Page 65 of Love By the Book
A week ago, I thought I'd lost her completely. I was resigned to returning to my carefully ordered life, trying to forget the way she'd turned everything upside down in the best possible way. Then Alex reminded me that promises are about the heart of them—not just the words. And suddenly, I saw it clearly. Rhianna hadn’t been asking me to leave; she’d been afraid no one would love her enough to stay.
So I did.
I ran through town like a man possessed. And when I’d found her, hair wild from the wind, eyes red from crying—I knew. I knew I would never stop choosing her. When she said she wanted to try with me, my heart soared. I’ve been floating ever since.
I’d already closed the lease on my apartment in Magnolia Cove. I had to chase down my boxes—they were thankfully still being held on the ferry in Charleston—and I didn’t have a resident’s permit anymore. And with Rhianna leaving on her fellowship in a matter of weeks, it made logical sense to return home for a while to the apartment I already own.
So I did the sensible thing. I went back to Misty Pines.
But nothing feels like home anymore. These rooms feel emptier than they ever did before, because now I know what it’s like to have her in a space. Her laughter echoing off the walls. Her wild book theories mid-sentence. The faint scent of lemon and sea breeze clinging to my clothes. It’s already faded. I frown at the thought.
I miss her all the time.
It’s just six months, though. I’ll stick with my plan. Teach my virtual classes. I’ll fall asleep to her voice describing the cities she’s exploring. I'll live in this in-between space where we’re apart but still tethered. And when she’s ready—when she’s home again—we’ll talk about what forever looks like.
"You're doing it again," Piper interrupts my thoughts. "That thing where you get lost in your head thinking about her."
She's right, of course. But how can I not? Rhianna Wilder crashed into my life like a shooting star, and now everything that once felt sufficient feels like a pale substitute for the life I could have—the life I want—with her.
I’m saved from having to explain any of this to Piper by her typical rapid-fire subject changes. She hops off the counter and starts wandering my apartment, poking at my precisely arranged belongings like she's conducting an investigation.
“Besides, what are you adjusting to? Being back in your perfectly organized apartment that you clearly don't want to be in anymore?"
I run a hand through my hair, aware that every unpacked box is only proof to her point. "It's just six months."
"And you'll spend all six of them counting the minutes until you can go back to her." She sets down her wine glass with more force than necessary. "Why did you even come back?"
"I have responsibilities, Pipes. My teaching?—"
"Aren’t you still teaching virtually this year?"
"Yes, but..." I trail off.
"But what?" Piper prompts.
"But I have a job, a life here."
Piper rolls her eyes so hard I'm worried she might strain something. "A job you can currently do from anywhere, and a life you're clearly not invested in anymore. When's the last time you checked your work email?”
"Last Tuesday," I answer automatically, then wince at her triumphant expression.
"Exactly! The old Eli would never let an email go unanswered for over twenty-four hours. You're still trying to live by your old rules even though they don't fit anymore."
Her words hit me with unexpected force. I think about my inbox, filled with unanswered messages from colleagues, questions about next semester's syllabus, requests for peer reviews. A month ago, letting them sit would have felt like a personal failure. Now they seem... insignificant.
Because every morning, I wake up to a message from Rhianna. Sometimes it's a picture of a sunrise over Magnolia Cove's harbor, sometimes it's a terrible pun about books that makes me laugh out loud in my empty apartment. Yesterday, she sent me a link to a song along with the text:Still better than Bread.I’d laughed out loud in the grocery store. People looked over at me and I didn’t care.
This lack of focus would have horrified the old Eli. He would have seen it as a disruption to carefully laid plans, a deviation from the proper path.
But I remember something Rhianna said to me once, curled up in my sweater at my apartment.Sometimes the best stories are the ones that don't follow an outline.She'd been talking about books, but maybe she was talking about life too. About how the most meaningful chapters aren't the ones we carefully plot out, but the ones that surprise us.
I look around my apartment—at the neat stacks of papers,the carefully arranged books, the life I built with such precision—and realize it doesn’t fit anymore. I’ve gone back to my old routines, but they don’t match the shape of my heart now. With a gasp, I realize what I need to do. "Remember when I told you about my three bold moves plan?"
Piper grins. “You mean your absolutely adorable attempt to be spontaneous that involved making a detailed list of how to be spontaneous? Yeah, that was peak you.”
"Moving to Magnolia Cove was the first one," I say, ignoring her teasing. "Signing up for Rhianna's matchmaking service was the second."
"What about skydiving?"
