Page 30 of The Now in Forever

O ur book club meeting is tonight. Nathan and Ed are going to stay out of our hair.

We are out getting all the supplies, wine, snacks, and a new journal for each of us.

It’s our tradition. Well, when we started the club, it was Kool-Aid, snacks, and sticker books.

Robin is getting the snacks, Anh is getting the wine, and I’m in charge of the journals.

There is no bookstore in Fortune Falls, so I drive down the coast to Seaside.

Beach Reads is not open yet. I’m here a little too early—story of my life.

I decide to get an oat milk latte at the coffee shop next door.

Checking the email on my phone, I see I have another interview request, this time from the private school in Portland.

I select one of the times provided, a tight knot forming in my chest. This is great. Right?

A deep voice startles me. “Hattie?”

I turn and see Superman with brown eyes, Kyle, holding a ceramic mug in his hand.

“Are you following me?”

“No.” I laugh. “I’m just killing time until the bookstore opens.”

“Ah. Care to join me?”

His laptop is open on the table by the window. “Oh no, that’s okay. You look busy. ”

“I’m not.” He hands his ceramic mug to the barista, and they fill it back up with black drip coffee.

I grab my latte and sit with him as he closes his laptop and puts it in his bag on the floor. It’s a nice leather bag and compliments the white button-up shirt and blue slacks he has on this morning.

“What are you working on?”

“Listings.”

“What are you listing?” eBay comes to mind. Maybe he’s a hobby seller. He probably has a baseball card habit.

“Properties. I’m a real estate agent when I’m not pulling beers.”

“Oh.” There goes the eBay theory, and now I feel like a dick.

“You seem surprised.”

I shrug. I honestly hadn’t thought much about Kyle, but him selling real estate does surprise me. “I guess I am a little. I just didn’t know.”

“I got into it a few years ago. Not that I don’t like The Vern. It’s fun for the most part, and sometimes I get to meet interesting and very beautiful people.”

My cheeks warm. Is he talking about me?

He laughs. “Real estate pays better. It didn’t at first, but it does now. And I like helping people find their homes. It’s fun to see them imagine their future in a place, you know. Christmases, birthdays, anniversaries. It’s like selling memories before they happen.”

I smile, intrigued by this way of looking at it. “So, you deal in dreams?”

He returns my smile. It’s warm and a little lopsided…and undeniably charming. “Basically. Why are you banging down the door of the bookstore on a Saturday morning? Is there a book you just have to read today?”

“No—well, yes. There’s always a book I’m dying to read, but I’m in the market for some journals this morning.

” I explain to him about our book club and our tradition with the journals.

“I forgot I was on journal duty this year. Last year, Robin had monogrammed leather-bound beautiful books sent to our houses. I’m hoping I can at least find their favorite colors. ”

I check the time. “It’s getting late. I should go.”

“Mind if I tag along? My showing doesn’t start for a bit, and I could use a new book.”

“Sure,” I say before truly considering it.

As we walk next door together, guilt creeps up my spine like a snake slithering through the long yellow grass.

It’s fine. We’re just hanging out; it’s not like this was planned.

If he were a woman, I wouldn’t feel weird about it.

But he’s not. He’s a very tall, incredibly handsome man, and if the roles were reversed and Ed went shopping with a cute girl, I would be jealous. But that’s silly, isn’t it?

The bells jingle as we open the door, and the woman behind the counter greets us.

Kyle waves. “Hey Nancy.”

He knows everyone, it seems. He must notice the look on my face, because he lowers his voice and says, “Helped her buy a new place after her divorce.”

Stopping at the center table, he picks up a book with a gray and silver cover. “Any recommendations?” he asks me with a hint of mischief in his warm brown eyes.

“What do you like to read?”

“I’m open. What do you write?”

I swallow hard. “I haven’t published anything.”

He looks at me with warm eyes. “Not yet.”

There’s a long beat where it feels like he really sees me. Then he smiles. “What do you like to read?”

“Mysteries.”

We wander to that section.

“Any favorite authors?”

“I love Tana French.”

Kyle runs his finger along the spines of the books and stops on one. When he pulls it out, the cover is as familiar as looking in the mirror. Stark white with black tree limbs. The title is written in bold black: In the Woods.

I take it from his hands. “This one is great. It’s the first in the series, so if you haven’t read any, it’s a good place to start.” I reach past him and pull another book off the shelf. “This one is my favorite, though.”

I hand him a copy of The Likeness.

“Sold.” Kyle takes the other from my hand, tucking both under his arm. “We should look for your journals.”

We wander over to the leather-bound notebooks.

I pick a black one for Anh, a rose petal pink one for Robin, and a sky blue one for me.

I also grab some beautiful matte finish Japanese pens, one for each of us in as close to the journal colors as I can get.

Anh’s was easy, but Robin’s is more of a hot pink than pastel, and I get a brown one to go with my blue journal.

We walk to the counter; Kyle puts his books on the down and motions for me to do the same.

I shake my head. “Oh no. I can get it.”

“Please, it’s my treat.”

I hesitate. I don’t want to send the wrong message. Hanging out is one thing. Accepting gifts is another. I realize he’s already handed over his card. He buys two Beach Reads bookstore tote bags too, and Nancy splits up our purchases for us while they chat about her condo.

She hands me the tote with the journals and Kyle the other one. We thank her and walk out together.

“I’ll pay you back.”

He waves me away.“Buy me a beer sometime.”

