Page 29 of The Now in Forever

I wake up in Ed’s arms, pearly gray light drifting in through the open window along with a sea breeze. My eyes are crusty, and my head is foggy. I shouldn’t have drunk so much last night. Those lemonades were sweet and tasty but lethal. I get out of bed, but Ed grabs me back.

“It’s too early.”

He’s right. But my internal alarm clock will not be silenced. “I know. You can sleep. I need a run to clear my head.”

“You really don’t mind if I sleep more? I’m exhausted.” He gives me a meaningful look through half-opened eyes. “For some reason.”

I smile, remembering us falling into bed together, making fireworks of our own after watching the ones on the beach.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to, sir.” After throwing on my running clothes, I give him a kiss on the head. “It’s totally fine. I’ll bring you coffee.”

“You’re a goddess.”

The beach and the trail are both quiet this morning.

It seems everyone can sleep in but me. It’s good to feel the sweat prickle the back of my neck and the blood pump through my heart.

I run up through the dirt trails, thinking about all the times Ed and I have run these trails together in our short time here.

Sparklers ignite in my heart when I think about all the things we have in common—writing, running, and other unmentionable preferences.

We definitely have a lot of differences, too.

Like Ed can’t sit still to save his life, and on occasion I have been known to binge watch an entire season of Murder, She Wrote , hardly moving a muscle all day, except to get snacks.

Ed’s also wildly successful, and while I was nominated for teacher of the year in 2022, I don’t think anyone would call me a success without some serious prompting.

Ed also… Honestly…there’s still so much I have to learn about him and him about me.

Back at the house, Anh is sitting straight as an arrow on a yoga mat on the deck, her eyes open but unfocused, her hands on either knee.

When I walk up the stairs, she looks my way and smiles. “Want to join me? I saw another mat in the mudroom.”

It’s been years since I’ve done yoga, probably since we stayed at that resort in Puerto Rico and Anh dragged us there every morning. I’m never good at stretching before and after running like I should.

“Sure.” I go inside and kick off my shoes, grabbing the light-gray mat and rolling it out next to Anh.

Anh leads us through some sun salutations and warriors. I feel so much better than when I woke up.

Robin finds us. “You two are yoga-ing without me?”

She runs back inside, coming out after about ten minutes in yoga pants and a sports bra, with a pale-pink mat tucked under her arm, rolling it out next to mine.

We flow together, Anh giving instructions.

She’s so much softer when she leads yoga.

They don’t feel like orders, more suggestions.

She used to teach at a studio when she was an undergraduate at UCLA.

She guides us into a hand-balancing pose, where we squat and tilt forward, placing palms on the floor, balancing our knees on our elbows and lifting our bodies off the ground.

I wobble and fall on my face. We all laugh, and it feels like I’m nine years old again.

I try again and again—we crack up as I tip too far forward each time.

I sit on my mat. “My arms aren’t strong enough for crow pose.”

Anh shakes her head. “Bullshit.”

I laugh.

But Anh continues, “You’re looking back, when you need to look out. My yoga teacher always told me to look toward the future. ”

She points to a spot beyond my mat. I gaze at it, getting into position again. Gently, I lift one leg, then the other, and suddenly I’m doing it. My feet are off the ground, my arms supporting my body.

I set my feet back down softly, smiling. “I did it.”

“You did it!” Robin cheers.

As we move through the rest of our flow, I wonder how many other times I’ve fallen flat on my face because I was too concerned with muscling my way through the task at hand, too focused on where I could fall instead of looking out to what could be possible.

The future. What do I want for my future?

I want love—unending, all-encompassing love.

I want to get married and start a family.

I haven’t admitted that to myself since Chad left, but it’s true.

Could I have that with Ed? I want one of my books to be published, to stop holding myself back and believe in my writing, in my book, in myself enough to actually give one of my novels to an agent.

I’ve been so afraid of rejection and then of the reception once it is published.

People tearing my books to shreds for likes on TikTok or one-star reviews on Goodreads.

But what if someone loves it? What if it’s someone’s favorite book? I just need to finish it.

And if I’m being completely honest with myself, I want to open my own bookstore.

I don’t want to go back into the classroom.

Anh leads us into savasana. My arms splay out to either side. I grab Robin’s hand on one side and Anh’s on the other. We lie there for a few long deep breaths, holding hands, listening to the ocean waves, and my heart is full.

“Thank you, Anh,” I say as I roll up the mat.

“Of course. It’s been a minute since I led a class. I missed it.”

Robin puts a hand on her shoulder.

“We should have our book club meeting today,” Anh says. “I have to leave Sunday.”

“What?” I say. “But you just got here. ”

Anh sighs. “I know. I have to go back to work. But I’ll come back again for a whole week at the end of August.”

