“You’ve experienced a lot of loss in your life, June.” His words catch me off guard, sending a lump of emotion up into my throat. “Maybe it’s time to cut yourself some slack and just be for a while. Stop taking inventory of your supposed failures and fuck-ups and just appreciate who you’ve grown to be from it all.”

“Ezra Keen, are you turning into a life coach on me?” It’s good advice he’s giving me, but instead of saying that, I go to my default and use sarcasm.

He bumps me with his hip. “Seriously, June!”

I bump him back. “Okay!” I yell, and it echoes through the massive space. “I’ll do my best.”

He gives my hand a squeeze. “Good.”

We take our time packing up the picnic, and I do one more twirl around the dance floor before we leave. It’s dark outside now, but the moon casts the whole deserted island in an eerie white light.

Ezra takes his time driving back to Avril Island. The moon is full in the sky and reflects off the water, which is now inky black in the darkness. We pass cottages lit up from within, the light glowing warm, reflected off wooden walls, the dark silhouettes of their occupants moving around inside. This was always my favorite time to go for a boat ride—sliding through the night, being a voyeur, catching glimpses into other people’s cottage lives.

Nearing the dock, Ezra tells me he arranged to stay over if I want him to. I do. The thought of having company through the night is very appealing, and I’m relieved that my confession didn’t scare him away.

We’re in no rush, since we have all night, so we sit on the end of the dock with our legs in the water and drink some more wine. We hurry to fill each other in on all the years we missed. His are stories I’m hungry to hear, and he leans into mine with the same interest. When we were kids and we saw each other for the first time at the beginning of summer, we didn’t run off to play. We found some quiet place to sit and caught each other up on everything that had happened over the winter, and it’s the same now, only this time we have thirty years to cover.

The wine has long been finished and I’m suddenly desperate to get out of my mother’s dress and into something more comfortable, so I suggest heading up to the cottage.

It’s dark and quiet inside, but I don’t rush to turn on any lights or music. The stillness wraps us up in it and makes the rest of the world suddenly disappear. Without saying anything, I take Ezra’s hand and lead him upstairs to my room.