Taking Teddy Home - 2. Chapter 2

Teddy and I dated for just over a year before he proposed. In that time, he’d always been the perfect gentleman, never pushing me, never rushing me. I learned that not every guy was after just one thing. Our year together was filled with romance, real, tangible romance. When we held hands, it felt electric. When we hugged or kissed, it felt like the world stopped spinning. The connection we built felt too good to be true.

But as we approached the one-year mark, my stomach started to churn. This was what had happened with Alex. He’d broken up with me almost exactly a year after we’d gotten together. Was history going to repeat itself? Should I tell Teddy how deeply in love I was, only to have him walk out the door?

I didn’t have to.

We were supposed to meet at Andy’s place for drinks with a few friends. I had no idea Teddy was going to propose. Andy told us to be there at 7:00 p.m.

We arrived right on time, Teddy picking me up and driving us to Andy’s apartment. I should have noticed the signs, the goofy smile on Teddy’s face, the bounce in his step, the way he kept checking his jacket pocket. But I didn’t. I could feel something was different, but marriage? That was the last thing on my mind after what had happened with Alex.

When we got to Andy’s apartment, there were decorations up. Andy explained that his parents had been there a few days ago to celebrate Lunar New Year. I was surprised, we usually celebrated holidays together, but I didn’t overthink it. I also noticed Teddy sneaking off with Andy, but I didn’t pay much attention. They were friends, after all, and I trusted them both completely.

After about an hour of drinks, food, and conversation, Andy made an announcement.

“Friends, we’re here today to witness something special. I knew this day would come, but I didn’t know who would be the one to set it off. Teddy, do you want to take over?”

What was going on? What was Andy talking about? What was Teddy taking over?

Teddy stepped forward, his hands trembling slightly. “Everyone, thank you for coming today. I’m super nervous, and I never thought I’d be in this position. About a year ago, I came to Andy’s place for a small party, never imagining my life would change for the better. That night, I met someone. At first, he ignored me. I tried to charm him, but as the night went on, it was clear he wasn’t interested. But I couldn’t get him out of my mind. There was this pull, and I knew I had to take the next step. He wasn’t going to, so it was up to me.”

Wait. He’s talking about me. But what is going on?

“Carter,” Teddy continued, his voice steady now, “the last year has been amazing. I’ve never known anyone like you. You’re charming, funny, and a breath of fresh air. You’ve laughed at my dumb jokes, rolled your eyes at my stories, and given me the time of day when anyone else would have walked away.”

He took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto mine. “Carter, I want to spend my life with you. I want to build a life with you. Will you marry me?”

I just stood there, my face burning and my mouth hanging open. Was this real? Was this actually happening? What should I say? Yes? No?

“Carter?” Teddy prompted, his voice soft but insistent.

“Yes,” I finally managed. “Yes, Teddy. Yes, I will marry you!”

I couldn’t believe it. I was getting married! Teddy reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring box, now I knew what he’d been fidgeting with in the elevator. He opened it, dropped to one knee, and asked me again.

“Carter William Duncan, will you marry me?”

As I made the long drive into Saskatoon, I couldn’t get that memory out of my mind. It felt like it had happened yesterday. I reached over and touched the urn, my heart aching with the weight of what I’d lost. I’d been driving for over seven hours and knew I’d need to rest before heading toward Winnipeg and eventually Ontario.

Teddy had asked me not to call his parents, and I wanted to respect his wishes. But a part of me hoped that seeing the urn might finally make them understand what they’d lost. Maybe, just maybe, it would give them the chance to say the words Teddy had always longed to hear.

But that would be another day. For now, I needed to sleep. I needed to rest my mind and my body. With each passing hour, each passing day and kilometer, I was getting closer to St. John’s, Newfoundland, and the Atlantic Ocean. Closer to taking Teddy home.

The drive from Saskatoon to Winnipeg was long, over eight hours with fuel and food breaks. Each passing kilometer felt like a step further away from the life we’d built together. The road stretched endlessly ahead, but my heart kept pulling me back to the moments we’d shared, the dreams we’d made. I wanted to stop, to turn around, to go back and never let Teddy out of my sight.

