Wyatt and I finished our champagne as the party died down. “Let’s go home,” he said, taking my hand. “Well, 2012 was a pretty good year, but 2013 is going to be even better.”
Wyatt and I strolled along Higgins Beach as the sun rose, enjoying the privacy before daylight and all the crowds. He picked up a shell that had a hole bore through the middle and put it up to his eye. “I see you,” he said, “and you’re beautiful.”