“She’s been feeling extra emotional,” Eddie explains patiently, taking a sip of his wine. “It’s the hormones; it’s the move.”
“I’m going to miss you so much,” Monica wails, suddenly pulling me into a hug. I brace myself against the chair so I don’t fall onto her.
“Mon, don’t kill her,” Eddie says.
“Sorry,” she mumbles into me, not letting go. “I’m really going to miss you, Piper.”
Okay, I hate goodbyes, so I’ve been pretending this whole time that she’s really not going anywhere or that she’s just going for a short while and will come back. But now she’s crying and giving me no choice but to face the music.
Shit.
I’m crying now too.
“I’ll come visit,” I tell her, though honestly, how will that be possible? Are they allowed to have normal people as friends? It’s not like I can just drop by the palace or wherever they end up living.
“I know, but it’s not the same,” she says, pulling back. She waves her arms at the ocean. “I’m going to miss this too. Miss being here next to you.” She turns her head to see Harrison walking out with the wine. “And Harrison. Harrison, my man. How am I going to get on without you?”
Harrison seems a little taken aback to find us having emotional meltdowns, but he takes it in stride. He hands me my drink. “You’re going to be just fine. You have Eddie. He does all right most of the time.”
“Thanks, man,” Eddie says.
Harrison winks at him. “You’re welcome.”
“But things back home are so scary,” she says. “So busy. So noisy. I just want to stay in this fog forever.”
“Look, the fog is lovely and October is always nice here,” I tell her. “But soon it will be November, which is rainy and cold and awful. December is saved only by Christmas. Then there’s January, which is the absolute worst. You’ll pray for snow to break up the monotony of the rain and the gloom and the fact that it gets pitch black at four thirty p.m., but the snow never comes. Believe me, you are better off in the city with people and bright lights and all those things.” I pause. “And, you know, you’re royalty, and you’ll be in a palace, so that helps too.”
“Besides,” Eddie says, “the other day you said you were craving noise and people and chaos. Which means it’s the right time to go.”
Monica sighs and wipes her tears with the heel of her palm, her lower lip pouting. “I guess so. Doesn’t mean I’m not sad about it.”
“We’re all sad about it,” Harrison speaks up. He clears his throat, looking thoughtfully at them. “The two of you are the only people I’ve really known for such a long time. There was the army, and then there was Eddie, and then there was you, Monica. To be honest, I’m having trouble myself coming to terms with what’s happening.” He glances at me and gives me a warm smile, the kind of smile that makes my heart leap. “I’ve talked about this with Piper a lot. She knows I want to stay. That I’m choosing my new life here. But that new life is still scary, and it’s going to be different. And I wish you could stay here in this house for as long as you can, but I understand that you can’t. You’re doing what’s best for you both, and what’s best for the baby.”
Monica sniffles. “Damn it, Harrison. Don’t make me cry again.”
“Technically you never stopped,” he points out.
“Oh,” she grumbles, waving him away dismissively.
“Hey, come on,” Eddie says, walking toward us. “I didn’t invite you both here so we could sit around and cry all night. I invited you here so we could celebrate. Say goodbye to the old times, welcome in the new beginnings. And get rightly smashed.”
He raises his glass of wine.
We raise ours.
Monica raises her mug of tea.
“To the best next-door neighbors a girl could ever hope for,” I say to them. “Despite the men in trees, and the paparazzi camping outside the gate, to throwing this handsome, grumpy, sunglass-wearing mystery man my way, I couldn’t have asked for a more eventful summer. You changed my life. And it won’t feel quite like home without you both next door. All I know is that I am immensely grateful that you brought Harrison into my life. At least I get to keep him.”
Harrison puts his arm around my waist and kisses the top of my head. “You’ll never be rid of me.”
“He’s not joking,” Eddie says with a laugh. “The man will become your shadow—you’ll never be able to shake him.”
I grin up at Harrison. “I’m counting on it.”
Epilogue
Two Years Later
“They’re heeeeeeeere,” my mother says, channeling the creepy little girl from Poltergeist.
Except she’s not holding on to a staticky TV, but poking her head out onto the deck where I’m sitting with Harrison, nursing a glass of wine. It’s the middle of summer, the sun is hot and glinting off the waves below us, and the two of us have been out here all afternoon, getting sufficiently buzzed while waiting for the arrival of our favorite people.