When I finally reached Winnipeg, I decided to stay a few days to rest and recharge. The drive had drained me, not just physically but mentally. The silence in the car was heavy, broken only by the occasional crackle of the radio or the rush of wind as a truck passed by. Sometimes, in those quiet moments, I’d glance over and see him there, Teddy, sitting in the passenger seat, his face lit by the golden light of sunset. He’d tell me stories, his voice soft and familiar, and for a moment, it was like he’d never left.

Andy continued to call, checking in to make sure I was okay and asking if I needed anything. Often, all I needed was to hear his voice. He was my anchor, the one person who understood what I was going through. “You’re doing great,” he’d say. “Just keep going.”

But it was hard. So hard. The silence in the car was deafening, and the weight of the urn on the passenger seat was a constant reminder of what I’d lost. Sometimes, Teddy’s presence felt comforting, like he was still with me, guiding me. Other times, it was haunting, a reminder of all the things we’d never get to do together.

“I’m taking you there now, Teddy,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the hum of the engine. “To the icebergs, to the ocean. Just like you wanted.”

The wedding was amazing. My parents had met Teddy several times, as had Andy’s, and he was already like a son to both sets of parents. Andy’s dad stepped up and offered to give Teddy away, while my parents walked me down the aisle. I knew it was painful for Teddy, he’d called his parents to share the news, but they’d hung up on him. I had never seen him cry in all the time we’d been dating, but that night, after he proposed and everyone had left, he broke down at Andy’s place. He called his parents again, hoping for some kind of reconciliation, but they didn’t answer. How could any parent be so cruel to their child?

It wasn’t a big wedding, but to us, it felt monumental. Our parents were there, along with our siblings, close friends, and extended family. The ceremony was held in a sunlit garden, the air filled with the scent of blooming flowers and the soft strumming of a guitar. Andy’s dad walked Teddy down the aisle, his hand resting reassuringly on Teddy’s shoulder, while my parents escorted me. The officiant’s words were simple but heartfelt, and when we exchanged vows, there wasn’t a dry eye in the crowd.

The reception was a blur of laughter, toasts, and dancing. Andy gave a speech that had everyone in stitches, while my mom shared a touching story about how she knew Teddy was the one for me. Teddy’s best friend from Ontario even flew in to surprise him, and his toast brought tears to Teddy’s eyes. It was a perfect summer day, warm but not too hot, with a gentle breeze that felt like a blessing.

But even in the midst of all the joy, I could see the shadow in Teddy’s eyes. He tried to hide it, but I knew him too well. When we danced our first dance as a married couple, I whispered in his ear, “You’re not alone anymore. You’ll never be alone again.” He held me tighter, and for a moment, it felt like the world was just the two of us.

The drive to Toronto would be long, well over twenty-two hours, with several stops along the way. I decided to take the route along Lake Superior, a place Teddy had often spoken about. When he was younger, he and his family used to visit Thunder Bay, where his aunt lived. He had fond memories of summers spent on the lake, of the warmth and love he found in Aunty Linda’s home.

When Teddy passed away, I called Aunty Linda. She was shocked and grief-stricken. She had been the one to step in when Teddy’s parents disowned him, helping him relocate and giving him the love and validation he so desperately needed. Over time, she became Aunty Linda to me as well.

I dreaded visiting her. She hadn’t been able to make it to our wedding, and this would be the first time we met in person. At least, the first time I met her. As I crossed the border into Ontario, a huge sign welcomed me, but to me, it felt more like a goodbye. How could I stretch the days? I knew I couldn’t.

It took me two days to reach Thunder Bay. I had Aunty Linda’s address and phone number saved on my phone. When I called her from the city limits, she started crying at the sound of my voice. I couldn’t hold back either. I was excited to finally meet her, but I wished Teddy were here with me, not his remains. After what felt like hours, we both calmed down, and I told her I was on my way. I knew there would be more tears when we met.

Teddy had always said that Aunty Linda was the closest thing he had to a mom after coming out to his family. As I pulled into her driveway, I noticed her small, quaint home. The lawn was well-kept, but the house showed its age. The fence looked like it might topple in a strong wind, but there was a peaceful quality to the place, like you could lose yourself within its walls.

