Page 147 of In Case You Didn't Know
“No, I didn’t. And you owe me big time. When I get back to Liberty I’ll think of a way you can repay me.” There’s warmth in her voice that makes my heart feel like it might heal. “And trust me, I get it. Things get messy fast. But next time, just tell me. I have ice cream and bad decision wine, and I know how to use them.”
A watery laugh escapes my lips. “It’s a deal.”
But I’m still cringing on the inside.
I blamed Asher for keeping me in the dark, but I did the exact same thing to the person who’s been my anchor since I was twelve years old.
“Will you talk to him? When you’re ready?” she asks me.
My heart thuds against my ribcage. “I miss him,” I whisper. It’s like every corner of this place echoes with him. I can’t sleep in bed without imagining him beside me. Smiling that soft smile.
“You love him,” she says, like she can read my mind. Maybe after all these years she can.
Tears burn in my eyes. “I do.”
There’s a quiet moment between us. Then she clears her throat.
“He loves you too, Francie. Enough to break himself wide open. But maybe it’s time he let you help put him back together.”
My heart twists. The thought of him hurting makes me want to throw something. “How do you always know what to say?”
“It’s a gift. Now go finish that book, and when you’re done, finish your own story.”
I nod even though she can’t see me. “I will,” I promise.
We hang up and I set my phone down beside the laptop. A breeze flutters through the open window, lifting the edge of a sticky note Asher left me weeks ago.
You’ve got this.
It’s in his messy all-caps scrawl.
I smile. And then I hear it. The crunch of tires on gravel.
And when I look out of the window, there he is. Asher Fitzgerald, driving up the makeshift road in a black SUV.
And for the first time in days my heart doesn’t ache. It beats.
Maybe,just maybe, our story isn’t finished yet.
thirty-nine
FRANCIE
The SUV comes around to the front of the lighthouse and the engine cuts off. A moment later, there’s a knock at the front door.
It isn’t loud. Not urgent. Just a soft, rhythmic tap, like he knows I need time.
I stand up from the desk, my muscles knotted from sitting here for too long, and pad to the front door.
But when I pull it open there’s nobody there. Just a cup of coffee with cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon – the way I like it – and a bag full of muffins with a note written across the brown paper.
Finish your book. Then come and find me. I’ll be waiting. Always. A x
I pick them up with trembling fingers. And as I glance up I see the SUV is parked at the end of the graveled lane. And eventhough I can’t see him through the reflection of the sun on the windshield I know he’s there. Waiting like he said he would.
I close the door with a soft click and pad back across the floor to my desk. As I put the coffee and the muffins down, my laptop screen glows with the half-finished sentence I’ve been working on all morning.
But now there’s a tremble in my hands that has nothing to do with writer’s block.
