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Gracie drummed her pencil against the edge of her desk. She’d made a mistake. Two mistakes. Well, more like a thousand mistakes if she wanted to get technical, but right now all she cared about were the two biggies she’d made in the past forty-eight hours. Especially mistake number two. The first mistake she could’ve dealt with, but mistake number two...

Oh boy. That mistake was a problem. A big problem. Because now it made the first mistake... well, a really bad mistake.

Her phone rang and Gracie answered before the second ring. “I’ve made a mistake.”

“No, you didn’t. I loooove it,” her agent belted out in a singsong voice.

“I shouldn’t have sent it.”

“Yes, you should have. I loooove it.”

“Will you stop saying that? We can’t use those chapters. Any of them. Don’t show them to anybody. Especially the editors.”

“I already did. And guess what?”

“Don’t say it.”

“They loooove it.”

She said it. Gracie tossed the pencil on her desk and clutched her forehead. “This is terrible.”

Her agent laughed. “Sure. Awful. Worst thing ever. You might still have a writing career in a publishing world that’s changing every minute. Prepare the funeral march. Dress in mourning. Do whatever you want. But me? I’m celebrating. Gracie, this is great stuff. I know it’s a memoir, but I’m telling you, it has the same feel as your earlier writing. The emotion. The humor. The zing. People are going to gobble this up faster than chips and salsa on half-price margarita night.”

“I promised Noah I wouldn’t write about his childhood.”

“Well, un-promise him. I don’t give a fig about sports and even I teared up over the Little League game. What is it about baseball and dads? And don’t even get me started on the parts about you two. The cheek kiss at the movies. Your little sandwich date on the tennis courts. So funny. So sweet. So perfect. I love how you’re writing the memoir in both of your own voices. This is exactly what your publisher was looking for. Relatable down-to-earth heroes. And we haven’t even gotten to the big game yet. Keep sending in more chapters once you’ve got them.”

“Believe me, I’m working as fast as I can.”

“I can tell. You’re on a roll. Keep rolling, baby. No writer’s block this time. Didn’t I tell you this project would be good for you?”

She did. And it was. Gracie couldn’t remember the last time words had flowed so easily onto the page. Not that she could take all the credit. All she was doing was writing down Noah’s story the way he was telling it—and perhaps weaving in a few stories of her own based on the way she remembered it. When she could.

Until now she never realized how much of Noah’s story she hadn’t known.

When he showed up at her high school, they were a couple of teenagers with an undeniable spark of chemistry between them. Too busy flirting and making up kisses, Gracie hadn’t spent much time poking into his childhood. Whenever she did ask questions, he’d find a way to answer without really giving an answer. But before Gracie knew it, she was so head over heels he could’ve robbed a bank in his past and she wouldn’t have cared.

All she’d cared about was their future, which they rushed into with the speed of a hundred-mile-per-hour fastball.

“Look, I’m not saying this hasn’t been good for me.” Gracie could admit there was something surprisingly therapeutic about working on this memoir with Noah. They’d shared more laughs the past two days than they had the entire last two years of their marriage.

But why shouldn’t they laugh? They were rehashing the good days. Early love. First kisses. New beginnings. Seasons brimming with hope.

Gracie knew all too well what awaited them in further chapters. Disappointment. Uncertainty. Separation. Loneliness. Seasons of heartache after heartache after heartache.

Which is exactly why the whole thing had been a mistake.

“I can’t do this, Simone. I’m sorry. I never should’ve sent you those chapters. I never should’ve agreed to write this story.”

“But the story is beautiful, Gracie. I don’t understand.”

Neither did Gracie. Not after she’d worked so hard to build a wall around her heart. Not after she’d promised herself that she’d never go back to being the woman she’d been five years ago. The woman who couldn’t stop hoping, obsessing, pining, begging God to make her a mom only to get crushed month after month, year after year, when God wouldn’t answer her prayer.

The day Noah suggested it was time to move on was the day Gracie decided that was the only answer she was going to get.

So she’d moved on. Without Noah. Without God. Without the hope that was slowly killing her.

“Gracie? You still there? What’s the problem with finishing this story?”

“The problem is...” Gracie shook her head. How had this happened? “I think I’m still in love with my husband.”

“Ex-husband.”

“That’s what I said.”

“No, it’s not.” Simone’s voice softened into a gentle tone Gracie had never heard from her agent before. “You know the difference between a romance and a love story, right? A love story doesn’t guarantee a happily-ever-after ending. Well, right now, Gracie, you’re writing the greatest love story you’ve ever told, and no, a happy ending isn’t guaranteed. But don’t you at least want to see how it plays out, even if there’s only the slightest hope for one?”

Gracie shook her head and sighed. “Fine, Simone. I’ll finish the memoir.”

But nobody, not even Simone, could convince her to start hoping for a happily-ever-after. Some things weren’t worth the risk. Not this late in the game.

And one of those things was her heart.