I parked the car, shut off the engine, and whispered to Teddy, “Almost there.” Could he hear me? I didn’t know, but it felt like the right thing to say. I got out of the car, retrieved the urn from the passenger seat, and walked toward the porch. Aunty Linda stepped out, her arms open wide. She was in her 70s or 80s, not frail but tired, like she’d seen both the beauty and the ugliness of the world. We hugged and cried, with Teddy between us. I hadn’t expected to be so emotional, but I was.

She led me into her small living room, where the smell of a freshly prepared meal filled the air. The lights were on in the kitchen, and the window was slightly open, letting in a cool breeze. I set the urn on the dining table and sat down on the sofa. Photo albums were spread across the table, each one filled with memories of Teddy’s life. We flipped through them together, Aunty Linda pointing out pictures of Teddy as a toddler, a teenager, and finally, the man I had married. I looked away at one point, my eyes landing on the urn resting on the table just a few steps away. How could this have happened? We had so many plans, to grow old together, to raise a family. But it wasn’t in the cards for us.

I spent several days with Aunty Linda, talking about Teddy and the life he’d lived. She told me how she’d always suspected he was different and how she’d tried to protect him as much as she could. When he came to visit in the summers, she made sure he felt safe and loved. Teddy had thrived with her. She was the first person he came out to, and though it hadn’t gone well with his parents or siblings, Aunty Linda had always been there for him.

Before I left, I helped her mend the fence. She protested and said someone was supposed to fix it, but I couldn’t just leave it. I hoped it would hold up for a few more years, and I promised myself I’d come back to repair it again. I didn’t know how much time she had left, or how much time I had, for that matter. If the universe could take Teddy away so young, who was I to assume I had all the time in the world?

Finally, after almost a week, it was time to leave. I was nearing the end of my journey, but I had one more difficult task ahead. I had to try reaching out to Teddy’s parents one last time. Aunty Linda looked at me with sad eyes, and I knew what the answer would be, but I had to try.

I called all the numbers Teddy had given me, his parents, his brothers, his sister. No one answered. I left voicemails, letting them know I’d be in Toronto in a few days and that they could call me anytime to meet. After the last call, I hugged Aunty Linda and said my goodbyes. All she could say was, “I’m sorry.” With that, I left the safe, loving confines of her home and got back on the highway, continuing my bittersweet journey with Teddy by my side.

The drive from Thunder Bay to Toronto took me around Lake Superior, through Sudbury, and around Lake Huron. I kept my phone on, glancing at it constantly, but no calls came.

As I neared Toronto, I called Teddy’s friend Ethan, the one who had surprised him at our wedding. Ethan and Teddy had grown up together, attended university together, and when Ethan got married, Teddy had been his best man. Meeting Ethan again brought back memories of our wedding and the happy moments we’d shared since then.

I spent a few days in Toronto, regaining my strength before the final leg of the journey to Ottawa, Montreal, Quebec City, New Brunswick, and finally St. John’s. By the time I was ready to leave Toronto, Teddy’s parents still hadn’t called. Neither had his siblings. Their silence hurt more than I expected. He was gone now, did they still resent him that much? Teddy had rarely spoken of them, and I’d never pushed him. Perhaps one day, he would have told me more, but that day never really came.

There were so many good times with Teddy, but there were bad times too. One of the hardest was when we fought about his parents. I thought I was helping. I thought if I could just get Teddy to talk to them, they’d see how amazing he was and everything would be okay. But I didn’t understand how deep the wounds went.

“You don’t get it, Carter,” he said, his voice shaking. “They don’t want me. They never did.”

I tried to argue, to tell him that people could change, but he cut me off. “Stop,” he said, his voice sharp. “Just stop. You don’t know what it’s like to be rejected by the people who are supposed to love you.”

The room felt too small, the air heavy with the weight of unspoken words. I could hear the clock ticking on the wall, each second stretching into an eternity. Teddy’s voice cracked, and I could see the tears welling up in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall.

It was the first time we’d really fought, and it left a mark. For days, we tiptoed around each other, the tension between us palpable. Finally, I broke the silence. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I just want you to be happy.”

He looked at me, his eyes filled with tears. “I am happy,” he said. “With you. That’s enough for me.”

It wasn’t the last time we’d fight about his family, but it was the first time I truly understood the depth of his pain. He always said he’d tell me more about what had happened, but I never pushed him. It had to be on his terms. Unfortunately, that day never came.

