Page 37 of For Keeps. For Always.

I always imagined we’d come face-to-face again. It seemed destined. Life didn’t offer you the promise of a forever friendship, possiblymore, only to rip it away without a trace. Or so I’d hoped.

I had hoped to be prepared. For us to reconnect underplannedcircumstances. I didn’t expect it on the other side of the world. And definitely not tonight.

“Henley?”

She looks as startled as I feel, her eyes wide, her beautiful mouth slightly agape.

“Brooks?” she breathes.

“Och.” Her friend sighs. “Figures. See you inside.”

We barely notice her friend disappear as a tornado of shock and awe surrounds us. The entire world dissipates, leaving only me and my best friend standing on a jagged rock of expectation.

The street seems colder. The bitter air brushes across our faces, making the tip of Henley’s nose and the apples of her cheeks red.

I can see her breath puff out from her pink lips. Billows of air that mingle with the smoke from my cigarette, now forgotten in my hand.

“Hi,” I say.

She takes a moment to reply. Her eyes remain unblinking as they lock onto mine.

“Hi,” she finally echoes, the word cracking from the dryness in her throat.

Shoving her gloved hands in the pockets of her puffy jacket, she rocks back on her heels, jolting herself back to life.

“Glasgow, hey? What are the odds?”

She tilts her head to the side. “When did you arrive?”

“Last week,” I tell her. “With Mom and Dad. We spent Christmas here.”

“Oh. That’s nice.” I hate the slice of envy in her words. The simplicity of my Christmas a fairy tale to her.

“You?” I ask when she doesn’t volunteer the information.

“I arrived about a month ago.”

“Green grass.” I smile.

She laughs lightly, her reddened cheeks balling on her face, lifting like apples, scrunching her eyes in delight. “The greenest I’ve seen so far.”

“I take my shoes off every chance I get.”

“You do?” She steps closer, the smile on her pretty face giving way to fascination.

“I do.” I smile. “Even though I’m pretty certain I’m about to catch frostbite.”

That laugh again.

“Tending bar?” I ask her, needing her to keep talking. Afraid the moment she stops, she’ll walk away from me, and it’ll be years before I can see her again.IfI’m lucky enough to see her again. Maybe the universe isn’t that kind. Maybe it’s a one-shot deal. Grab it or lose it.

She points at the whiskey bar.

I stare at the small pub, antiquated and captivating in its old-world grace. Perfectly Henley.

“You stopped answering my calls.” I can’t stop the accusation in my tone, the pain of those months rearing their unwelcome heads.

“You stopped calling,” she combats.

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