Page 90 of The Now in Forever
But as soon as the money is there, I’ll make an offer on the bookstore.
CHAPTER 24
FRIDAY, AUGUST 16TH
There’s a tiny knot of anticipation that has wedged itself in my throat, and no amount of runs, or yoga on the porch, glasses of wine, or episodes ofGilmore Girlswill dissipate it. Today is the day I’m going to see Ed after our month of no talking.
The weather has been windy and gray. Robin stands with her arms crossed, in flip-flops, sundress, and oversized cardigan while I put my bag in the car. It’s adorable. She insisted on seeing me off.
“This summer has gone by so fast; I can’t believe it’s already mid-August.”
I smile. It has and it hasn’t. Some days have felt like a year with no end, and some have gone by in a blink of an eye. But I just say, “It has.”
We hug, her fuzzy sweater soft on my cheek. “Call me and let me know how it goes.”
“I will.”
The sun is just starting to shine through the cloudy day as I drive away from Fortune Falls, the white caps of the ocean bobbing in my rearview mirror. In the short amount of time I’ve been here, the trails, the wind-whipped sand, the ocean, Main Street… It’s all started to feel like home. Maybe it will be.
Turning on my new audiobook—I bought the latest AnnabelleMonaghan as a treat for the drive—I lose myself in the story as the miles pass. Before I know it, I’m pulling up to the hotel I booked in NE Portland, right off Flanders. After I find parking, I check my phone. Sitting right at the top of my email is an offer letter from the private school in Portland. My heart races, and I shove my phone into my bag, uncertain of how to reply or what to do.
Despite the name being the Gold Pony Hotel, the sign for it is bright red. When I booked the room, I chose this place because it was one of the more affordable. The lobby carpet is brown with yellow swirls covering it. Maybe they’re supposed to be gold. I check in and make my way to my room on the second floor. The room itself is clean but smells like this was once the smoking wing of the hotel. I toss my bag down, hang up my dress, and throw myself on the bed, the soft cushion of the comforter billowing around me as I do.
It’s about ten degrees hotter here than it was on the coast. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss the ocean breeze. I cross the room to the window, opening the thick red curtains. My room looks over the pool, aquamarine water sparkling in the sun. My mind flashes to my visit to LA. To him kissing me next to the pool, so soft and hungry.
My watch alerts me to a phone call, pulling me out of my thoughts. It’s Chad. My breath catches in my throat. He must have news.
I answer. “Hello.”
“Hattie. Are you sitting down?”
Blood rushes to my face. We haven’t spoken in over a year, and the first thing he does is tell me what to do. Fuck that. “What is it, Chad?”
“It’s the house.”
I continue to stand, staring out the window at the chlorinated water as Chad explains the sale fell through. The foundation is cracked, and it needs a new roof. There’s no money coming anytime soon.
My knees wobble, which is probably why he suggested I sit. He is still talking, but there’s a roar in my ears. Like the ocean.
He’s saying things like hiring contractors and re-listing. But it’s all useless words. The bookstore is perfect, and there’s no way I can buy it.
After we hang up, I go back and lie down on the bed.
The clock on the nightstand changes to five before I know it. If I don’t get ready now, I’ll be late to meet Ed. If he’s still meeting me. He never returned my call.
I want to take my time getting ready so I look my best, but I spent too long wallowing and don’t have the luxury of slow, methodical movements.
Once my makeup is done and my hair is up the way I planned, I put on my light-blue dress, slip on my silver sandals, and call a Lyft.
The ride to the museum where the awards are being held takes longer than I expect. Traffic is bad, and my hotel is farther away than I realized. My nerves crackle as I get out of the car and walk through the sculpture park to the museum’s main entrance. Women in long dresses and men in tuxes are milling about, some on their way in, some with drinks in hand, admiring the sculptures. I’m drawn in by one of a horse that appears to be made out of driftwood. Running my hand over it, I realize it’s metal. The patina is so realistic, the color just like the dried pieces of wood lying all over the beach at Fortune Falls.
“I’m afraid you can’t touch the art.”
I pull my hand away, my heart in my throat as I turn to apologize.
It’s Ed, his green eyes full of mischief, his head shaved again, just like that first time I met him. He’s smiling ear to ear and looking very dapper in a black tux, with a Breeders T-shirt instead of a typical collared shirt. I want to think of something clever to say, but my mind is blank, all the blood pumping wildly through my heart, none left for word play.
“Hey.”
