Page 102 of The Words We Lost

Barry props his elbows on the table, and I can sense what the coming weeks and months ahead will look like. As hard as this was for me, this nightmare will be ongoing for him.

“We can make things right here again, Barry,” I say with an assurance I feel in my gut. “You’ve shown us what good leadership looks like; SaBrina hasn’t undone everything you’ve taught us.”

He tips his head to me. “I hope that’s true. I also hope you’ll allow me to recommend you to the board as my first choice for the editorial director of this branch. The position should be opening up in the very near future.” He flashes me a knowing grin. “It will take some time to right this ship and bring back the sense of community and morale we’ve always been known for, but I’m certain that with some time and training, you’ll be an excellent addition to our management team here at Fog Harbor Books.”

It takes a moment for me to grasp what he’s actually proposing. Only moments ago, I was waiting on the final verdict of the evidence we’d submitted to the board, and now here I am being offered the most coveted position in our division.

“I—I—” I clamp my mouth shut and then retry. “Wow, that’s not at all what I was expecting.” Dazed, I look from Barry to Joel, whose expression is unreadable. “I think I’m a bit shell-shocked.”

“Understandable.” Barry gives me a knowing smile. “Tell you what, I need to make an appearance down in HR. I have a feelingit’s going to be a long night. Why don’t you two keep the room. I’m sure there’s plenty you need to discuss before we tackle the next steps regarding Cece’s manuscript.”

I nod absently as he stands to exit. But before he opens the door, he reaches out to pat my shoulder. “I’m proud of you, kid. Couldn’t be more so, in fact.”

And with that, he’s gone, pulling a ripcord I hadn’t anticipated.

“Is that what you want?” Joel’s question is piercingly soft. “To be the editorial director for Fog Harbor Books?”

I rotate in my chair until our faces are mere inches apart. My heart beats wildly in my chest as I think through the ramifications of saying yes to a position that would ultimately keep me away from the man sitting directly in front of me for the foreseeable future. Long-distance relationships can’t possibly last that long. “I don’t want to go backward.”

He strokes a thumb to my cheek. “Seems like this would be a pretty big jump forward to me.”

“Not without you, it wouldn’t.”

He studies me in a way that feels like my rib cage might burst wide open. “It’s not an either-or question I’m asking, Indy. It’s anandquestion. I told you, I’m not willing to tell you good-bye again. So if this is the life you want, then I’ll move here, to San Francisco.”

My breath thins as I try to imagine Joel in any other place, in any other career than the one he’s been destined for since boyhood. I could never in a million years ask him to part with a future connected to his family legacy. “You belong at that hotel, Joel. Your father—”

“I belongwith you.” His gaze travels a path from my eyes to my lips. “And if that’s here or up north or on the other side of the planet, then that’s where I want to be, too. I’m not letting go of you a second time. That’s not how our story is meant to end.”

And I know with a certainty I’ve rarely experienced that he’s right. It’s what Cece was trying to show us, the journey she was committed to taking us on even if she couldn’t be here for it. Herwords had led us through the formative years of our friendship and then into the foundational years of what became a love story we’d all but given up on. But Joel and I are no longer an interrupted happily ever after. Cece gave us the choice to pick up the pen and continue writing, one day at a time.

I press my forehead to his. “Please don’t move here.”

He pulls back to meet my gaze, and I don’t even try to mask my joy. “Because I’m moving back to Port Townsend as soon as I finish the edits onThe Fate of Kings.And it would be all kinds of tragic if you weren’t there when I arrived.”

He almost smiles at this, but refrains. “You need to think about what you’d be giving up to live in a small, slow town again.”

“I happen to love that small, slow town.”

“There’s never going to be a huge publishing industry anywhere in the Olympic Peninsula. The closest would be Seattle, and that’s still a hefty commute for—”

“We could change that, you know,” I say with a shrug.

He quirks an eyebrow. “Change, as in ... as in start a publishing house?”

I shake my head, laugh. “No, I have no interest in competing with Fog Harbor. I would like them as a reputable partner, though.” I purse my lips for a moment and try to catch hold of my runaway thoughts. “What if I added on to my editorial freelance plan? What if it was more encompassing than that, and I could help equip an aspiring author during their pre-publishing journey? Identify their strengths while working to grow them in their areas of challenge. That’s always been my favorite part of working in this industry—Cece’s inspired that in me.” I bite my bottom lip as the beginnings of a new dream start to take root. “There’s still lots to think through, obviously, but at some point, I might need to call an official trustee meeting to discuss a few details pertaining to a future business matter. Do you think he’d be willing to schedule a meeting with me?”

“I think his schedule will always be open for you.”

I lean in close and softly brush my lips against his. “Then for now, pencil me in for the day after the official launch ofThe Fate of Kings.”

As he takes me in his arms, I can’t help but hold on tight to this gift I’ve been given a second time around, one that came through devastation and loss, but also through sacrifice and love. I once believed the best way to honor Cece’s memory was through her fictional works. But just as a life doesn’t end after a final breath, neither does a story end with the turning of a final page.

Epilogue

ONEYEARLATER

People say the first year after loss is the hardest. They say that once you’re through all those awfulbig firsts—first birthday, first Christmas, first death anniversary—that subsequent years will hit easier. But in my experience,easieris far too simplistic a word for describing the seasons that come with loss. Grief is ever-changing, just like the people who are left to navigate their way through it, one moment, one step, and one day at a time.

---