The drive from Toronto to Ottawa was short, only four hours. Once I got into Ottawa, I did a quick drive-by of the Parliament Buildings. I didn’t see much, just wanted to check it off the list before heading to Montreal and finally Quebec City, where I’d spend a day or two.

After settling into my room at the Fairmont Le Château Frontenac, I couldn’t help but remember our first snowboarding trip to Whistler. By then, both Teddy and I were working and making decent money, but Teddy insisted we stay at an Airbnb he’d found. I took one look at the listing and saw it was well off the beaten path, and not in a good way. But he was adamant.

“It’ll be fine, Carter,” he said. “Besides, why spend so much staying right in the Village? This place is only twenty or thirty minutes away, and they said there’s a shuttle within walking distance.”

I relented. What a disaster that turned out to be! Yes, there was a shuttle but we’d have to walk ten minutes to get to the stop. I could live with that, even with having to carry our snowboards.

When we got to the Airbnb, the keylock didn’t work, and we couldn’t get in. We contacted the owner, who finally let us in, only to find someone still there! The owner assured us they’d be gone in a few hours and told us to come back. Teddy just shrugged. “These things happen,” he said. “It won’t put a damper on the trip.”

Four hours later, the previous guests finally left, but the place was a mess. The owner offered us a discount, but it didn’t make up for the state of the unit. The place reeked of stale beer and something vaguely chemical, like someone had tried to cover up the smell with cheap air freshener. The carpet was sticky underfoot, and the couch had a suspicious stain that I didn’t want to investigate.

“Teddy. No. Absolutely not. We are not staying here.”

“Carter, come on,” he said, his voice pleading. “I’ll clean things up! It’ll be fine. I promise! Besides, if we leave now, we’ll lose out.”

“Teddy… seriously? This place is a dump. We’re twenty minutes or more from the Village, we won’t be able to order food without waiting forever, and do you really want to clean up after someone else?”

He stood there like a scolded child, his shoulders slumped. Finally, he sighed, and we left.

We found a place right in the Village, expensive, since we hadn’t booked ahead, but worth every penny. The room was beautiful, with a view of the frozen lake, a common pool, and a hot tub. Best of all, a shuttle left for the ski hill every thirty minutes.

Teddy was always anxious about spending money. I could just imagine him here with me now: “We’re staying where? The Frontenac? Do you know how expensive that is? We could’ve stayed at a Holiday Inn and spent the money on other stuff!”

Teddy… Teddy… Teddy… I know he meant well. He was always looking out for us. Even buying something as simple as a can of tuna or a bag of rice, he’d pull out his phone and calculate the cost per gram. I quickly put a stop to that, I did the grocery shopping, alone -- and he did the cooking but even his lists included alternatives to brand name items.

I’ll never forget the time he tried to work out the cost per sheet of toilet paper at Costco!

Still, I always forgot about everything when he flashed that goofy smile at me. I’m sure he knew that’s all it took for me to laugh, shake my head, and move on. But he used that look sparingly, like he knew its power. I wish he’d used it more often. I miss it. I miss him.

The view from our room was stunning, you could see the Saint Lawrence River stretching out into the horizon. If only Teddy could have been here with me, he would have loved it.

Since the next part of the trip was going to be quite long, I decided to stay here for a few days and take advantage of the amenities. They had a pool, so I spent some time relaxing and doing several sets. Afterwards, I got cleaned up, dressed a little nicer, and headed down for dinner at Champlain.

As I was led to my table, the waiter asked if anyone would be joining me. I almost blurted out, “Yes, my husband Teddy will be here shortly,” but, of course, he wasn’t. I stopped myself just in time and quickly said, “I’ll be dining alone tonight.” She left me a menu, made a few wine suggestions, and went on her way.

Dinner was good, but not great. Honestly, five-star dining had much to be desired. I’d probably have to head to McDonald’s after this because I was still hungry. OK, Teddy, you win this one. I can almost hear him saying, "Told you so, Carter," from the great beyond.

While the Frontenac was a beautiful hotel, and Quebec City was steeped in history, I had a journey to complete. The following morning, I checked out and continued my drive to Edmundston, where I would stop to fuel up, grab something to eat, and then head to Fredericton for the night. It wasn’t a long drive, but I was getting closer to St. John’s, which is where I would be leaving Teddy.

