Page 51 of Someday Not Soon

As we settle back down at our table, I can see the wheels turning in Ella’s mind, envisioning plans and letting scenarios unfold.

“Got some ideas brewing?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

She glances at me. “No. I don’t have the guts to do something like that.”

“You’re capable of anything you put your mind to.” Wanting to lighten the mood, I tack on, “Look at you with Scrabble—won the whole damn thing without even scoring the highest amount of points.”

She fights a smile, before shifting in her chair. “I don’t know the first thing about starting and running a business. Plus, you know, the whole not living here thing.”

“Anything’s possible,” I say, careful not to push too hard, but hoping she’ll consider any possibility that could bring her happiness. “And if you ever did want to go for it, you’d have a whole team behind you. You wouldn’t be alone.”

Her eyes lock onto mine, searching for reassurance, for something solid to hold onto.

If only she knew how committed I already am.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Ella

Present

Jude droppedme off at my parents’ home a few hours ago, and I’m already going crazy. With the house officially on the market as of today, the entire situation feels like it’s in purgatory. An empty house, waiting to sell, while I sit here in limbo, stuck between returning to my life up in Washington and tempted by the idea of starting a new one here.

Pilates has been a constant for me for fifteen years. Even when I stopped teaching after college, I’ve still always managed to head straight to a class after work to get out all my pent up stress. It’s the only thing that’s kept my brain sane all this time.

The idea had never even occurred to me to open my own studio. I’m a nine-to-five girlie, not a badass business woman that can run an entire business.

But now that the idea has been planted, I can’t shake it off. It’s a perpetual nag that only grows louder in the quiet of this depressing house.

I have zero emotional attachment to this childhood home of mine. Instead, it has become a burden jam-packed with the ghosts of my parents’ coldness. The number of times I had been hugged could be counted on one hand, and the times they said they loved me were even fewer. The dinners that were eaten in complete silence. And that feeling in general, like I was always a stranger intruding into their lives.

Here all alone, the silence feels suffocating, pressing in from all sides despite the music and audiobooks I play to attempt to fill the void. The house has no furniture, besides the ridiculously overpriced foldout bed from Jude that I still feel guilty about. The kitchen is equally sparse, stocked with nothing but a single pack of cereal, a half gallon of milk, and a bunch of bananas—all items Jude forced me to take because he knows that most nights I’d rather skip dinner than cook.

There’s a constant awareness that resides in me at all times, that I want to be back at his house. Back in that chair, watching the sunrise. Back between the wall of his chest and the comfort of his arms as we sleep. Back to that feeling of belonging, with him, where everything felt right.

It’s like an itch that I want to scratch, but know it’ll only bleed if I do.

Delaney

Rumor has it that you’re a dirty Scrabble player. Do I feel a tear in my eye? I’m so proud of you.

Ella

Oh god. How did you even hear about that?

Delaney

Jude told Noah, and Noah told Madi, and Madi told me.

Ella

Who would have ever thought a letter game would be such good gossip.

Delaney

It’s not gossip, girl. Noah said you should have seen Jude’s face when he was talking about it. He was all proud of you and shit.

Ella

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