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“I found this picture. Is this your husband?” I nervously asked.
“Yeah. That’s David. That picture was taken a month before he died.”
“David? That was your husband’s name?”
“Yeah,” she said as she looked at me weirdly. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
“Yeah. I’m fine. It’s just you never mentioned his name, and when I first saw this picture, he looked familiar.”
“Maybe the two of you crossed paths one time.” She smiled.
“Yeah. Maybe we did.”
I took the picture and went back to Paisley’s office. Before putting it back in the drawer, I stared at David. What the fuck, was all I kept thinking. This was him. This was the David that I met at the Sunset Bar. The same David who told me about the support group meeting. The same David who just shown up out of nowhere. Not only at the bar, but at the pier as well. The same man who told me to take care of her and love her. My head was spinning because I didn’t know what to think. My brain couldn’t process any of this. I heard Paisley screaming my name from the bedroom. I threw the picture in the drawer and ran to her.
“OH MY GOD!” she exclaimed as she held her phone in her hand.
“Are you okay? What happened?”
“Trina from Doyle Publishing just called me. She and a couple of other editors loved my book so much that they made me a six-figure deal to publish it!”
“Paisley, that’s wonderful. I’m so happy for you.”
She paced around the bedroom. “I can’t believe they loved it.”
“Of course, they loved it. I loved it. Everyone is going to love it.”
I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her head. “Merry Christmas, Paisley.”
As we walked out the door to head to my parents’ house, Paisley said she forgot something and went back inside. When I stepped off the porch, I immediately stopped when I looked across the street and saw David leaning up against the light post. He was standing there with his hands in his pockets, smiling at me. He gave me a small wave, and then I heard Paisley come out of the house. I turned and looked at her, and when I turned back to David, he was gone, just like that night at the bar.
“You ready?” she asked.
“Yeah. Let’s go,” I replied, staring across the street.
Chapter Forty-Two
NINE MONTHS LATER
Paisley
“I stopped living life the day my husband passed away. I gave up everything I loved and merely existed from day to day. I stopped going out, and I gave up all the hobbies I once enjoyed. When people ask me how I coped at such a young age, I’ll tell the truth: I didn’t. I hid in my house most days and let life pass me by. I held on to the one tiny piece of hope I had that it was all a bad dream and that, one day, I’d wake up and everything would be back to normal. I was drowning in my own misery and feeling like I was the only person in the world that this happened to. I’m here tonight to tell you that you will be all right. Your deceased loved ones don’t want you to stop living life after they’re gone. They want you to be at peace and continue to love life like you did when they were alive. Someone once told me to embrace the memories you had with each other. Remember them and let them heal you. We all know that life’s too short to drown ourselves in our own sorrow. Life can, does, and will go on for you. But you have to make the effort to live it right. You can read my story in my new novel, She Writes Love. I am a survivor, and so are you. Have a good night, everyone.”
The sound of clapping filled the room as I stepped off the stage. My book hit number one on the New York Times bestselling list, and this was my first book signing. My whole family, as well as Ben’s family, attended, with the exception of Charlotte, who had just given birth three days ago to my nephew, Thomas Bradley. Ben got up from his seat and took my hand. We walked out into the lobby, where a reception was being held for me, and a table was set up for me to sign my book. It was an amazing and surreal night. One that I would never forget.
Later that night, after I had signed countless copies of my book and mingled with everyone who attended, Ben and I took the elevator to the hotel suite the publisher had booked for us. When we walked through the door, a table was set up with a covered silver tray and a single red rose sitting in a vase.
“What’s this?”
“I have no idea,” Ben said. “Maybe Doyle had it sent up.”
“Yeah, maybe.” I walked over to the table and lifted the silver dome from the tray. Sitting on a black satin napkin was a beautiful white gold, princess-cut diamond ring. I placed my hand over my mouth as Ben walked over and took it between his fingers. He got down on one knee and took hold of my left hand.
“Paisley, from the first time I saw you, I was mesmerized by your beauty. Then, when I spoke to you, I was hooked by your words. We were both given a second chance at love, and I am grateful for that. I believe that we were destined to be together and love one another for the rest of our lives. Someone told me a while ago to take care of you and to love you with my heart and soul, and that’s what I’m doing as your boyfriend. But I want more, Paisley. I want to be more. I love you so much and can’t imagine not spending my life with you. I want to be your husband, and I want you to be my wife. Will you marry me?”
My bottom lip wouldn’t stop quivering, and the tears that sprang to my eyes began to fall as he held the diamond ring.
“Yes. Yes. Yes! I will marry you, Ben Preston.” He slipped the ring on my finger and then kissed it before standing up and spinning me around.
Love had found its way back into our lives once again. Either by chance or by fate, we were meant to share a love that would last a lifetime. Ben and I were married a year later in a small ceremony on the beach. Both of our immediate families were there to help us celebrate, including Leah, who had become Keaton’s top priority in life.
Ben had quit his job at the station and became a volunteer fireman so he would have more time to build furniture and run his small handmade furniture shop, which was doing extremely well. My Dear Paisley columns were doing better than ever, and I was hired by Cosmopolitan magazine to write a monthly love column they called “She Writes Love.”
Ben and I would hear the pitter-patter of little feet around our home in three months. Soon, our happy family of three (including