Page 3 of The Now in Forever

Back in the car, I press play on Anne of Green Gables , trying to shake off the heavy conversation.

Ever since the first summer Robin, Ahn, and I met, I’ve loved this book and always have it downloaded on my phone.

Good thing, too, since the audiobook I downloaded specifically for the trip was over before I even made it out of Montana.

The Motorcycle Diaries, Robin’s pick this year for book club because it’s Nathan’s favorite.

It was okay, way shorter than I expected.

If I’m being honest, I was looking for things to dislike about it.

Robin would never pick this book herself.

She’s always choosing memoirs and personal development books—never call them self-help; it’s a thing.

Will next year’s pick also be one of Nathan’s favorites?

If they have kids, will we be reading The Cat in the Hat ?

The phone rings, jarring me out of my silent rant.

“Anh, you’re saving my sanity right now.”

“As usual. How long left of the drive do you have?”

“I’m about thirty minutes away. Are you and Melissa already there?”

There’s a heavy silence.

“Anh?”

“Robin didn’t tell you? ”

I bite my lip. Tell me? Anh can’t come. The whole point of all of us staying at Nathan’s family beach house for the summer is to commemorate our twentieth anniversary of Story Club. Twenty years! How can we commemorate with one third of the club missing? “You’re not coming.”

“I am coming, only not for a couple of weeks. I couldn’t get out of work. But we’ll be there for the Fourth and then again at the end of summer.”

It’ll be just me and the lovebirds. Not that it would be much different if Anh and Melissa were there. They’ve been engaged and madly in love for years now.

“How was the move?” Anh asks.

“Okay. I got rid of most of my stuff, and what’s left I just dropped off at my grandma’s.”

“That’s nuts. I can’t believe you’re moving.”

“Yep. I applied for a job in southeast Portland teaching English at a private school.”

Anh sighs. “Just like Anne Shirley.”

I laugh. Anne of Green Gables is how we met and formed Story Club—named from the book as well.

I was visiting my grandma as I did every summer, and she signed me up for swim lessons.

Anh and I were both sitting on the bench waiting for class to start, reading Anne of Green Gables , which, in retrospect, given our age—nine—isn’t that amazing, but at the time it felt like destiny.

Because Robin and Anh were neighbors and already best friends, we convinced Robin to read the book, and thus Story Club was formed.

“I have to run sweetie. Drive safe.”

“I always do.”

Anh makes a kissy noise through the phone and hangs up.

I roll down the window. The trees are so dense, I can’t see the ocean, but the salty tang in the air lets me know it’s there.

Sunlight spears through the branches, and I lower my rose gold aviator sunglasses.

The car rounds a corner, and there it is, the ocean.

White-capped waves breaking up an endless expanse of blue.

I switch off the audiobook. “Cruel Summer” plays over the radio, and I put my hand out the window, relishing the fresh air on my arm while I take the exit off the 101.

On the very edge of town is a white stone coffee shop with tables out front that’s closed now, but I make a mental note to go there tomorrow.

I picture myself sitting at a window seat with my laptop and a perfectly made latte with a little foam heart on top, clacking away at my keys.

My dual timeline mystery is coming along.

I hope to have it finished by the end of summer, but how many times have I thought that before about a project?

This time, though, nothing’s stopping me, I have time to write.

The main street of the small town of Fortune Falls is like stumbling onto the set of a movie. Low brick buildings, mixed with others with weather-worn wooden siding, line the avenue, each business with a different color awning hanging above it, from faded red to sky blue.

The corner building is a bar with a massive, smashed sign hanging out front, only the vern of Tavern lit up. The bright-red wooden door is closed, but the neon sign in the window flashes open.

GPS informs me this is my turn toward the water.

The road morphs into dirt. Finally, after some jarring bumps and clunks from my suitcases and boxes in the back, I’m at the two-story white house I’ll call home for the summer.

The late-afternoon sun shines on the wraparound porch like a spotlight, and bubbles of excitement fill my chest.

Stepping out of the car, I stretch my arms above my head. The house sits on a small hill, so the ocean is visible even from down here. The second-story view must be amazing.

Robin walks out, the screen door slamming behind her, and runs down the porch steps. “You made it!”

“Barely.”

She throws her arms around me in a massive hug. I inhale her orchid shampoo, the same kind she’s used since we were fifteen.

We part and look at each other. It’s been years since we’ve seen each other in person—our girls’ trip to Puerto Rico right after that awful book signing at The Nook.

Robin’s long honey blonde hair hangs in loose waves down her back. Even though Robin and Nathan only got here a week ago, her normally fair skin is already a little tan.

Robin squeezes my hand. “It’s so good to see your actual face, not on a Zoom screen.”

I smile. “I was thinking the same thing.”

She links arms with me, and we walk toward the house. “Let’s get you a drink.”

We climb the porch stairs, and I follow Robin to the kitchen, to the left of the entryway. It’s delightful, with fern-colored cabinets and strawberry wallpaper. Robin pulls a bottle of rosé out of the fridge and sets it on the enormous kitchen island.

“We thought we could all go to The Vern for dinner. It’s that cute little bar on the corner. Did you see it when you drove by?”

“Mm-hmm. Sounds good. Cozy table for three.”

Robin takes two wineglasses out of the cupboard. “Not exactly.”

“Oh, who else is coming?”

She gives us both generous pours and hands me my wine. “Actually, you’re never going to guess who Nathan invited.”

The cold liquid is bright on my tongue as I take a sip.

She’s always trying to fix me up. Robin loves love.

So much, in fact, that she became a social media coordinator for a popular dating service.

It’s not that I don’t like love. It would be great to meet someone and have something special, something that lasts, like what my grandparents had.

But I’m not sure that kind of connection exists anymore.

Anytime I’ve ever found it, it’s left me worse off than when I started.

Robin is smiling widely. “It turns out he was besties in middle school with none other than…”

Footsteps come from the stairs, definitely more than one set. Nathan walks in the kitchen, followed closely by a tall, dark-haired man with eyes the color of moss in a shady forest.

My heart is in my throat.

“The guy who wrote that book you picked for Story Club.”

The room tilts to the side as the wine sits heavy on my tongue. Robin’s still speaking, but it sounds like it’s through a paper towel tube .

My skin feels like the volume is turned up—the strings on the end of my shorts tickling my thighs, my soft shirt shifting against my stomach.

The suit jacket is gone, as are the ripped-up jeans. What hasn’t changed from ten years ago is the beat-up band shirt hanging loose on his broad shoulders, this one with a little brown monkey on it.

I know this sensation of everything being more.

I know this man.

It’s Ed.