Page 10 of The Now in Forever

W hen we get back to the house, I hop into the shower.

By the time I get out, there is an email at the top of my inbox from Ed with his manuscript attached.

I pad downstairs and grab a cup of coffee and a banana.

Then I head back up, tuck myself in the window seat with my baby blue writing journal, open the Word document, and dive in.

Ed’s use of language is astounding, and this is just an early draft.

It makes me a little jealous. But he’s right—the pacing is off if he wants people to keep turning pages.

I add comments to the document, making sure to note things I like as well as things not quite working for me, and jot down some thoughts in my journal.

I’m not even sure how much time has passed when there is a knock on my door. “Come in.”

Robin walks in with a cup of coffee, a freshly washed face, and bright eyes. “You look hard at work for a Sunday.”

Closing my notebook, I shrug. “I guess.”

“We’re going to go to this glass-blowing place then stop for lunch on the way back at this cool bar on the top of a cliff called the Hideout. Do you want to come?”

I stand and stretch my muscles, feeling stiff from the run and then the complete inactivity that followed. “That sounds great.”

Robin claps. “Yay. Ed is coming too.” She sings the last word, and her meaning is clear. “You two went for a run together this morning, I hear.”

I nod but don’t say anything, just dig my sandals out of the closet.

“Both runners, both writers, both smoking-hot single people.” She waggles her eyebrows and has an absolutely devilish smile.

“Don’t.”

She raises both hands like a criminal surrendering. “Don’t what? I’m just saying a little romance wouldn’t be the worst thing that could happen this summer.”

Nathan and Robin are nearly engaged, clearly headed that way, but no one has popped the question yet.

Anh and Melissa are engaged. Melissa asked Anh in the most romantic Valentine’s Day proposal earlier this year, spelling it out in rose petals on the hardwood floor of their glamorous condo in LA, the kind that only two lawyers can afford.

And I am the lonely friend. The divorced friend.

The one they’re always trying to fix up with somebody—sometimes it feels like with anybody .

They don’t understand. It makes it harder to put yourself out there after being so thoroughly squashed. But I want a family someday. I want to check one thing off my list of life goals. I want to find love, like the one my grandparents shared.

But not with Ed.

I can work with him on our writing. I wouldn’t even mind running together again, but I will not let myself fall head over heels for him. Not this time.

“Please don’t try to fix me up. I just want to spend the summer finishing my book and looking for a new job. Okay?”

Robin’s smile falls. “I worry about you, honey. I know Chad broke your heart, but that was years ago.”

“It's only been three years. Either way, this isn’t about Chad.”

“Then why haven’t you had a boyfriend since then?”

“I haven’t met the right guy.”

Robin puts a hand on my arm. “Maybe Ed’s it? He could be the one. ”

I turn toward the window so she can’t see the flush in my cheeks. “He’s not. Trust me, he’s not.”

The faint sound of a door closing makes my heart leap into my throat.

Even if it was Ed, what do I care if he heard me? It’s better he knows up front; there will be no hookups involved in our writer’s workshop.

I grab my bag. “I’m ready to go when you are.”

Nathan offers to drive since he’s the only one who’s been to the Hideout before.

Robin takes shotgun, naturally, which leaves me in the back with Ed.

The SUV is large. There’s no real danger of my leg accidentally brushing his, but we are close enough that I can smell him—clove and orange, spicy and sweet, just like he smelled a decade ago.

The drive up the coast is as windy as it is stunning. The sky clouded over, making the water a deep gray blue. Large rocks jut out as wave after wave of foamy white water crash against them, like a fly buzzing in the ear of a Clydesdale.

Birds dive dangerously low to the cars as we drive over an iron bridge into Washington State. We pass a road sign for Cape Disappointment.

“Wow.” I laugh. “They really didn’t pull any punches when they named this place.”

Nathan chuckles. “Some people say they named Fortune Falls as a direct response.”

Ed sits forward in his seat, his eyes lit up. “Like look how much luck we have down here in Oregon, while you’re all up there in Washington, disappointed and shit.”

We all laugh.

“Exactly,” Nathan says.

