Page 34 of The Now in Forever

U sually, I listen to an audiobook or a podcast on my run, but this morning I left my phone at home. I’m tired of checking it every two minutes. When I get back, I see the missed call from Ed and throw the phone on the bed to take a long shower.

After I’ve dried off, I put on makeup, my mascara gliding over my lashes. If he’s going to tell me he’s not coming back, I’m going to look really good while he does it. I pour a cup of coffee in the kitchen then get myself situated in my little window seat.

My put-together face stares back at me on the screen, and I give myself a nod before I hit the button to call him back.

Ed answers on the third ring. His green eyes are bright but rimmed in dark circles, like he didn’t get much sleep. “Hey.”

His smile is warm.

“Hey yourself. How’d it go last night?”

“Great. Austin is super cool.”

“That’s awesome.” I don’t know what else to say. So, I just wait.

“Guy, the director, asked me if I’d be willing to write the screenplay down here so we can collaborate.” There is a pause that I fear may swallow me whole. Ed clears his throat. “I’m not coming back to the house this summer.”

He goes into more detail about the script, him and the director’s plan, their process. I just listen. I don’t react. I knew this is what he was going to say. It feels an awful lot like when he said he had to go to a writing retreat in Colorado.

“But I still would love to go to the Oregon Book Awards with you.”

I nod. I’ve always wanted to go to that dinner, and of course I want to see Ed again. But it’s more than a month away. I can’t believe this is happening again. I try to smile. “I’d love that.”

“Hattie—” There’s a knock at his door. “Room service. It’s my last morning at the hotel. Got to soak it in.”

I try to smile, but my lips feel heavy.

“I’ll text you later.”

“Sounds good.” No, it doesn’t. Seeing him in person, kissing him, sounds good. Texting for the next month sounds dumb.

He makes a little kissy face, and then he’s gone.

And now I have a ton of questions. When he comes back, and he’s in Portland and I’m in Portland, are we going to keep dating?

Are we still dating now? Are we a couple?

Are we exclusive? Am I even going to be in Portland?

What if I stay here? Or move to New Haven? What then?

The sound of the front door opening pulls me out of my sandstorm of questions. “Honey! I’m home!”

It’s Anh. I run to the stairs, and she has a massive suitcase. “What are you doing here?”

Sprinting down the stairs, I wrap her in a hug before she can answer.

“I guess you missed me.” She squeezes me back, and that’s when the tears come.

Anh pulls back. “Honey. What is it?”

I close my eyes, feeling so dumb. It’s not like Ed broke up with me. I wipe away my tears. “It’s fine. Ed’s gone, again. But it’s fine. I’m just being silly.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t diminish your feelings.” She takes a big breath. “Come on. Let's get some coffee.”

We take two mugs onto the porch, and I unload.

About feeling left behind—not just in the relationship, but in life.

“Here I am, not even able to publish a book, no job, not even sure what I want to be when I grow up, and Ed is meeting with A-list actors and sampling hors devours at fancy pool parties. And what am I going to do? Just live my small life, teaching kids and writing my little stories that no one ever reads.”

Anh shakes her head. “No life is small.”

I stare into my mug. Then I tell her about the bookstore. Her face is calm, but there’s a spark in her eyes.

“What’s stopping you?”

I’m unsure how to answer that—really, the only thing holding me back is the dream of Ed and me. Then I realize Anh never said why she was here. “I thought you couldn’t get more time off until the end of summer?”

Anh sits back and takes a deep inhale, the smile on her face wide and bright. “I quit.”

I nearly drop my mug. “You what?”

“Oh man. Your face.” Anh laughs. “I quit. I work all the time. I literally eat, sleep, work, and sometimes not even the first two. Then I came out here and saw the ocean and read a book and led you two in yoga on the porch. I had an epiphany. I want more of that. More living. So, I quit.”

“Wow.” I’m stunned. “What are you going to do?”

Her smile gets even wider. “I’m so glad you asked. I’m moving to Orcas Island.”

“What?”

“Remember when I did my yoga teacher training in New York? My mentor put out a post on our Facebook group looking for a guide for the resort she’s partnered with. I texted her, and that’s that. I’m going to teach yoga at a resort and spa near Cascade Lake.”

I set my coffee down. “Holy shit. When did this all happen?”

She sets her coffee down, gesturing wide with her arms. “It’s nuts. I saw the Facebook post on the fourth, and then I messaged her at the airport on my way back home—which isn’t home anymore. By the time my flight had landed, I had an offer for the position in my inbox. ”

“I can’t believe you let me blather on about my stuff when you’re moving to an island!”

She shrugs. “I wasn’t the one crying.”

I sip my coffee, still trying to wrap my head around it.

Anh sits up. “You should go to LA.”

“What?”

Anh’s eyes are bright. “Just for like a weekend or something. You two need to talk, really talk.”

“Oh…I don’t know… He’s so busy…” And he didn’t invite me. “Plus, it’d be so expensive.”

Anh waves a hand. “I have so many miles from work trips.” She scrolls her phone and taps the screen. “There’s a flight that leaves in a couple hours. You could be in Ed’s arms by tonight.”

