Page 141 of Sweet Caroline
She gasps, then pulls away. “I have something for you.”
“What?” My brows quirk together as she retrieves a small gift bag from beside her camping chair.
“A sobriety present,” she explains, holding it out to me. “Open it.”
I dig out the item inside, making quick work of ripping back the tissue paper from the little framed pencil sketch.
“Baby, is this—?” But I don’t even need to ask. It’s our hands—inexplicably but unmistakably our hands. My pinkie hooked to hers in a promise. The promise I made to us both. To keep going, to keep fighting—and to stay sober. Already welling up again, I lift my eyes to my beautiful girl. “How did you…?”
“Ada did it for me.” Caroline tucks herself under my arm as we gaze down at the drawing. “Hope it’s okay.” She scrunches her nose in a sheepish apology, peering up at me. “I had to show her the photo you sent me so she could get your hand right.” Lifting up on her toes, she presses a gentle kiss to my cheek. As she brushes her chilled fingers along my stubble, she smirks. “Don’t worry, though. She promised to take the knowledge of your sad-boy beard to the grave.”
31
CAROLINE
Icrouch beside the bucket of sand and roll up my coat sleeve, holding the lighter out over the roman candle Gus planted in the center—the whole thing looking like it’s some kind of explosive birthday cake. “I’ve never done this before,” I say, hesitating a bit. “How does it work? What do I do? And is this even legal?”
After having given us some time alone to talk—and cry and kiss and cry some more—the three worst actors in Lennox Valley declared their contrived plant conversation complete and came back outside to join us.
“Well,” Gus drawls smoothly at my side, “you’ve come to the right guy with your questions. Basically, light stick, stick go boom.”
“That your professional explanation, you fuckin’ caveman?” Miles deadpans from over my shoulder.
“Hell no!” Gus says on a laugh. “But there isn’t much more to it than that. You’re gonna light it, then back up and let the magic happen.”
“Right. Okay…”
“And don’t worry,” he adds. “The fire marshal hooked me up with a permit.”
“A permit?” Miles echoes. “Fuck, man, we reallyarealmost thirty.” He crouches at my side, gently rubbing my back. “Want me to go first? Like, if you wanna watch one before you?—?”
“No, I got it.” I shoot him a brave smile. “Trying new things, right?”
“Attagirl.” He kisses my temple. “Light it up.”
I flick a flame to life and, when the fuse catches, hurry to back up a few steps, dragging Miles with me.
He pulls me in front of him and wraps his arms around my waist as we watch the shots whiz into the night sky.
We Are the Championscomes on as Gus steps up to light the next one.
“Seriously, man, have you got a song for everything?” Miles asks.
“Almost like it was planned,” he retorts with a wink, then sings along in an obnoxious falsetto that has us all laughing—and Miles groaning. As Gus’ roman candle fizzles out and he passes the lighter to Jude, tiny raindrops start to speckle our cheeks.
“Damn,” Jude says, blinking up into the night. “Olena, we better do ours together before we get rained out.” Tucking their coat collars around their necks, they huddle up and put their fireworks in the bucket side by side. It’s not long before twin sparkling arcs zing upward, leaving fizzing crackles of smoke in their wake.
“Alright,” Gus says when the pair are spent. “Guest of honor.” He hands Miles the last one and sweeps an arm toward the launch bucket in invitation as the rain picks up. “But, uh, maybe be quick about it.”
Shrugging against the rain, Miles heads over and makes fast work of lighting his.
“Happy one year, buddy,” Gus says, giving him a good-natured slap on the shoulder as they both back up to watch the first shot launch.
Olena whoops as the little yellow fireball shoots skyward. “Aww, gold stars, Miles!”
Miles grins and squeezes me tightly to his side.
“Proud of you,” I whisper, rising up to kiss his cheek.
