Page 4 of The Now in Forever
GPS informs me this is my turn toward the water. The road morphs into dirt. Finally, after some jarring bumps and clunks from my suitcases and boxes in the back, I’m at the two-story white house I’ll call home for the summer. The late-afternoon sun shines on the wraparound porch like a spotlight, and bubbles of excitement fill my chest.
Stepping out of the car, I stretch my arms above my head. The house sits on a small hill, so the ocean is visible even from down here. The second-story view must be amazing.
Robin walks out, the screen door slamming behind her, and runs down the porch steps. “You made it!”
“Barely.”
She throws her arms around me in a massive hug. I inhale her orchid shampoo, the same kind she’s used since we were fifteen.
We part and look at each other. It’s been years since we’ve seen each other in person—our girls’ trip to Puerto Rico right after that awful book signing at The Nook.
Robin’s long honey blonde hair hangs in loose waves down herback. Even though Robin and Nathan only got here a week ago, her normally fair skin is already a little tan.
Robin squeezes my hand. “It’s so good to see your actual face, not on a Zoom screen.”
I smile. “I was thinking the same thing.”
She links arms with me, and we walk toward the house. “Let’s get you a drink.”
We climb the porch stairs, and I follow Robin to the kitchen, to the left of the entryway. It’s delightful, with fern-colored cabinets and strawberry wallpaper. Robin pulls a bottle of rosé out of the fridge and sets it on the enormous kitchen island.
“We thought we could all go to The Vern for dinner. It’s that cute little bar on the corner. Did you see it when you drove by?”
“Mm-hmm. Sounds good. Cozy table for three.”
Robin takes two wineglasses out of the cupboard. “Not exactly.”
“Oh, who else is coming?”
She gives us both generous pours and hands me my wine. “Actually, you’re never going to guess who Nathan invited.”
The cold liquid is bright on my tongue as I take a sip. She’s always trying to fix me up. Robin loves love. So much, in fact, that she became a social media coordinator for a popular dating service. It’s not that I don’t like love. It would be great to meet someone and have something special, something that lasts, like what my grandparents had. But I’m not sure that kind of connection exists anymore. Anytime I’ve ever found it, it’s left me worse off than when I started.
Robin is smiling widely. “It turns out he was besties in middle school with none other than…”
Footsteps come from the stairs, definitely more than one set. Nathan walks in the kitchen, followed closely by a tall, dark-haired man with eyes the color of moss in a shady forest.
My heart is in my throat.
“The guy who wrote that book you picked for Story Club.”
The room tilts to the side as the wine sits heavy on my tongue. Robin’s still speaking, but it sounds like it’s through a paper towel tube.
My skin feels like the volume is turned up—the strings on the end of my shorts tickling my thighs, my soft shirt shifting against my stomach.
The suit jacket is gone, as are the ripped-up jeans. What hasn’t changed from ten years ago is the beat-up band shirt hanging loose on his broad shoulders, this one with a little brown monkey on it.
I know this sensation of everything being more.
I know this man.
It’s Ed.
SOULMATES
TEN YEARS AGO
Soulmates.I set the book down, and the last line I read trudges through my mind like the last mile of a long run. For a divorced woman on a journey of self-discovery, the author sure talks a lot about soulmates. Maybe she believes that to find herself, she must find her other half. I used to believe in another half. I was so sure everyone out there had that perfect person meant just for them. Just a few weeks ago, I was positive. Look at my grandparents. Up until recently I would’ve said look at my parents, but then they sat me down for the talk.
