41
I DEFINITELY DIDnot need to run from the Pine Lake parking lot directly to the waterfront, but somehow it was the only way my legs would move. I couldn’t get there fast enough; I took off the second I parked, barefoot, dashing in the dark past the soccer field and down the rambling field, toward the shores of Pine Lake.
I left everything behind in my car—keys, phone, the shoes I had been wearing this morning. My camp letter, and the revised list I wrote last weekend, remained shoved inside my purse next to the medal I shared with Mack.
All that I had right now was myself. And for once, that felt like enough.
My feet tangled with the hem of my pants as I moved—they were meant to be worn with an extra three inches of heel, but I somehow managed not to trip as I sprinted. Maybe it was the superpower of being in love, or the rush that came from drastically altering your life on a whim. Whatever it was, I was unstoppable. I even managed to yank my suit jacket off my arms, hurling it behind me as I ran.
I had something I needed to do before I found my friends, and Mack, and unfurled the entirety of my heart onto them. This mission involved me ripping at the button of my pants and kicking them off frantically on the beach as if at any moment I might lose my courage. Finally, I waded into the lake in nothing but my camisole and underwear, pushing through the chill of the water and forcing myself to dunk fully underneath.
My breath caught in my chest as the water surrounded me—had it somehow gotten five degrees colder since I left yesterday?—but I forced myself to stay in, taking off with a swift rush of arms and legs, moving straight toward the diving dock. Of all the things I’d listed in that letter years ago, jumping off the high dive had seemed like the easiest thing to complete. All I had to do was swim out, climb up the ladder, and leap.
Simple.
And yet.
Even now, as I clambered up onto the dock, determined, I was utterly terrified. Fifteen feet suddenly felt infinite, a jump into the abyss of nothingness, a place I might never return from.
I gripped the sides of the ladder, the rungs endless above me. But still, I took a step onto the first one and shivered in the cool evening air. I pushed myself up to the next, and then again and again, until I was finally on the high-dive platform, at the top of the world.
All I had to do now was jump.
“Millen!”
Mack was standing on the dock of the boathouse, waving his arms overhead at me. He was a human lighthouse, brightening up the sky, and trying to guide me home through the water.
Adrenaline pulsed up my spine as I lifted an already-pruning hand and waved.
“Hi!” I shouted back.
He dashed inside for a moment, and then ran out through the side door, jogging to the beach. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I told myself I’d jump off the high dive!” I explained. “In my list!”
The boathouse door slammed shut again, and I looked over to find Nick, Trey, Eloise, and Linus gathered on the steps. They were shapeless blobs from all the way out here, especially in the murky, fading light. But Nick seemed to be holding something like a champagne bottle in his hand, and I gave them all a little wave.
Eloise moved toward the beach, hands cupped at her mouth. “I didn’t tell them you were coming!”
I gave her a thumbs-up, thanking her for keeping the promise I had asked her to make when we’d said goodbye at the hospital.
Mack’s head whipped between her and me as he took a couple steps into the water. He raised both his hands in confusion, and I knew this was it, my first and last chance to finally do the thing I wanted more than anything.
“Mack!” I screamed through the quiet, and somewhere across the lake a dog barked, almost certainly alarmed at the noise I was making. “I love you!”
He stood there, frozen, his hands on his hips, the way he always stood when he was trying to figure things out. Then, without a word, he hopped a few steps deeper into the water and dove in.
He swam faster than when we raced, slicing a straight line through the water, from the shore directly to me.
My chest tightened, terrified, as my hands searched for something to hold on to. But my phone was in the car, and my hair was now too short to be a satisfying distraction. All I could do was stand there and watch as he got closer and closer.
Finally, he was just below me, treading water, staring up at me as he caught his breath.
“Hi,” I said again. My voice was peaking, like a microphone too dangerously close to an amp. “I love you.”
For once, Mack was speechless. He didn’t even crack a smile.
“I’m in love with you. I have been for years,” I blathered, peering down at him. “But nothing about it ever made sense to me.”
“That sounds bad,” he said, the look on his face shifting from blank to skeptical.
“Wait, hold on,” I said, resisting the urge to panic, shut down. “Let me figure out how to say this.”
I found my breath and steadied myself.
Then I tried again.
“I’ve been working really hard to follow this path I set up for myself years ago. What I thought I needed to do to live an easy and happy life. I literally tried to check the right boxes, you know? But nothing about any of it actually made me happy.”
I was babbling now, almost frantic, the words unstoppable. But with each one, I could feel a lightness settle in across my body. The more I said, the better I felt.