After spending the night in Fredericton and stocking up on some junk food, I drove through Moncton, Amherst, Truro, and Antigonish, eventually making my way to Cape Breton Island. There, I took a ferry from Sydney to Channel-Port aux Basques, which brought me to Newfoundland.

Once the ferry docked and I was finally off, my phone rang. I thought it might be Teddy’s parents, but it wasn’t. It was Andy.

“Hey, how’s it going?” I asked.

“I’m good. But how about you? I see you made it to Newfoundland. You holding up okay?”

I’d turned on location sharing with Andy, he insisted. He was always looking out for me, even from across the country. It didn’t really help in any practical way, but I guess that wasn’t the point. Even if I couldn’t remember why I’d agreed to it, it made me feel a little safer.

“I’m doing okay,” I said, though I wasn’t.

There was a long pause. He could probably tell. Every kilometer, every day that brought me closer to the end of this journey only made it harder. The closer I got to St. John’s, the more it hurt. The more I wondered if I could really go through with it. Would I be able to let him go? I had promised Teddy I would, but the reality of it was so much harder than I’d imagined.

“Carter, I know it’s not easy. But you’re doing the right thing. You promised him you would.”

“I know,” I said, my voice trailing off. What else could I say? I had driven across Canada to fulfill Teddy’s wishes, but now that I was here, I wasn’t sure I was ready for it. I had been pushing this moment away for so long, but now it was here, and I wasn’t sure I could follow through. Deep down, I think I’d been secretly hoping I’d never actually make it to Newfoundland, that I’d just keep putting it off. But I couldn’t do that to Teddy. I couldn’t do that to his memory.

We talked for a few more minutes before I finally said goodbye and started the long drive to St. John’s.

The drive to St. John's took me around the outer edge of Newfoundland. There was no way to get there otherwise… what was it… as the crow flies. The next eleven hours were going to be difficult, but I was prepared for this. I had to be prepared. I had driven across Canada for this.

As I drove into Gander, I was exhausted and decided I would spend the night there. From here, St. John's was another three or four hours away. I’m sure I could have made it if I pushed myself. But honestly, I didn’t want to. I stayed at the Comfort Inn in Gander. Teddy would have approved.

As I checked into the hotel and went to my room, I took my shoes off and placed the urn carefully on the table. I sat down on the couch and stared at it.

We made it, Teddy. I made it.

That’s when I broke down. Weeks of driving, of remembering our life together, it all came crashing down on me. I tried to stop myself. I told myself I’d hold it together, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. I was mad at Teddy for leaving me. I was mad for not being in the car with him that night. I was mad at the drunk driver for hitting him head-on and taking him away from me. I was mad that he lived, and Teddy died.

I was mad that Teddy wouldn’t grow old with me. I was mad that we wouldn’t raise a family together and spend weekends at a summer cottage like he did when he was younger with Aunty Linda.

I was mad at the world. I was mad at the universe for giving me so much happiness, only to take it away.

I was furious at how unfair it all was. Why him? Why not me? What was the point of all the love, all the plans, if it could all just be ripped away in the blink of an eye? I slammed my fist into the couch, the pain from my knuckles shooting up my arm, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

I was angry at myself for being here alone. For being the one to carry this burden. For being the one left behind, still breathing, when Teddy had been robbed of everything. I should’ve been there with him. I should’ve been in that car. I should’ve died too.

The guilt was suffocating. It felt like a vice tightening around my chest, squeezing the breath out of me. How could I have let him go? How could I have promised him I’d be strong when I was falling apart at the seams? I wasn’t strong. I was broken. And I hated myself for not being enough to save him.

Teddy deserved better. He deserved to grow old, to have all the things we dreamed of. And I’d never get to give him that. I’d never get to see him smile at me across the kitchen table, holding our child in his arms. I’d never get to share our retirement, watching sunsets on a porch, growing old together like we’d always planned. All those little moments, the ones that seemed so small at the time, would never happen.

I wiped my face, but the tears kept coming, and I couldn’t stop them. I had no more fight left in me. The anger and the guilt and the pain mixed together, swirling around inside me like a hurricane, threatening to tear me apart.

I couldn’t even hold onto the one thing I thought I had left, our memories. Because they just hurt too much.

