Page 108 of A Novel Love Story

It persisted.

And through them, so did we.

35

The Only Road Out

THE WOMAN AT THEfront gate noticed us and waved. “Hello there. I think I’m a little late to the party.” She had a kind smile and a gap in her front two teeth. She carried a suitcase with her and a bag slung over her shoulder, and almost dumped both of them down as soon as she let herself in through the gate.

Anders quickly moved closer to her to take a bag. “Let me help …”

She held up a hand. “Oh no, I’m fine. Thank you, though.” She re-situated her bag, and then looked him up and down, and stretched out her hand. “I’m Bea.”

“Anders,” he replied, taking her hand.

I watched them from the shadow of the garden, feeling my heart swell and sink at the same time. Rachel Flowers once said in an interview that she rarely wrote herself into novels. She likened different characters to putting on different wigs and stepping into different kinds of shoes.

“None of them areme,” she had told an interviewer once, when asked which character was most like her. But then she had paused for a second,and thought about it. “But if I had to choose, I’d say Bea is the closest—though don’t ask me to sew anything!” she added with a laugh, and the expression on her face settled into a content grin. “She’s the life I’d have loved to lead if I didn’t happen into this one. I like this one too much, though.”

Even in stories they found each other.

Anders and Bea looked at each other for a little too long in the soft and warm light of the inn, as though they’d seen each other in a dream.

Bea asked, smiling, “I’m sorry, but do I know you?”

“I … don’t think so,” he replied, his voice tight.

“You just look so familiar is all,” she added, and then turned her gaze to me. “Hi.”

“Hi,” I replied, waving. My chest felt tight. I could barely breathe. “Everyone’s inside. They haven’t cut the cake yet.”

“Oh, excellent! I love that part,” she added, dipping around Anders with one last lingering look, before she hurried up the steps and pushed open the front door. A moment later, there were cheers and shouts of “Bea!” and “You made it!” as everyone came in to hug her and welcome her home, like a lost family member homeward bound.

The reception would last well into the night. I could stay, and see what happened. If Maya and Lyssa would dance together, if Gail and Frank would finally settle their war of condiments, where Ruby and Jake disappeared to, if Beatrice …

A knot formed in my throat.

No, I didn’t think I wanted to know, even though it felt like closing the book just before the last page.

“I think I have to go,” I said, deciding in that moment.

Anders gave me a confused look. “You don’t want to see how it ends?”

“No. You coming?” I asked.

He hesitated, glancing back through the open door to the wedding, to Beatrice, and that was all the answer I needed. It was the only answer he could give.

I gave him a smile that meant it was okay—because itwasokay, because this was different than the last time I’d had my heart broken. This man was kind, and he was sad, and if he could find a happy ending in his past, then who was I to stop him? “Go get her, tiger.”

To that, he kissed my forehead in that bittersweet way goodbyes always were. “Find me in the romance section,” he whispered.

And I braced myself for my heart to break—

But it didn’t.

Maybe I was stronger than I gave myself credit for. Or, maybe, whatever I was leaving was worth it, because ahead of me was Pru, and the book club, and my story.

Whether or not tonight had a happy ending, I wouldn’t be around to find out. Maybe that was for the best. Maybe, in some stories, the ending didn’t matter as much as the journey. It was a romance, after all.

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