We drink our champagne, and then Trish peeks her head out the door. “Coast is clear,” she says. “Guests are all on the beach.”

She escorts me out of the inn. Evan is waiting for me at the top of the steps leading to the beach.

“You look so beautiful, Mom,” Evan says.

“Thanks, honey,” I say.

“I’ll see you on the other side,” Trish says, giving me a big hug. As she starts down the steps, she turns. “And I know a great attorney if this doesn’t work out.”

“This is it,” I say.

“You ready?” Evan asks.

I nod and look down at the ceremony I’ve orchestrated on the beach.

A boardwalk has been set up from the stairs to the shoreline for the guests to walk. I hired a “shoe valet,” so guests can trade in their dress shoes and heels for casual flip-flops that have my and Scooter’s names and wedding date printed on them. A small arbor sits by the lake where we will exchange vows. The arbor is encircled by lake stones in the shape of a heart. I built a sandcastle in the shape of the inn nearby, and photos of Scooter and I sit behind it.

Wow, I think. This turned out prettier than I imagined.

Thank you for cooperating, Mother Nature, I continue, admiring an afternoon in the upper seventies with a light wind.

I take a deep breath and my son’s hand, the music starts, people turn and we descend the stairs.

As I walk down the boardwalk, the train of my simple white dress floats on the lake breeze. When I reach the end, Trish is waiting. She is holding a bouquet of roses and peonies from my garden.

“Ironic choice,” Trish whispers with a wink. “Roses.”

I can no longer control my tears when Evan gives me a soft kiss on the cheek and Scooter takes my hand. You look beautiful, he mouths. I love you.

“Welcome, friends and family,” the minister from the tiny church on the lakeshore begins. “This is a love story that began right up there.” He stops and points toward Lakeshore Drive. Guests turn to look. “A love story that began when Scott and Adie Lou were kids. A love story that began when Adie Lou first called Scott ‘Scooter’ because of his adolescent transportation.”

The crowd titters.

“A love story that started out as a friendship,” he continues.

As the minister speaks, I can feel myself leave my body. I am hovering over the crowd, and I can see my life flash before me.

I am ten years old, my head out of the car window, excited to spend the summer at Cozy Cottage with my parents.

I am fifteen years old and working on the chain ferry with Scooter.

I am nineteen and in love with Nate.

I am a young mother in my twenties.

I am in my thirties and in a loveless marriage.