“Why were they disappointed?” I ask, looking out at the water again. “No one could possibly be unhappy with a view like this, could they?”

“He thought it was just this bay, and he was looking for the mouth of the Columbia. He was wrong, though; he just didn’t see it.”

“He fucked up, and now the cape must forever suffer his disappointment. Terrible,” Ed says as he furiously makes notes on his phone.

We pull into a gravel lot of a small building that looks more like a mechanic shop than a tourist destination. It has a wide garage door, rolled open. Ornate, colorful glass balls, some large, some tiny, surround the building; a narrow path into a garden is lined with them.

We get out of the car and enter the shop.

A wave of heat rushes to my face. Even with the open door, it is sweltering in here.

There is an older couple browsing the shelves of glass ornaments, the woman smiling from ear to ear.

A red-haired man dressed in blue jeans and a heavy-looking khaki apron approaches us, a face mask pushed up on his forehead.

“Welcome in. Feel free to look around. Any green ball is on sale today, fifty percent off.”

Robin smiles. “We’d like to learn how to blow glass.”

“Grand. All of you, or…”

Robin is nodding while Ed is shaking his head, still typing on his phone.

Nathan grasps his shoulder. “Come on. Don’t be a spoilsport. Yes, all of us.”

“Great. Look around, and I’ll let you know when I’m ready for you. You’ll all have to decide who goes first. It’s a one-at-a-time thing.”

We decide I’ll go first, and Robin will go next, then Nathan, and Ed is going to go for a walk.

“Alrighty—who’s up?”

I step forward while Nathan and Robin look around hand in hand.

Going through all the motions, I learn step by step how to mold the molten glass.

I haven’t made anything with my hands like this since the last time I spent any real time with Dad.

I’m embarrassed about the tears forming in the corner of my eyes.

Muttering my thanks, I rush into the fresh air without a word.

The garden is like something out of a fairy tale.

There’s a wooden bridge with a small creek babbling under it.

On the other side, there are pockets of wild roses, lavender, and daisies lined by colorful glass balls.

I let the tears fall. I’m alone, so what does it matter?

But then I hear a deep voice that sends shivers to my toes.

“Oh, come on. It couldn’t have been that bad.” Ed smiles from a wooden bench, holding his phone in both hands.

I swipe at my tears while he moves over on the bench.

“What happened? Do I need to fight somebody?”

Taking a seat, I run my palm on the arm rest, the painted wood smooth under my palm. “No, nothing like that. I used to make pottery with my dad. Growing up, he was always throwing clay on the wheel in the workshop behind our house. He would’ve loved this.”

Ed dips his head in understanding. “Oh, I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“No,” I say quickly. “He’s not dead.”

Ed’s brow furrows in the most adorable wrinkle. He has a very serious face most of the time—strong jaw, prominent cheekbones, piercing eyes—but when he’s confused, he looks more like a sweet wrinkly puppy.

“Text him, then. Dad, try glass blowing …yadda yadda.”

“We don’t text much.”

“Why not?”

I shrug. “When I graduated from high school, my parents got divorced. They sold the house, and my dad moved across the state. He has a new house, a new wife, new kids. When I visit, I feel out of place. Over the years, we slowly lost touch. Like a thread on a sweater that was pulled one day, until suddenly you wake up cold. You know? ”

He smiles. “That’s a very writer brain analogy. It’s good though. You should write it down.”

My cheeks warm at the compliment. “Are you close with your parents?”

He purses his lips. “I was close with my mom when I was a kid, I thought. But I’ve never met my dad. He left when I was a baby.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Had he told me that on the perfect day and I forgot? I know I told him about my parents getting a divorce. I was positive I remembered every second of that day, but now I’m not so sure. Not that it matters. Ed’s clearly forgotten the whole thing.

“It’s fine. I was a handful.” He chuckles.

“Still are, I’m sure.”

“Heyyyy.”

We both laugh, but it fades quickly. I put a hand on his arm; his skin is warm from sitting in the sun. “Every baby is a handful.”

