Page 82 of The Friendly Fall

He laughs sardonically. “Funny you should say that. I talked to her friend Amy about the pictures she put on her cute littlephotography page. I know you two arejustfriends. A woman like her is way out of your caliber, bud. She’s not made for some rinky-dink town like this.”

I don’t even know what to say, but most of me wants to jump across the counter at him. “I think she likes it here.”

“She belongs in Chicago … withme.” Devon meets my gaze, his brown eyes seeming almost black. “I know I messed up when I let her go. So, I’m going to make it right, and she’s going to bethrilledwhen she sees this.” He digs into his suit pocket, pulling out a little black box.

I stare at the massive diamond as he flips it open, and for the first time, my heart actuallyhurts.Eliza was heartbroken over Devon. I know she wanted to settle down with him, and he didn’t. So, would this fix it for her? Would she go back if he asked?

Surely not.

“Don’t look too down.” Devon’s voice dips, and I look up from the counter where I was just zoning out. “I get it … she’s the kind of girl who wraps you around her finger with her laugh, and while she might not be what the world defines as beautiful, she’s the most beautiful woman in the world to me.”

The comment is a little confusing, but I just nod. “She’s a really special person.”

“She is,” Devon agrees, and I’m stuck trying to decide if I still feel like punching him, or if it’s just the heartache talking.

It’s clear the guy makes more money than I’ll ever have, just based on the cuff links he’s wearing. Not to mention, I know good and well that the women around here would be drooling all over him.

And for the first time in my life, I feel inferior to someone.

“Anyway, could you give me the directions?” Devon asks, his voice much friendlier now. “I just wanna talk to her.”

“Yeah, sure,” I say, the wheels turning in my head. Suddenly, all I hear are sirens in my brain.

Ineedto tell Eliza how I feel before this guy gets to her.

I just need her to know…

Just in case.

I know it’s a long shot. But I’ve been holding back my true feelings for her long enough. I can’t let fear stop me anymore. She needs to know how much she means to me. And I need to let her know before it’s too late—before she makes a decision that could change everything. Before she lets Devon back into her life.

“So, it’s actually on the other side of town,” I begin, pulling out a map from the bottom counter, and then proceed to give him the absolutelongestroute to get there. “You’ll want to watch out for the construction here.” I point on the map.

“This town is a nightmare,” Devon grumbles, smoothing his suit as he picks up the map. “Thanks though.”

“No problem,” I say, feeling just a tiny ping of guilt.

I mean, I kind of feel bad for leading the guy on a wild goose chase, but then again, this guy hadyearsto lock Eliza down, and he never did.

Which is why I have to tell her how I feel. Right now.

Because Eliza deserves someone who will fight for her. And that person is me.

Love is worth the risk.

As soon as Devon’s Mercedes pulls out and heads off down the street, I close up the shop, leaving a note for my mom. I slide into the driver’s seat of my truck, knowing that I don’t have a lot of time, and proceed to fly across town, taking all the shortcuts that I know. However, as I pull into the driveway, I note that the truck is gone. Eliza’s car is there, though.

I knock on the front door, rubbing my hands together to try and warm them up. It’s freezing out, and I left my coat back at the store. When no one answers the door, I peek around back, seeing the door to the workshop is open. I jog across the light layer of snow, and push the door open a little wider.

“Eliza?” I call out, taking in the mess of the workshop. There’s wood everywhere, and I chuckle at the sight, not really sure what to make of it. I don’t see anything newly built, but I don’t really look that hard, either. I just need to find Eliza.

I step a little further into the shop and notice a piece of paper laying out on the counter. Curiosity gets the best of me, and I lean over, my heart jumping into my throat.

To the man who holds myheart,

I’m sorry for everything that’s happened between us—

I stop there, running my fingers through my hair. I don’t want to read any more of the letter. It’s clear who she’s writing about…

---