her best wave. Her breathy moans as she comes, not taking her eyes off me through the phone.
Between the steady stream of clients coming through the clinic and finalizing our plans for the beachfront bungalow before we break ground next month, I’ve tried to keep myself distracted.
I’ve been counting down the minutes until the end of the football season, when I can take an extended break to travel with Summer for a blessed few weeks before heading home to get River into playing shape for his first season of quarterbacking at UOB.
I’m jostled around. Bucket Hat is trying to make foolish moves to regain his position in the sand. Maybe spotting the glitter on my chest and the obnoxious pattern on my open shirt, and thinking I’m easy prey.
I take my eyes off the water just long enough to give him a cutting stare. “Back up. This is my spot now.”
He retreats several long steps.
The crowd roars when Summer emerges from the barrel. Feet still planted on her board, barely a hair out of place from her ponytail.
See her? I want to tell them. She chose me.
Summer rides out the last of the wave, then slips into the shallow, foamy water.
She scans the crowd as the judges announce her score.
I wave at her. Unnecessary, given the atrocity I’m wearing.
The clashing colors on my Hawaiian shirt draw her gaze.
She starts paddling toward shore, eyes stuck to me.
The crowd murmurs, probably confused as to why she’s now on land when there’s still ten minutes in this heat.
Summer rips the leash off her ankle. Abandons her board and doesn’t stop until we collide in a tangle of arms, her legs wound around my waist.
Everything. I have everything I’ll ever need right here in my arms.
Summer’s palm cups my cheek. Slides down my neck and stops over my pounding heart. “You’re here.”
“I’m here. I missed you so much, Summer—”
She crushes her mouth against mine, moaning loud enough for anyone to hear. Fingers threading through my hair and holding tight. It takes me a minute to remember where we are, what she’s supposed to be doing. When I do, I break away. I try to set her down but she triples her grip on me.
“Summer, baby, with all due respect, what the hell are you doing?” I push away the wet strands of hair clinging to her cheek. “You’re supposed to be surfing—”
She cuts me off with another kiss. “I’m way ahead in the score. Let the other guy think he has a chance before I keep crushing his spirit.”
I love every version this woman, but this one especially. This is a Summer who knows exactly who she is, what she’s capable of. Exuding confidence. Completely in her element.
“You know what?” I say, pulling her back in. “It’s the polite thing to do.”
The house is bursting with noise.
It’s our third year in our beachfront bungalow, but our first hosting our family for Christmas.
Low carols filter from the speaker system, a scream I recognize as Macaulay Culkin’s streams in from the TV in the living room.
My twin nephews squeal as their uncle Brooks and pregnant aunt Siena entertain them, Siena’s mom laughing happily as she watches on.
I can hear my sister groaning at our own mother, who’s rambling at Zac about something or other.
“You hiding from your mom?”
Strong arms wrap around my middle and Summer presses her face between my shoulder blades. I grip her arms, squeeze her back as best I can.
“I thought I’d get started on cooking—it’s Christmas brunch. A big deal. Can’t screw it up.”
“Park, it’s seven o’clock on Christmas Eve,” she says with a laugh. “So again, I ask: Are you hiding from your mom?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely I am, and I blame you. That woman does not need wine.”
Summer unravels from me and leans against the counter. Since retiring from competitive surfing at the end of last summer, she’s chopped her hair to a sexy-as-hell chin-length that constantly requires me to check myself or risk ripping off her clothes in company.
Her smile is soft but her eyes glint with mischief.
It’s exactly the way she looked at me on the French Polynesian beach where we eloped two years ago.
As though she were the one getting her way.
But it’d been me who took one look at her upon my arrival in town and decided I was done living without her as my wife.
All it took were some well-timed orgasms to get her to agree.
“What’s got you looking so pleased with yourself, Woods?” I ask, nudging her chin.
She tucks her tousled hair behind her ears. “I want to give you your Christmas present early.”
My stomach bursts, a whole swooping feeling that actually draws my hand to my middle. Because I know my wife better than I know myself. And she isn’t looking at me like that for the sake of a pair of socks.
“Summer.” There’s already a lump forming in my throat, burning in my eyes.
With that breathy, nervous laugh, she reaches into her back pocket and places a test on the counter. I don’t need to look at it. Don’t need to see anything but the joy and mild terror in her beautiful eyes to know exactly what it says.
There’s been no shortage of practice over the years, but it took us a long time to decide we wanted this.
For a while, we didn’t think we’d get to that point at all—Summer eventually started flying home between tour events, but she wasn’t ready to give it up altogether.
And I’d developed my own affinity for world travel, meaning we were country-hopping every time I could pull off an extended break from the clinic.
It was on one of those trips several months ago, watching the sun set on our boards in the Indian Ocean, when she turned those green eyes on me and simply said, “Should we?”
And here we are again, on the precipice of another grand adventure. Another phase of life, together.
“Did your life just flash before your eyes?” Summer asks with a laugh.
“Yeah, it did.” I dry my cheeks, rest my forehead on her shoulder. Inhale the perfume I made her swear she’d never stop using. “Looks like it’ll be a good one.”
I’m slow getting through the final chapter of my book, unable to keep my eyes on its pages for long.
At the other end of the bed, Summer is curled around a pillow, humming sweetly in her sleep.
Our six-year-old son lies between us, little arms flung overhead, after a brutal two hours of trying to coax him back to bed after a nightmare.
The dog snores soundly from the foot of the mattress.
It’s hard, looking away from my favorite view in the world.
I reach for my phone and quietly snap a picture of them together.
There’s a framed photo on the nightstand beyond my wife, a forever-favorite of mine. Me and Summer, ten years younger. Kissing in a glowing pillow fort in her old apartment in town.
So much has changed since then. We’ve traveled the world, built a thriving business together. We’ve fought and we’ve loved, made a home and a family. New lines mark our skin, a few gray strands streak through our hair.
And yet, every day since feels the same as it did when we took that picture. Same as it always has with Summer.
I’m still just a kid with my whole life ahead of me. And my entire world lying right beside me.