It was almost like walking in slow motion through quicksand, knowing that her own choices were the reason she was here. She’d pushed him away—she’d given up her second chance. Did she really feel entitled to a third?
She stepped outside into the darkness, the moon casting a yellowish hue over the ocean, over the lighthouse. The memory of her own laughter mixing with Cody’s echoed through her mind. They’d loved each other so wholly, yet they’d given up so easily.
She’d spent years wishing for—praying for—a second chance. How could she have discarded it with such ease? And why? Because there were challenges to overcome?
She walked in the shadows toward the lighthouse, as if it beckoned her over in spite of her sorrow. She’d been meant to spend her birthday right in that very spot, and now here she was—alone.
That cruel realization stung.
The night was warm, but there was a breeze coming off the ocean. The sound of the waves drew her in. Louisa loved this island. She’d loved and lost here on these shores. She found Cody’s number in her phone. She opened a new text message and was instantly reminded her last three messages had gone unanswered. She almost clicked it off without texting, but something stopped her.
Quickly, before she changed her mind, she typed, Happy birthday! and hit Send.
Seconds later, she saw a light just a few yards away.
She followed it and discovered the light was coming from a phone, held by a person, sitting in the sand near the ocean. The light went out, and the person didn’t move.
She opened her phone again and typed Cody? into a new text, then saw the phone light up again. She could barely make out his silhouette in the darkness, but she was certain that was him. He sat with his knees up, leaning on them, perfectly still.
Her heart leaped. He was here? He was at the lighthouse—at their spot? How long had he been here, and why hadn’t she come?
She started walking toward him but stopped. He hadn’t responded to her messages. His phone had gone black again, and now he sat in darkness. Was it possible he didn’t want to hear from her at all? Were her fears founded—had he given up on them?
No sense holding back now, though, was there? She’d come this far—she’d never forgive herself if she left without talking to him.
She continued walking but stopped again when he clicked his phone on and started typing. Her phone buzzed in her hand.
Happy birthday, Lou. I hope all your wishes come true.
Her eyes clouded over, and she tucked the phone away. “I hope so too,” she called out.
She couldn’t see his face, but she saw him stand. “Louisa?”
“What are you doing out here?” she asked as she approached.
When she reached him, he tore his gaze from hers and fished his wallet out of his pocket. He opened it and pulled out a small, folded white napkin. “I made a promise.”
In a flash, every detail of that day rushed back. It had been his idea. His way of giving them something to look forward to, of reassuring her that no matter what, they’d find their way back to each other on this exact day.
Her heart beat so loud and fast against her rib cage, she had to resist the urge not to clutch her chest in a sad attempt to quiet it down. She looked at him. “You came.”
He reached for her hand, brought it to his lips, and pressed a tender kiss to the inside of her palm. “Of course I did.”
She smiled. “I’m sorry I’m late.”
He shrugged lightly. “You’re here now—that’s all that matters.”
“I’m sorry for a lot of things,” she said.
“Can you tell me about them later?” He took her face in his hands. “Right now, all I really want to do is kiss you.”
“Okay. Kissing now, talking later.”
He kissed her tentatively at first, as if he were remembering how—but it didn’t take long for the memories to kick in, for the kiss to turn hurried, like their absence had made them both hungry for each other, for the love they shared, for the promise of a future.
She pulled away, her breath ragged, and let her forehead fall to his. “I missed you.”
He wrapped his arms around her the way she’d dreamed he would.
“I can’t believe you’re here.” She couldn’t hold him close enough.
“I screwed up, leaving like I did,” he said.
“I screwed up, pushing you away.”
He shook his head. “I understand why you did it, but I just realized our families are going to have to figure it out.”
She took a step back. “I think they are figuring it out. Your mom came to see me. She’s the reason I’m here.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the folded piece of paper Marissa had given her. “She gave me this.”
Cody opened and read it, then met Louisa’s eyes.
“She said she wanted us to be together,” Louisa said. “She said I make you happy.”
His lips tugged into a gentle smile. “You do make me happy.”
“Can I keep making you happy for the rest of my life?”
“Did you just propose to me?” He closed the gap between them.
Her eyes widened. “No!”
He grinned. “Bummer.”
She smiled back. “Happy birthday, Cody Boggs.”
He answered with a kiss so deep she felt it in every part of her body, making it a very happy birthday indeed.
PROLOGUE
Dear Emily,
As I write this, you are approximately six days, three hours, and thirty-two minutes old. We’ve been home from the hospital for four days, and I haven’t been able to stop looking at you the entire time. You sleep in a bassinet next to my bed, and I lie awake at night, listening to you breathe.
To be honest, listening to you breathe is all I do. I feel like it’s my sole responsibility to make sure that continues. It’s a little scary, if I’m honest. And I’m always honest. You see, you came as a bit of a surprise to me, and I guess that’s why I’ve been so nervous lately, in the days leading up to your birth. Because I don’t want to mess anything up.
I don’t want to mess you up.
People always talk about how wonderful it is to have a baby, but no one ever talks about how terrifying it is too. You see, I’m a little bit terrified, and I’m not sure who else to tell. I’m pretty sure my mother would use that fear against me somehow, so I’ll only share it with you, my little girl.
I’ll share it because I want you to know that sometimes we have to do things that are scary in order to get to something good. Sometimes the hardest things we’re faced with bring us the best results. It’s strange how that works, but it’s true.
You’re probably wondering why I’m writing you a letter when I could just pick you up and tell you this in person.
Well, I’ve always wondered about my own childhood. I remember once sitting on the floor of my friend Samantha’s bedroom, looking at her baby book. It was a scrapbook, I guess, and her mom had written all kinds of funny stories about Samantha from the time she was a baby and stuck them down next to photos of her at every stage of life. My mom isn’t the sentimental type, so I never had a book of stories. I don’t know what she was thinking about anything, and I wish I did. Maybe then I wouldn’t feel so alone.