Page 20 of The Now in Forever
Taking a seat, I run my palm on the arm rest, the painted wood smooth under my palm. “No, nothing like that. I used to make pottery with my dad. Growing up, he was always throwing clay on the wheel in the workshop behind our house. He would’ve loved this.”
Ed dips his head in understanding. “Oh, I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“No,” I say quickly. “He’s not dead.”
Ed’s brow furrows in the most adorable wrinkle. He has a very serious face most of the time—strong jaw, prominent cheekbones, piercing eyes—but when he’s confused, he looks more like a sweet wrinkly puppy.
“Text him, then.Dad, try glass blowing…yadda yadda.”
“We don’t text much.”
“Why not?”
I shrug. “When I graduated from high school, my parents got divorced. They sold the house, and my dad moved across the state. He has a new house, a new wife, new kids. When I visit, I feel out of place. Over the years, we slowly lost touch. Like a thread on a sweater that was pulled one day, until suddenly you wake up cold. You know?”
He smiles. “That’s a very writer brain analogy. It’s good though. You should write it down.”
My cheeks warm at the compliment. “Are you close with your parents?”
He purses his lips. “I was close with my mom when I was a kid, I thought. But I’ve never met my dad. He left when I was a baby.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Had he told me that on the perfect day and I forgot? I know I told him about my parents getting a divorce. I was positive I remembered every second of that day, but now I’m not so sure. Not that it matters. Ed’s clearly forgotten the whole thing.
“It’s fine. I was a handful.” He chuckles.
“Still are, I’m sure.”
“Heyyyy.”
We both laugh, but it fades quickly. I put a hand on his arm; his skin is warm from sitting in the sun. “Every baby is a handful.”
He nods absently, but I can tell he’s not really hearing me. I try changing the subject so he doesn’t lose interest in the conversation all together. “What are you doing on your phone?” I raise my eyebrows. “Candy Crush?”
“Candy Crush? What year is it? No.”
I laugh.
“I got an idea from Cape Disappointment. What if one mistake marred not just the life of the person who made it for eternity but everyone they ever came in contact with? And what if, in this case, it was a murder?”
“Hmm, sounds interesting. What about the time travel manuscript?”
“Yeah, so instead of going into the future. These two people have to go back in time to solve the murder. If they can find out who did it, they can fix the terrible future. They fall in love along the way. But if they solve the murder and stop it, the pair will also never meet.”
Goose bumps rise on my arms. “Ooh, that’s good.”
His smile is so wide, I expect a cartoon twinkle to appear.
Robin pops up on the path. “You two ready to roll?”
We get back in the car and drive up, up, and up a windy patch ofroad that eventually gives way to gravel. We make it to the top just as car sickness is about to sink its teeth into me. Usually I’m fine in the car. It’s just all the twists and turns. I hop out, gulping the fresh air.
The building looks like something Frank Lloyd Wright would be proud of, all sharp angles. The deck juts out over the cliff. There’s no sign, nothing that denotes this is a restaurant instead of a private home, except the full parking lot and the sound of voices and cutlery coming from the deck.
“Wow.”
Robin smiles and links arms with me. Nathan and Ed are already at the door speaking to the hostess. We follow them through the dining room to a high-top table on the deck. The view is breathtaking. It looks like we’re floating right above the ocean; the waves crash on the rocks below. We order drinks, wine for Robin and me, a beer for Ed, and a Coke for Nathan, who’s offered to drive back too.
“Well, glass blowing was a lot of fun, but did you notice we were the only people in there under sixty-five?” Nathan asks, grabbing Robin’s hand.