“I have some things going today.” Robin smiles brightly and links arms with both of us. “Let’s have our meeting tomorrow.”

We all agree. I grab two cups of coffee and bring them to my room. Ed is sitting up, typing on his phone, still shirtless and still in bed. He puts his phone on the bedside table when I come in. I hand him the coffee, and he smiles. “Thanks.”

I wriggle off my sweaty clothes and get under the covers in my underwear.

“I think we should do it.”

He sets his mug on the bedside table. “You don’t have to ask me twice.”

He throws an arm around me and pulls me down farther on the bed.

I laugh, holding my coffee up, so it won’t spill on the white comforter.

“No! I mean— yes , but I was talking about the race. We should race with our drafts. I really believe in this book; I know it’s corny, but it feels like the book of my heart. I just need a deadline.”

Ed sits back up. “You could give yourself a deadline.”

“But a race would be more fun.”

“I can’t race.”

“Why not? Are you afraid I’ll win?” I tease.

Ed gets his mug, taking a sip of coffee. “I can’t race because I got another extension. My agent let me know this morning.”

“Extension?”I lean back against the pillows, my muscles suddenly feeling tired.

“Yeah I have too many other deadlines right now. I asked last week.”

“Last week?” What other deadlines does he have, I wonder, but feel like I’m already asking enough.

“Yeah she just emailed me back before the trip.”

“You didn’t tell me about it.”

Ed shrugs and stands stretching. “I know you were still busy working on yours. I didn’t want to distract you. It’s not important anyway. ”

All his words make perfect sense, but I can’t help feeling left out. He grabs his phone in one hand and coffee in the other. “I’m going to hop into the shower.”

I try to smile, but the corners of my mouth refuse to obey.

“You alright?” Ed asks.

“Yeah. Fine.” I swing my legs off the bed, sitting on the edge. I should be happy for him. Why do I feel like this?

“You can still set a deadline, and either make a reward or a consequence if you don’t make it. Do you prefer treats or punishment?”

“Who doesn’t prefer treats?”

Ed shrugs. “When do you want to finish by?”

“A month,” I say without thinking, but when it comes out, it feels right. A month to finish up the first draft will give me time to clean it up then get some opinions and start sending it out by my birthday in October. That feels right.

“Okay. If you finish your draft by August fifth, I’ll buy you ice cream.”

I frown.

Ed laughs. “Not good enough. I’ll…” Ed leans down and whispers naughty nothings in my ear.

My cheeks are warm, and the sensation spreads down my neck, through my stomach, to my thighs.

I look up to meet his green eyes, on fire from the morning sun. “That and an ice cream.”

Ed smiles, slow as honey. “Deal.”

He puts down his coffee and his phone.

“I thought you were going to shower.”

“Hmm, I think we should get dirty first.”

He pulls my sports bra off then bends down to kneel in front of me, grabbing one side of my underwear then the other.

I move a bit to help him take them off, a pulse of want spreading through me.

He moves one of my legs open, so slowly I can feel every fiber of the smooth cotton sheet underneath my skin, and then he does the same to the other leg.

He just looks for a long slow beat with one hand on each leg.

My breath seizes. He moves his focus to my eyes .

“Do you want me to touch you?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

My heart is racing. “There.”

“Show me how.”

I move my fingers over the sensitive swollen skin, my nipples hardening with every circle.

Ed watches me, and then he leans in and licks softly.

He moves my fingers and replaces them with his, mimicking my circles.

I lean back, the sensation overwhelming.

He moves one finger inside softly then a second.

I cry out as I clench around him. I try to pull him up toward me, but he keeps the steady rhythm of his movements.

The motion makes my hips buck toward him.

He puts his mouth back on me, his soft lips causing tingles to shoot through me.

Stars erupt, and all my muscles tighten. I pull on Ed’s hair as I come.

He climbs onto the bed and holds me, the big spoon to my little spoon. My heart is still beating fast.

I turn to him. As we kiss, I move my hands down his body, but he stops me. “I’m going to get in the shower now.”

“What about you?” I look down to emphasize my point.

He plants a small kiss on my head. “This morning was just for you. A preview of the prize waiting for you at the end of your novel.”

He kisses me again then walks out the door. It’s sweet, really. But I can’t help but feel cold and alone. I didn’t want this morning to be just for me. I wanted it to be for us.

I throw on a robe, then, grabbing my laptop, I get to work, trying to shove words into the hole left by Ed’s absence. I’m being dramatic. He’s just in the shower, but it’s an occupational hazard.

As I write more, I realize maybe I don’t need Ed’s prize at the end of this draft.

It will be nice, sure, but I can get there on my own.

What lies before me is murky and uncertain.

So much of life and love is out of my hands, but this is not.

My book is in my control. I can finish my novel when I want and how I want then show it to who I want. And so too can Ed.