Page 85 of The Now in Forever
“I’ll be out there. If you change your mind. Oh, hey, my buddy said someone else called, asking about that bookstore.”
An icy pang of fear stabs my heart. I haven’t decided what to do yet. I received an offer for both the job in Portland and the one in New Haven. I asked them both for some time to think about it. I should take one of them. It would be the smart, sensible thing to do, and if I take the one in Portland, Ed may move back there. We could try to be a couple for real. But I can’t stop thinking about the bookstore.
“Did they put in an offer?”
He dries a glass as he answers, “I don’t think so. Said they seemed really interested, though.”
Shit. I take my new journal from book club out of my bag and make a list of all the things I need to do. Each stroke of the pen calms me down and cements my decision.
I finish my glass of wine and my hummus plate, while Kyle runs back and forth behind the bar, keeping up with the constant swarm of people. There’re so many couples. A young couple, her in a white sundress and him in nice jeans, sharing French fries. An older couple sitting at the bar, her with a clear cocktail and him with an amber one,both with matching white hair. Big couples, small couples, short couples, tall couples. It’s like I’ve wandered into a romantic Dr Seuss book. I need to leave.
The walk home is quick, and I go straight to my room. I was going to work on my book some more, but I can’t look at another couple right now, not even the one I made up.
I call the Fortune Falls Business Improvement Foundation and make another appointment with a consultant. Then I call Anh, and we talk over my plans. I haven’t heard her so excited in a long time, and it makes me feel once again like this is right. She’s on board, ready and willing to help with whatever I may need. I assure her the only thing I need from her is her encouragement and maybe a little help with paperwork. With the sale of the house and with the expertise from the FFBIF, I should be able to set up a small business SBA-backed line of credit.
After we hang up, I pull up my text thread with Ed. I’d like to talk to him one more time before I make this giant leap. One text wouldn’t hurt right? I type:
How’s it going?
And delete.
I try again:
So, about that bookstore?
Delete.
I miss you.
Delete. Delete. Delete. I can’t be the one to text first. I’m the one who went to LA, and look how well that went. Stick to the plan. We’ll meet in Portland for the awards dinner. He’ll be in a tux; I’ll wear the same dress I wore to the book launch. It’s stunning, though, so I’ll look gorgeous. I’ll put my hair up so he can take it down later. That’ll be hot.
My fingers tap on the phone, but my mind is lost in my fantasies.When my eyes focus on the screen, I’m scrolling on his Instagram page,again.
There’s nothing new, really. But then it occurs to me, I’ve never looked at his tagged photos. The screen fills with copies ofVexin all sorts of staged pictures. A carefully manicured hand, nails the same color as the cover, holding it up next to a full bookshelf. The top of a stack of other books, including Kafka, Salinger, and Hemingway. Open and next to a cup of coffee with a little latte heart on top. It goes on and on.
But the photo that catches my attention is right at the top. It’s Ed and Chloe, her in light-denim cut-off shorts and a white tank top, him in dark pants and one of his band tees. He has her swooped up in his arms, his biceps flexed, even though she must weigh practically nothing. Her long leg is kicked out, and she is whispering something in Ed’s ear. His smile is devilish.
How many times has he swooped me up like that? All of them usually end with him throwing me on the bed.
I click on it, a glutton for punishment. It takes me to another account, ChloeKramerOfficial. The caption reads:Valet Service.
Valet Service? What does that even mean? How long did he carry her? Did he carry her to her house? To his? Did they fall into bed, tangled in the same sheets we made love in?
I put the phone down and pick it up again over and over. There’s no mistaking it. Ed’s into her. He has to be. Even if this is just friends messing around, look at her. She’s gorgeous. She’s an actress, a starlet.
Fuck.
Without thinking, I dial. I want an explanation, and the only person that can give it to me is Ed. I want him to explain it all away. The phone rings and rings. I don’t leave a voicemail.
Trying to sleep, I toss and turn. I keep checking my phone to see if Ed’s called. Eventually I turn the ringer on so I won’t miss it. When I check my phone again for the two-hundredth time, I notice the time. 12:11 a.m. Kyle will be out on the beach.
I throw my cut-off shorts back on, feeling a lot less sexy in them after seeing how Chloe looks in hers, put a bra on under my tank top,and head out into the night. The air has cooled off. It’s that nice kind of chilly where you know it won’t last. When the sun comes up, it will be scorching again, but for now, the nip in the breeze sends goose bumps up my calves.
Kyle is easy to spot. The beach is deserted except for him, his Converse sneakers in his hands, the water reaching toward his feet. I run past a massive sea turtle made of sand then a mermaid riding a dolphin.
“Kyle!”
He turns, and I can see his smile even in the moonlight. When I reach him, he surprises me by wrapping me in a big hug, his long arms lifting me off the ground and spinning me around. “You came!”