“It turns out, happiness doesn’t come from shit being easy. I think—and I may be wrong—it comes from surviving the hard stuff and doing it with people you love. And, I love you. I want to do the hard stuff with you. I don’t know how, with you going to California. Also I quit my job this morning, so I have zero plans. I normally think everything out, but I haven’t thought this out at all, clearly.”
There it was. The truth, in all its messy, humbling glory. Speaking it out loud hadn’t been nearly as scary as I’d imagined. It felt complete, like the moment you pressed the final piece into a jigsaw puzzle.
It had taken forever. But suddenly, everything fit.
Mack simply nodded, and then dove underwater, swimming the last few feet until he reached the raft. I peered over the edge of the platform and watched as he scrambled up onto the dock below me and then climbed the rungs of the diving platform ladder, two at a time. He said nothing when he got to the top; all he could do was press a hand to his hip as he caught his breath.
We stood there on the small slab of wood, no more than four feet wide, staring at each other.
Finally, he opened his mouth.
“Millen,” he said, “I thought I told you that I can’t let you jump off the high dive at night.”
I let out a huff. “That’s seriously what you—”
He pressed a finger to my lips and then dragged it down to my chin gently. His whole hand cupped my face, the caress of his fingers setting off fireworks along my jaw.
“Because it’s not safe. And the idea of anything happening to you, of you getting hurt or losing you, makes me sick to my stomach. I was getting ready to drive down to Boston tomorrow morning to talk to you, but clearly, in true Clara Millen form, you beat me to it.”
I laughed, a shallow gasp. It was the sound of pure, sweet relief. “I always beat you.”
“I know,” he said, nodding. “You do. Just like you beat me to saying ‘I love you’ first.”
His other hand found the curve of my lower back, pulling me a step closer to him. “And I do love you,” he said. “A scary amount.”
And then he kissed me.
Frantic, like it was the first time.
Tender, like we’d been doing this forever.
Shouts rose up from the shore, a chorus of cheers in the distance.
Our friends were still watching.
“Oh my god,” I said as I pressed one final peck to his lips.
“Everyone’s in a festive mood,” he explained, nuzzling against my neck.
“Because of Sam,” I said, assuming they’d dug up a bottle of champagne somewhere for a toast to Olive.
“Yes,” he said, and then he took a step back, his eyebrows furrowing into something serious. “But also because Marla and Steve stopped by this afternoon. Turns out the cash offer from our friend Brad the Glamper was dependent on a loan that fell through yesterday. The cash doesn’t exist.”
“The cash,” I repeated back, “doesn’t exist.”
“That’s right,” he said with a solemn nod. “That means no tennis courts or yoga studios.”
“But what else does it mean, Mack?” I said, not wanting to push him, despite everything I hoped he would say.
“It means I’m going to be spending all day tomorrow filling out a lot of paperwork and hoping that the bank approves my loan,” he said.
“Are you…”
He finished my question before I could get the words out.
“What, scared? Yeah, shitless,” he said with a shake of his head. “But also, I’m kinda not.”
“Yeah.” I nodded slowly, reaching down and snaking my fingers through his. “I think I know exactly how you feel.”
Our eyes locked on each other, and I knew I was grinning just as hard and foolishly as he was. He pulled me closer, bringing our hands to his chest, and the familiar comfort of his body settled everything inside of me.
“What do we do now?” I asked as I tucked myself against him, his arms protective and warm against my back. We were sixteen feet in the air, in the dark, in the middle of the lake, surrounded by the endless unknown.
“We jump off,” he said matter-of-factly. “And swim back to the shore.”
“I thought you said I shouldn’t do that at night,” I countered.
“I said you shouldn’t do it alone,” he corrected.
When he caught me rolling my eyes playfully at this, he reached up and squeezed my earlobe between his fingertips, giving it a soft tug. “Also, aren’t you the one who told me we weren’t doing shoulds anymore?”
Before I could reply, we were interrupted by a distinct sound overhead, the steady drumbeat of wings. I looked up to find a loon, stretched out wide above us, gliding through the air toward the surface of the lake. There was nothing graceful about its landing; it skidded to a stop with an awkward flap of its feathers, spraying water in its wake, as it settled with a loud flutter.
But just as quickly, it relaxed and shook out its body. Then it coasted for a moment, nonchalant and at ease, before diving underwater, like it was right back where it needed to be.
“So what are we going to do, then?” I asked him finally, squeezing his hands tightly.
“Millen,” he said, smiling at me in that beautiful, familiar way, his teeth grazing his bottom lip, his eyes solely on me. “We’re just gonna have to jump. Together.”