Page 71 of The Words We Lost

Joel furrowed his brow. “And he just happens to have three slots available tonight?”

Heat bloomed in Cece’s cheeks. “I may have put a deposit down for him to hold our spots a while back.”

Joel swiped a hand over his face, and she could practically hear the lecture building in his head. Too bad for him, she wasnotin the mood for mansplaining tonight.

“Fine. You know what, Joel? You’re off the hook. It’s not like the three of us took a blood oath or anything. But just for the record, I know youthink I’m some silly little head-in-the-clouds dreamer, but I put a lot of thought into this one. I wanted us to do something memorable at the end of our week together, and I wanted to celebrate something I worked really hard on with the people ... with the people...” Her words broke off before she could finish. Because outside of her mother, these two wereherpeople. Ingrid and Joel. And while she wanted their relationship to advance to marriage and eventually to children, and while she rooted for each of their professions to mature into structured positions with 401(k)s and health benefits and paid vacations ... she didn’t want to be the one left behind.

Changewouldcome for their little trio. It was inevitable. But she feared she’d be on the wrong side of it when it did.

The tears fell too fast for her to wipe away.

Ingrid’s arms went around her. “I’m in for getting tattooed with you tonight. Did you already give Rupert our sketch-up drawings?” Cece sniffed and nodded. “Great. Then I’m all set. I love that our compass designs are unique to each of us, yet still share the same heart.” She pursed her lips. “I just need a minute to figure out the placement of where to put mine.”

Joel’s eyes went wide. “You only need a minute to decide that?”

Ingrid rolled her eyes at him with a smile. “The design is the most important thing to me, and I’ve known that was right since the night we first sketched them all out after my dad left for rehab.” She tipped her head to rest on Cece’s. “I never understood why my dad tattooed the coordinates to Stavanger, Norway, on his arm when he hadn’t lived there for so many years, but I get it now.” Ingrid’s voice flared with passion. “I never want to forget where my home is or the people who helped me find it.”

Joel tugged at the back of his neck again and looked up at the sky for a long moment. Cece was certain he was about to tell them they were being overly sentimental and ridiculous about the whole thing. But instead, he blew out a weighted exhale and then stared her in the eyes.

“I don’t think you’re a silly little head-in-the-sky dreamer, Cece. I actually think...” He cleared his throat. “That you’re a pretty incredible person.” He looked between them. “And I’d be honored to share such an important evening with the two most important women in my life.”

Cece sniffed and wiped her eyes. “I’m so going to tell your mom you said that.”

“Then I’ll tellyourmom what you really did with her old stack of art magazines she was saving.” He smiled ruefully and then moved to open the parlor door. “Come on, apparently our appointments have already been made. Let’s just hope this Rupert guy isn’t charging us by the hour.”

He held open the door and Ingrid took the lead. She slowed to whisper something in Joel’s ear before moving to sign them in at the clipboard on the front desk.

But before Cece could pass by him, Joel clamped a hand onto her shoulder. “Hey, wait a sec.” Usually, she was annoyed when he tried to play the big brother, but strangely, she couldn’t find a single thing that annoyed her about him in this moment. “None of us are ever going to forget where our home is. You got that? The three of us are in this together. Now, later, always. Nothing is going to change that. I promise.”

Not trusting her voice to speak, she simply nodded at him, taking care to carve his promise in a place no tattoo artist could ever reach.

23

Iam so focused on the reading, on the inexplicable lack of fatigue between my eye and my mind, that I’m unsure when Joel stops chopping the cabbage. All I know for sure is that we’re both acutely aware of each other as I place the pages of this chapter back onto the countertop. Despite a hundred thoughts vying for my attention after Cece’s retelling of the treasure hunt, there is only one that rises to the surface and warms the truth written across my heart.

Before I can speak it, Joel speaks first. “I came to find you once.”

His words hover above me, unable to land without proper context. “What? When?”

After a labored sigh, he flattens his hands onto the quartz, shrinking the width of the island between us as his shoulders bear the weight of his reply. “I was tired of waiting, tired of hoping you’d find your way back on your own. Cece told me about a big publishing banquet at The Palace Hotel in San Francisco and that you’d be in attendance rooting for Barry and his Editor of the Year nomination, so I bought a ticket and a new suit and two dozen roses on my way to the venue.”

My mind flashes back to the night of the publishing banquet three years ago. The year the Nocturnal Heart series exploded across international borders despite the last two books not having yet been released. It was held the same month the movie producers optionedher film rights after an extended bidding war. And during the same week that Barry promoted me to Senior Acquisitions Editor and officially added Cecelia Campbell’s name to the top of my editorial list.

My boss had called me into his office two days before the award ceremony, gesturing for me to take a seat. “In the beginning, it was a conflict of interest to have Cece on your editorial list during her initial contract negotiations, and honestly, you were still too green, which is why it was the right decision for me to be the one to oversee her projects. But I’ve never forgotten that you were the one who discovered her, Ingrid. It’s always been your voice she hears when she edits her scenes, not mine.”He’d leaned forward in his desk chair, his grin stretched ear to ear.“And I’m convinced the extraordinary success of Cece’s series has as much to do with your keen eye and instinct as it does her rare talent.”I’d been taken aback by his words, but never could I have imagined what was to come when he slid an official-looking document across his desk, my name typed on the line where his should be. “This Editor of the Year nomination belongs to you, kid. You’re one of the best I’ve seen come through this industry, and it’s past time you get the recognition you deserve.”He’d winked at me.“Now, go buy yourself something fancy for the gala and don’t forget to write an acceptance speech. I’ll be rooting for you.”

I blink Joel back into focus again, still trying to wrap my mind around what he’s telling me. “You were there that night? At the awards banquet?”

His nod is subtle, but his gaze is fire. “You wore a long red dress that swept the floor when you walked. The neckline was high but your shoulders were bare. And when your name was called from that podium and the entire room erupted in applause as you made your way to the front . .. it was the first time it hurt more to see you than it did to miss you, because I knew right then you weren’t coming home with me.”

“So you ... you just left?”

“How could I not? You’d ghosted me for nearly three years—ignoring my calls and banning Cece from giving you any of my messages. The only reason I knew anything about you was because of her.” He stretches his neck, readjusts his hands on the counter. “I realized that night I had no business trying to compete with the life you’d made, especially given the circumstances I’d be asking you to return to.”

I don’t need to close my eyes to recall the life I’d made for myself in San Francisco after saying yes to an internship that turned into a job that soon turned into my only reason to exist. My memory pulses with the never-ending traffic and the overcrowded sidewalks, the inescapable stress and fatigue of my daily workload. The constant noise that keeps me company late into the night so I never have to face the quiet I fear most.

The woman who lives there, in that tiny, overpriced apartment, may have grown accustomed to living on her own, but she’s far from masteringbeing alone. And the blurred lines between the two have become more and more distinct ever since the day she arrived back in Port Townsend.

I hardly recognized the Ingrid Cece described in her last chapter. The woman whose walls had slowly been chipped away by the persistent knock of two friends who simply wouldn’t allow her to hide—not at sea and not in books. That woman had found her home only after she’d been found by love.

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