I bite my lip, wondering if I should ask, and then decide to go for it. What harm could there be in asking? “Hey, do you know what the story is with the bookstore in Fortune Falls?”

“That blue house down the road from The Vern?”

I nod.

“The owner passed away…gosh, must be about ten years ago now. I think the family debated for a long time what to do. None of them live here or anywhere close. They’re all out on the East Coast. But they put it up for sale a couple of years ago.”

“Ahh.”

Kyle’s eyes spark. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. Do you know how much it’s listed for? ”

“No, but I can find out; my buddy is the agent on that one. I can probably get the keys. We could look around.”

Kyle checks his phone. “Oh, it’s later than I realized. I have to run. Maybe I’ll see you at the bar? I’ll be there tomorrow—and all the other days except Saturday. It’s my day off.”

I smile. “Your day off to go work.”

He laughs. “Exactly. Do you want me to get the keys to the bookstore?”

“Yeah, actually. If it’s not too much trouble, I’d love to take a look.” There’s no harm in looking.

“No trouble at all. Here, give me your number. I’ll text you.”

He hands me his phone, and I enter my number, feeling incredibly guilty as I do. But I shouldn’t. It’s not like we’re going on a date. As I hand the phone back, our fingers brush for a brief moment.

There is a heavy pause where I think he may lean in, but it’s over before I know it.

“See you later.” Kyle walks away extremely fast down the street.

I call after him, “Thank you!”

He waves over his shoulder.

I go for a little walk, finishing what’s left of my latte, window shopping and trying to escape the feeling that’s lingering from my run-in with Kyle like perfume hanging in the air.

I should’ve mentioned Ed while we were hanging out.

But how? Just say, “Oh hey, remember that guy I insisted I wasn’t dating?

Turns out I’m dating him now…I think. Just so you know, FYI and all that. ”

He would’ve looked at me like I was insane.

Completely uncalled-for information. It’s fine.

Kyle and I are just friends. Friends buy friends journals all the time.

I just bought these journals for my friends, in fact.

Technically, Kyle did. I finish off my oat milk latte and throw the empty cup in a nearby trash can.

When I get back to the house, the deck is set up with a cheese board to rival all other cheese boards.

It has all varieties of olives— green, Kalamata, an oily mix of chopped ones.

There are five different cheeses, three kinds of crackers, and little pickles that are so cute, I nearly clap when I see them.

A bowl of cashews, one of rosemary roasted almonds, and another of walnuts mixed with dried cherries dot the spread.

Fresh raspberries are interspersed throughout the board at the same time, separating sections and tying it all together.

I reach out for one and pop it into my mouth, the mix of sweet and tart hitting me right in the back of the jaw.

“Hey, no pilfering the snacks. Wait until it starts.” Robin wags her finger at me, a bottle of white wine in her other hand. She dunks it in the waiting ice bucket.

“I couldn’t help it.”

Anh comes out with three stemless wineglasses. “I bought red too. Should I bring it out now?”

Robin purses her lips to the side, eyes searching the clouds before declaring, “We’ll start with the white. Are we all ready?”

“Let me just use the bathroom, and then I’m all set.”

Robin and Anh both flit around the table, fixing little things, making it perfect. It fills my heart with so much joy. Giving them both a kiss on the cheek, I head inside and run up the stairs, feeling like a kid before a birthday party.

I use the bathroom quickly, wondering if I should’ve wrapped the journals.

I take my tote bag to my room, thinking maybe I can find some ribbon or string to at least tie the pen to the journal, but I stop dead in my tracks.

Ed is in his room, door open, audiobook blaring out impossibly fast words. He’s packing.

“Oh, hey.” Ed catches me watching him. “Getting ready for book club?”

I nod. “Are you and Nathan going somewhere?” I motion to the small rolling suitcase open and half full on his bed.

He runs a hand over his hair. It’s the exact same gesture he used to do when he had a shaved head.

I wonder if that’s when the habit started.

I wonder if he expects to feel the soft yet prickly hairs under his hand instead of his longer hair he has now.

It’s like my brain is trying to distract me from what’s happening. “I have to go. ”

“Go?”

He clears his throat. “Yeah, my trip to LA. My agent sold the film rights to Vex, and there’s a director attached—a big one. He wants to meet me. Didn’t I tell you all this?”

“No.” All the blood rushes from my face. “Ed, that’s great.”

Ed keeps packing while he talks. “He wants to meet me—him and the producer. They want me to write the screenplay. There’s a party at his house in LA tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

Ed stops and looks me in the eye. “Yeah, my flight’s in a couple of hours.”

“Oh.” This can’t be happening. How could I forget about his trip? We just started getting closer, finally after all these years, and he’s leaving. For how long?

“In Portland.”

“Oh.” It hits me how little time he actually has. Portland is a two-hour drive at least, on a good day. On a Saturday, I’m not even sure. “Shit. You have to go now.”

Ed nods and throws a few more things into his suitcase. “I really do.”

“When will you be back?”

“A couple weeks. I’m not exactly sure.”

He zips up his suitcase and heaves it on the floor. He grabs me by the waist and kisses me, his lips soft but insistent. It’s a kiss that has an end right from the beginning.

It’s a goodbye kiss.

We part, and he says, “I’ll text you as soon as I know more.”

“Okay.” I hate how small my voice sounds, how meek. I should be happy for him. I am happy for him. But this feels an awful lot like a goodbye we shared once before, and then I didn’t see him for a decade.

He lugs his suitcase down the stairs and out the door without a look back in my direction.