Page 31 of First Love, Second Draft

“What do you mean? I just talked to him the other day on the phone, and he sounded great.”

“Well sure, he has his good days. But a lot of bad days too. From what Lizzy says that the dietician at the hospital says, which she heard from one of the phlebotomists who hired Mona to sell her house last winter, his days are really getting numbered.”

A bite of pancakes lodged in Noah’s throat. He shoved it down with lukewarm coffee. Cleared his throat. He really needed to go visit that guy. Should’ve already. “Hate hearing that. He’s a good guy.”

“One of the best. In some ways Luke sort of puts me in mind of Buck. Which is why we all think Buck wouldn’t mind seeing Gracie end up with him. And why Gracie might be ready to walk down the aisle again soon if she thinks it’ll make her dad happy before he goes.”

Well, it sure wouldn’t make Noah happy. And he had a hard time believing it would make Buck happy. Or Gracie. Nobody should be happy about this.

Noah slid out from the booth and dropped some cash on the table. “Good seeing you, Abe. Give my best to Lizzy. And congratulations again.”

Abe pushed his empty plate away. “Thanks. I hope what I told you didn’t run you off.”

“Nah.” Noah scratched his scruffy cheek. “You know I don’t give up that easily.”

Abe grunted. “True enough. I’ve seen you fight for Gracie before. Just thought you should know you’re going to have a little stiffer competition this time. My heart wasn’t really in it back when we were competing.”

“Yeah, well...” Noah glanced around the diner. Not a whole lot had changed during his absence. Which gave him hope. If he won Gracie’s heart before, he ought to be able to figure out how to do it again. “Think I’ll go pay me a visit to Bobby.”

“Good thinking,” Abe said. “Gracie never did go for the facial hair as I recall. Pretty sure that’s what swayed her from me to you.”

Noah rolled his eyes. “I don’t think I’d call what you were growing facial hair. Maybe more like peach fuzz.”

“Do you want me on your side or not?”

Noah smirked and tapped Abe’s shoulder with his fist. “See you around, buddy.” Time for Noah to up his game. Which for now meant a shave and a haircut—and a whole lot of prayer.

15

Gracie stared at the cursor blinking on the computer screen. All day, ever since Noah left for breakfast, she’d been typing word after word.

Then deleting word after word. Words that held zero zing. Words that made zero sense. Words she’d clearly forgotten how to string together in anything that might be construed as a story.

Maybe she should call her dad again.

No.They’d already talked once today, and he was adamant about her not visiting until after she met her deadline next week. He was right. The only thing she should be focused on right now was her story.

Five minutes later she still couldn’t focus on her story. “What is wrong with me?”

“Well, for starters you’re not supposed to be up here.”

Gracie flinched at Noah’s voice, then closed her eyes and took as deep a breath as she could with ribs that still hurt like the dickens. “What are you doing up here?”

“What areyoudoing up here? Hello, stairs? Not supposed to be climbing them alone? That whole falling and plummeting to your death scenario? Any of that ring a bell?”

Gracie gave up on her deep breathing exercise and flapped a handNoah’s direction without looking away from her screen. “Thank you for the concern, but I climbed them just fine.”

Okay, that might be the most liberal use of the wordsjust finein the history of mankind, but the important part was she had climbed them.

“Why are you even up here?” Noah asked. “Why aren’t you writing on the couch?”

She tutted as if the answer was obvious. “How am I supposed to add zing to my story if I’m not sitting at my special writing desk?”

Never mind that roughly two hours ago was the first time in her life she decided the monstrous old desk in the spare bedroom should be her special writing desk. And never mind that her special writing desk had yet to add one iota of zing to her story.

“How did you get up the stairs?”

She slammed the lid of her laptop shut, Noah’s nagging not helping in the zing department either. She started to suck in a deep breath, then remembered that deep breaths were overrated and painful. But so was meeting his gaze. So she settled for staring at the thinning tree branches tapping against the glass window panes above her special writing desk.

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