His eyes pierced into mine, more golden now than they were before. He leaned in. For a moment, it looked like he was going to capture my lips, but then he kissed my cheek. “Good night, Babe. Thanks for a wonderful date.”

“Thank you,” I said in return, blushing. “Tonight was…” There was only one word for it. “Magical.”

We parted ways. In the lamplight, I watched him walk away. I felt so full—more full than I had felt in my entire life. Full of experiences and happiness and hope. I clung to it greedily. I wanted so much life, wanted to swell up and just fly away, a balloon adrift in the sky. Away and away and away.

Even though we’d left each other a few minutes ago, I wanted to see him again. I didn’t want to go to sleep, because part of me felt the memory of today would slip out of my tight hold. That was what had happened with Chad and Penny, after all. The two people who I thought would always be mine, without a shadow of a doubt. But now they were just ghosts of good times creaking around in my memory.

Levi wasn’t a ghost. I didn’t want him to be.

I wanted this summer to last forever.

twelve

The weekend passed in the numbing monotony of lighthouse tours, shifts at Busy’s, and the never-ending cycle of baking, cleaning, eating. Rinse and repeat. I perfected Nutella cookies, thin and brittle like gingersnaps, and buttery Earl Grey shortbread cookies.

I sank my teeth into a shortbread cookie that wasn’t perfectly round. The sweet, smoky notes of tea blended with the crushed vanilla beans I’d sprinkled into the cookie batter. The flavor was incredible—like sweet, crumbly autumn goodness. Like fragrant, floral tea and crisp breaths in brisk air. Like fingertips warmed by hot cocoa and enormous woolly sweaters wrapped around me.

My famous cinnamon waffle cookies completed the trio, brushed on top with a maple glaze and a dusting of brown sugar. On several trays, I arranged dozens of each cookie, layering them to maximize space. I stretched plastic wrap over the top and bunched it up at the bottom, pressing it flat.

I stacked the trays in the basket of my bicycle and pedaled to Busy’s to get ready for the fish fry.

Inside, Lucy was slicing vegetables, a table fan aimed straight at her. “Hey,” she said, covering her mouth with the back of her hand, yawning. “That for the fish fry?”

“Yup. I’m just gonna put this away.” In a mock-whisper, I added, “Before people start gobbling them up.”

“Good idea,” Lucy deadpanned. “But leave a few out for us; getting ready for the fish fry is hungry work.”