He nods absently, but I can tell he’s not really hearing me. I try changing the subject so he doesn’t lose interest in the conversation all together. “What are you doing on your phone?” I raise my eyebrows. “Candy Crush?”

“Candy Crush? What year is it? No.”

I laugh.

“I got an idea from Cape Disappointment. What if one mistake marred not just the life of the person who made it for eternity but everyone they ever came in contact with? And what if, in this case, it was a murder?”

“Hmm, sounds interesting. What about the time travel manuscript?”

“Yeah, so instead of going into the future. These two people have to go back in time to solve the murder. If they can find out who did it, they can fix the terrible future. They fall in love along the way. But if they solve the murder and stop it, the pair will also never meet.”

Goose bumps rise on my arms. “Ooh, that’s good.”

His smile is so wide, I expect a cartoon twinkle to appear.

Robin pops up on the path. “You two ready to roll?”

We get back in the car and drive up, up, and up a windy patch of road that eventually gives way to gravel. We make it to the top just as car sickness is about to sink its teeth into me. Usually I’m fine in the car. It’s just all the twists and turns. I hop out, gulping the fresh air.

The building looks like something Frank Lloyd Wright would be proud of, all sharp angles. The deck juts out over the cliff. There’s no sign, nothing that denotes this is a restaurant instead of a private home, except the full parking lot and the sound of voices and cutlery coming from the deck.

“Wow.”

Robin smiles and links arms with me. Nathan and Ed are already at the door speaking to the hostess.

We follow them through the dining room to a high-top table on the deck.

The view is breathtaking. It looks like we’re floating right above the ocean; the waves crash on the rocks below.

We order drinks, wine for Robin and me, a beer for Ed, and a Coke for Nathan, who’s offered to drive back too.

“Well, glass blowing was a lot of fun, but did you notice we were the only people in there under sixty-five?” Nathan asks, grabbing Robin’s hand.

She laughs. “Stick with me, babe. I’m nothing if not adventurous.”

I smile. “What’s next? Antiquing? Pottery? Knitting club?”

“Those all sound great to me. It can’t all be your wild, perfect day.”

My stomach sinks to my toes along with all the blood in my body, and I nearly drop my wineglass.

Ed puts his phone down, tuning into the conversation.“Perfect day? When was this?”

Nathan raises an eyebrow like an obnoxious older brother.

My throat turns as dry as sand. I take a sip of wine while everyone stares at me waiting for my answer. “I don’t really remember when it was. It was a long time ago.”

Robin is looking to the clouds, searching for the answer. “It must have been…ten years ago. Wow, has it been that long? It was the summer you worked at?—”

I cut her off. Ed and I are getting along. It’s fine that he doesn’t remember that day. He certainly doesn’t need to now.

“It was so long ago. We don’t have to talk about it. ”

Robin nods, getting the message.

A deep groove appears between Ed’s brows. “I had a day like that once. It was a long time ago.”

My heart stops, but I don’t say anything, waiting if he’ll say more. He has to be talking about us.

He says, “What made yours perfect?”

“It wasn’t about what we did.” My heart rate spikes at the use of the word we . I quickly clarify. “I mean the guy I was with and me. None of it was particularly special or even things I would’ve chosen for myself. It was—I don’t know how to describe it. It was the vibe, I guess.”

Ed is nodding like he understands what I’m saying, even though I just said a bunch of incoherent gibberish. The vibe? I’m a writer, and that’s the best I can come up with?

Nathan asks, “Who was the guy?”

Robin shakes her head. “Don’t even try it.”

“What? Is it girl secrets?”

“She won’t even tell Anh and me,” Robin says. “And we’ve tried all our tricks. Letting her come to us. Nope. Margaritas. Nope. She’s taking it to her grave.”

My cheeks are burning. “Come on. We have all summer to swap secrets.”

Can’t we just move on?

Nathan frowns. “Well, until Ed goes to LA. When are you leaving again?”

“In a couple weeks.”

He’s leaving. Again. Fuck. Why didn’t he mention this when we talked about our plans for the summer? The book party. Trading manuscripts.

“But I won’t be gone long. Plenty of time for secret swapping.” Ed raises his glass. “To secrets.”