My whole body reacts to that thought, a whoosh of excitement thrumming through my body, but it’s short lived. The tension knots in my muscles, replacing it. “I’m not sure. I should call him.”

“Do you have the address where he’s staying?”

“Nathan does.”

“Surprise him.”

Yes. It’ll be romantic, impulsive, adventurous. Excitement bubbles up in my chest. “Okay.”

Anh beams and taps the screen on her phone. “Done. The tickets should be in your inbox.”

I hop up. “Eee! Wait, when do you have to leave for Orcas Island?”

“Not for a week. Your return ticket is for Tuesday.”

“I have to pack; I have to go.” I run to the house but quickly turn back and throw my arms around Anh. “Thank you.”

She squeezes me back then turns me around, giving me a little push. “You're welcome. Go.”

It’s late afternoon and sweltering while I wait for my Lyft outside LAX.

The drive from Portland, the plane ride…

Everything has gone so smooth, it’s like I’m always jet setting about.

I’m waiting for a wh ite sedan—me and about fifty other people at the taxi station—reading each license plate as it comes until finally there’s my white Prius.

Throwing my small carry-on in the back, I get in.

The inside of the car is freezing, the air conditioning cranked all the way up.

Goose bumps instantly cover my legs, exposed in my cut-off shorts.

I pull out a cardigan from my bag and wrap it around my torso.

The driver is already driving toward our destination, Top 40 pop blaring from the stereo.

“There are waters back there. Help yourself.”

I grab a small bottle and can’t quite twist the cap off.

Wrapping my sweater around it, I really crank it, right as we swerve around a car stopped in the middle of the road with their flashers on.

The water spills all over my white shirt, not only soaking it, but also making it completely see-through. I let out a small, shocked scream.

So much for being a put-together jet setter.

He lets me out on the corner of a cute white stucco house with a rounded blue front door. I double check the address. I don’t know why I was expecting an apartment, but this is adorable.

It’s so hot, I want to take my sweater off, but I’m also soaked, and my pale-blue bra is on full display through my wet shirt, so I keep it on. I take a deep breath and knock on the door. Nothing. I give it a few minutes and then knock again. There’s no answer. Shit. He’s not home.

I walk back to the sidewalk. Should I wait? Should I text him? No, I’ve come this far. I want to surprise him face to face. I pull up the map on my phone. There’s a coffee shop about half a mile from here. I’ll get a coffee, sit in the sun and dry off, then try again.

The walk is nice, the neighborhood darling. When I pictured LA before, I thought about mostly palm trees, which there are, but I pictured big buildings, high-rise apartments, not these cute houses, with terracotta tile roofs and colorful gardens.

The coffee shop is just as cute as the neighborhood, with big windows and lots of plants. I order an iced oat milk latte and a brownie .

I’m just waiting for my drink when I spot Ed sitting in the corner.

There’s an iced coffee in front of him, and he’s sitting with a man in thick, black-rimmed glasses, salt and pepper hair, and a huge beard that’s more salt than pepper. Next to them is… I do a double take.

Chloe Kramer, one of the hottest young actresses in Hollywood right now. She’s in practically everything—that new sci-fi movie, that new tennis movie, even the latest biopic about Diana Ross, surely cast not only for her amazing acting talents but also because she’s a dead ringer.

I look down at my still-soaked shirt. Can I sneak out without them seeing me? As I’m planning my escape, the barista calls out, “Hattie.”

Ed looks up from the table, and we lock eyes.

The expression on his face makes my stomach plummet.

I may actually be sick. It’s not one of joy, that's for sure. Shock. It’s pure shock.

I give a half wave. When he waves back, both the bearded man and Chloe look over.

There’s whispering at the table, and the bearded man laughs.

I grab my iced latte, leave the brownie, thrust my shoulders back, and am going to walk over when Ed pushes back from the table. He makes it over to me in four long strides.

“Hattie. What are you doing here?”

“I…uh…”

What am I doing here? I can’t believe I let Anh talk me into this. Honestly, I didn’t think he’d be working on a Saturday. I thought he’d be excited to see me.

“Surprise.”

He laughs, but it’s not a full body expression of joy. It’s an uncomfortable sound. “Yeah, you can say that again. What happened?”

I nearly forgot my soaking wet, transparent shirt. “It’s a long story. I didn’t know you’d be here.”

His eyes are huge. “You didn’t know I’d be here?”

“I mean at this coffee shop. Obviously, I knew you’d be in LA, I came to see you… Anh quit, and it sounded like a good idea…” I trail off.

Ed fishes his keys out of his pocket and hands them to me. “We still have some things to go over. Just go to my place, and we can talk about it later.”

I feel like a child being sent to their room, but it’s not even my room.

I want to hand the keys back. I want to say don’t bother, but I can’t.

Despite this being one of the most uncomfortable situations ever, I still want to talk to him.

I take the keys and avoid any further eye contact.

I don’t look at the table of shiny, fancy famous people as I take my iced latte, hold my head as high as possible in my grubby cut-off shorts and wet shirt, and strut out the door.