“I wish we could just take a walk,” she said.

“Too cold, and we can’t walk where we’re going.”

He opened the door of his truck. She climbed up on the running board, sat down in the passenger seat. He slammed the door and for the brief moment it took him to walk to the other side, she was alone in the truck. It smelled of pine, of soil, of outdoor life. Blobs of sap stained the carpet. The console held a cell phone, a few discarded beer bottle caps, jagged at the edges, and a pencil with a chewed eraser end. The cab was actually quite clean compared to the Camaro he’d had in college. She took a deep breath as he opened the driver’s-side door, jumped in.

He turned and smiled at her—his smile, his beautiful smile, was all for her. All the unsolved disputes with Phil, all the echoing problems paled now. The only difference between this smile and the one she remembered from years ago was the slight crinkling beside his eyes, the wider chin. His eyes seemed to give off the same static electricity as her sweater.

She turned from him. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise. You’ll love it.”

She believed him.

He maneuvered the truck out of the parking spot, then turned right at the end of the road. She relaxed as the heater pumped pine-fragrant warmth into the cab. She leaned against the back of the seat, closed her eyes. Still waiting. And although she still wasn’t sure what she waited for, it wouldn’t be much longer.

The truck swerved, her head popped up. “What . . . what was that?”

He grimaced. “Sorry. You looked so beautiful there, your head back on the seat . . . I almost missed a stop sign. Sorry.”

She rolled her eyes.

He laughed and turned back to stare out the windshield. “You are unbelievably beautiful.”

“Nick . . . thank you.” She looked out the side window. They left the Savannah city limits and headed for the beach road. Shadows from overhanging live oaks offered a canopy below the sky and a shield from the outside world, and she felt like the lane was a world unto itself, with its own heartbeat. The truck emerged on the other side to crisp, ironed lawns.

He eventually stopped the truck on the side of a gravel road, put it in PARK. She opened her window and leaned her head out on the windowsill and sighed. “The marina. Where are we going?”

“Reese lent me his boat—the big trawler with the inside cab. We’re headed to Oystertip.”

“Nick, it’s freezing. We can’t go out there . . . we don’t have—”

“We have everything we need.” He pointed to the bed of the truck, where parkas, hats, cameras and what looked like camping equipment were piled high.