I don’t even remember falling asleep, but I must have. I woke up, and it was dark outside. It felt like I’d been asleep for weeks. But when I looked at my watch, I saw it was only 8 p.m. I’d only been asleep for a few hours. This was the first time in weeks that I’d actually slept, without dreaming of Teddy, without seeing his goofy smile. Was I already losing the memory of him? No. It wasn’t that. I was just tired. Physically and mentally exhausted. That’s all it was. I could never forget Teddy.

Reluctantly, I got up, undressed, and stepped into a long, hot shower. I stayed under the water longer than I probably should’ve, letting the heat soak into my bones, hoping it would ease the ache. I got out, changed into something more comfortable, sat on the softa and skimmed the menu, and ordered something simple from room service.

Within an hour, the food arrived, and I ate in silence. I tried to enjoy it, but it was tasteless. It felt like I was just going through the motions, trying to force some kind of normalcy into the chaos. There was no joy in it. I finished what I could, then left the tray outside in the hallway and closed the door.

I took the urn to the bedroom and climbed into bed, pulling the covers over me, hoping for more sleep. Tomorrow, I’d drive to St. John’s, and that would be the end of my journey.

The next morning, I checked out of the hotel, stopped at a local restaurant, and forced myself to eat something. But like yesterday, my heart wasn’t in it. I knew what today meant, I would be letting go of Teddy, and that was all that weighed on my mind. I ate what I could, paid my bill, and then drove to St. John’s.

As I drove into town, I followed the signs to Cape Spear, the easternmost point of Canada. It was stunning. Peaceful. Tranquil. Truly a sight to see. The vast expanse of the ocean stretched out before me, and for a moment, everything felt still. The weight of the world seemed to pause as I stood there, just taking it in. It was the perfect place to say goodbye.

As I stood there, gazing at the vast expanse of the Atlantic Ocean with the urn cradled in my arms, I felt a strange mix of emotions, sadness, yes, but also a sense of peace. Teddy was finally where he wanted to be, and I had kept my promise. Around me, families laughed and children played, their joy a stark contrast to the weight I carried. The wind off the ocean was cold and salty, carrying the faint cries of seagulls and the distant crash of waves against the rocks.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

The voice startled me. I turned to see a man standing nearby, his eyes fixed on the horizon. He had a rugged, weathered face and a thick Newfoundland accent, a true Newfoundlander, or “Newfie,” as they were often called.

“It is,” I said. “But I don’t see any icebergs.”

“No, you won’t,” he replied. “It’s late in the year. If you want to see icebergs, you’d have to go to Southern Labrador. Usually, you can spot them there until the end of August.”

“Oh,” was all I could muster.

His eyes drifted to the urn in my arms. “I see you’re holding something there. Is that what I think it is?”

“Uh, yes,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, his expression softening. “You should know, you’re not permitted to do that here on the shore. You need to be out on the water.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that. Are there boats available?”

“In fact, yes,” he said. “I operate one. Usually, I do iceberg tours, but this time of year, I do general sightseeing, and, well, I help folks in your situation too.”

“Could you help me with this?” I asked, my voice trembling.

“Of course,” he said. “But I’m done for the day and it’s late to be on the ocean. Unpredictable. Why don’t you come back tomorrow? The name’s Jesse. And you are?”

“Carter,” I said. “My name’s Carter.”

“Someone special, I suppose?” he asked gently.

“Yeah,” I said, my throat tightening. “My… uh, husband.”

Jesse nodded, his eyes filled with understanding. “Indeed, someone special. Tomorrow, Carter. I’ll take you out. It’s on me.”

“No, I can pay,” I said quickly. “I’ve driven across Canada. I made him a promise.”

“Then drop a donation,” Jesse said with a kind smile. “But I won’t charge you.”

“Thanks, Jesse. That’s very kind of you.”

“It’s kind of you to do what you’ve done,” he said. “Not many people would drive across Canada like that. I’m guessing you’re by yourself?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I needed to do this alone.”

“I understand,” Jesse said. “Listen, I need to get going. Don’t forget, tomorrow around 10 a.m.”

“Thanks, Jesse. I’ll be here.”

As he walked away, I turned back to the ocean. The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the water and painting the sky in shades of pink and orange. It was happening. I couldn’t turn back anymore. Tomorrow would be the last day I’d be with Teddy.

Teddy. You’re home.