And with Nolan’s warm fingers between mine, I do. I let the whales swoop in on a wind much cleverer than I, and I don’t think of what it will cost me to leave this snow globe tomorrow.

It’s a walkable distance to the marina, where boats of all shapes and sizes bob on gentle waves. Our footsteps echo across the wooden planks as Nolan guides me to a modest blue pontoon boat, his tight hold on my hand the only indication that he’s bothered being near the water.

“Okay?” I ask.

He squeezes my hand. “I’ll always be okay when I’m with you, Amelia.”

When I look up at him, his dark hair blends into the night sky and his eyes become tiny constellations. I want to look at him forever, but tomorrow’s departure is settling into my stomach like a stone and I’m having a hard time forgetting.

“You’ll have to be okay after I’m gone, you know,” I say.

He tilts his head to look at the sky. “I know,” he says quietly. A pause. “I talked to my editor this morning.”

I suddenly become very interested in our linked hands.

“And?” I whisper.

He nudges my chin up and I try to trace the patterns of the stars in his eyes.

“It does help.” His voice is soft. “It helps that others can know shadows of who Avery and Emily were by reading about Orman. It helps.”

There’s a significant pause.

“I’m sending them the final book.”

“Nolan.” I breathe. “Are you sure? Really?”

His smile is lopsided, and he looks down at our feet, embarrassed. “I am. It’s not perfect, but it doesn’t have to be. It’s … for them.”

I throw my arms around his neck and I’m kissing him. Not a drowning kiss, not a final-good-bye kiss, but a kiss of wonder and surprise.

It’s another too perfect moment, made all the less real by my leaving tomorrow. It makes me hesitate and I draw back, but before Nolan can ask what’s wrong, Alex is thumping his way down the dock.

Wally gets to us first, licking our knees before crashing onto the pontoon boat, standing on the worn plush seats and barking at nothing and then rushing busily to the back of the boat and out of sight.

Alex’s face is that mixture of exhaustion and relief that comes at the end of a particularly long day. His hair is askew again, and when he sees me looking, he leans down so I can brush it back into place. He straightens and claps his hands together.

“You’re probably wondering why I summoned you to the dock. The bad news is we are sadly bereft of a floating vessel. The good news is Mr. Larson agreed to loan us his for the evening.”

“But what about Nolan’s—”