She didn’t realize she’d closed her eyes again, but there he is. Still there, still perfect.

“Hi, Malcolm,” she mumbles, sleep finally overtaking her.

His laugh sounds broken—too short and gasping.

Twenty-Three

MONDAY

Overbearing sunlight wakes Joy up in the morning. She half-expects Malcolm to still be there next to her bed, but he left at some point during the night. Memories of what happened while he was there are fuzzy at best. Too tired to hold on to images, the details wash away, leaving only vague impressions.

Malcolm was sad about something.

They talked about how they met.

Things didn’t go the way he expected with Summer?

Joy gives up with a sigh while rolling out of bed.

The day’s agenda had been modified to include making an appearance at the neighborhood holiday party Summer wanted to go to after getting the invitation from the boating invaders. Before that, they’re going downtown, and then hiking after lunch.

Joy retrieves the bag Malcolm gave her to assess the items and figure out how to tailor them to her style. A pair of soft brown leather hiking boots that aren’t terrible to look at. A couple of high-rise breathable leggings in a few different colors. Some pants she would donate to a shelter when she got home. A black long-sleeved shirt that doesn’t look like anything special but according to the tag has “special moisture-wicking technology built in.”

Joy would just . . . change her clothes in the car when they got there.

Her outfit of the day is a simple teal gingham top with puff sleeves, a deep V-neck, and thick ties that wrap around her waist to make a bow in the back. The top matches well with flared jeans, letting her live her best seventies disco chic life. She dresses quickly—well, quickly for Joy—and barely restrains herself from running down the stairs to meet Fox in the kitchen.

Was she maybe a little too excited to see him? Yes.

They’re the real deal now, until they say goodbye at the end of the trip tomorrow. And Joy doesn’t want to waste a single second.

Fox appears, rounding the corner to the kitchen. Joy ambushes him. “Let’s go.” She hands him a still-hot mug of tea.

“Where?” he asks, a smile in his gravelly voice but not yet on his face.

“I’m coming with you on your morning walk.” Joy unlocks and opens the sliding glass door. “Which way?”

Fox points to the left. They set off for the lake’s edge, walking along the path. The mornings have all been uniform in their weather and beauty. Partially cloudy skies. Gentle waves. The barest hint of chill. Early morning birdcalls and other wildlife noises Joy doesn’t recognize but has a healthy fear of. There could still be bears out there. Overall, though? She could really get used to a place like this.