Scooter stands and waves at Derek and then flips him the bird. Derek honks, his laughter echoing across the water, before he hits the gas and speeds away.

“My turn,” Scooter says. He self-consciously pulls off his T-shirt emblazoned with his company logo and then steps out of his shorts. He is wearing longish trunks, and though his body has softened since his younger days—he indeed has a little belly—my heart quickens, and I have difficulty taking my eyes off him.

“You look great,” I say.

“Liar,” he says.

“I mean it.” I reach into the cooler. “Glass of rosé?”

“I think there’s a beer in there with my name on it,” he says.

“Is your name Stella?” I ask.

“It is today,” he says, smacking his stomach. “I need one to add to my six-pack.”

I pull off the cap and hold the beer up to him, and—as he takes a long draw—I can’t help but remember Scooter’s body when he was young.

“Remember when girls would give you their numbers on the chain ferry when you’d take your shirt off?” I ask.

“I miss those days,” he says with a laugh. He takes a seat as I pour a glass of wine. “You know,” he continues, his voice growing soft, “the only number I wanted was yours.”

“What?” I ask, putting the bottle of Whispering Angel back in the cooler and taking a sip. “You never asked. You had so many girlfriends. We were just friends.”

“You,” he says, “always seemed out of reach.”

“Me?” I ask, sitting up straighter.

“Yes, you. You were the city girl with loads of friends, headed to college with her future all planned out. You always seemed destined for big things.”

“So did you, Mr. All-State Quarterback with a college scholarship.”

Scooter looks at me and then out at the lake, taking a sip from his beer, his cheeks already growing red from the sun. “What if the big thing we were always destined for was each other?”

The warmth in Scooter’s voice makes my heart stop for a split second. His words seem to drift on the lake breeze like the seagulls overhead who are interested in our picnic. I look into this man’s eyes, the kid I met on Lakeshore Drive, the teenager who became my friend, the man who is now becoming my boyfriend.

What if he’s right? I think. What if this was always meant to be?

I think of what Frank said regarding my maiden name and how it is German for innkeeper.

What if this has all been my destiny? I think. What if I just finally started paying attention? Do any of us pay attention to the signs in our lives?

“I think you may be right,” I finally say, my voice shaking.