Page 47 of Remain

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

“I’ll loop Erik in,” she continues. “He’ll want to hear it from you.”

“I figured.”

“Good. That man, he listens to you.”

When the call ends, I sit back in my chair, heart thudding with anticipation. The kind you get when you know something seismic is about to shift in your life.

My phone buzzes almost immediately.

You’re not even gone for two days and Mrs. Kincaid says you have ideas.

I smile.

I might have a few.

A second later, my phone rings.

I answer without thinking.

“Hey you,” I breathe into the phone, his presence alone causing me to shift in my seat.

“Hey you,” he replies. His voice warm even through a screen. “You okay? Have you slept? Have you eaten?”

“I am,” I say honestly. “I’m exhausted but, I am good.”

“Good. So, dreamer, tell me what you’re thinking.”

I talk. He listens.

I tell him about the notebook. About Diane’s list, about Diane’s rules. About wanting to keep the heart intact while giving the work room to breathe. When I finish, there’s a quiet stretch on the line.

Then Erik exhales.“That sounds like her biggest dream come true. It sounds a lot like her. And you.”

Relief blooms in my chest.

“I was worried it would feel like I was changing it too much,” I admit.

“Never. It feels like you’re protecting it.”

“I can come back,” I say carefully. “Not to stay. But to set things up in person. If that helps.”

There’s a smile in his voice when he answers. I can hear it. “I think Pineview could handle that. I know I could.”

We don’t say anything else for a moment because this calm certainty, this shared purpose, it feels like something worth letting settle.

When we hang up, I turn back to my notebook and write one more line at the bottom of the page.

– Keep it human. Always remember Diane’s rules.

I underline it once.

Outside, the city roars back into itself rich with horns, voices, and movement but inside my apartment, something feels aligned. I feel like I’ve finally found the thread that ties who I was to who I am now.

I open my calendar and block off time in two weeks.

For the first time in a long time, the future doesn’t feel like a fork in the road. It feels like a bridge.