Page 37 of The Now in Forever

I write like my life depends on it. Some days it feels like it does.

If I’m writing, I’m not thinking about texting Ed.

When I suggested we not text or talk or see each other, I really didn’t think it would be as hard as it’s been.

So, I write. I finished a draft last week and sent it off to two of my critique partners.

I also finished a draft of my business plan and sent it to Anh.

I’m now anxiously awaiting their feedback.

It’s a beautiful sunny day, so I decide I’ll wait with a glass of wine and a hummus plate.

There is a sandcastle festival this weekend, so The Vern is more crowded than I’ve ever seen it.

I have to push through people to even get through the door.

My usual spot is taken—well, not exactly.

There’s an open space at the bar but no stool.

Kyle is pouring two pints, chatting with a woman waiting.

His eyes meet mine across the crowd, and he smiles.

He hands off the two beers then pulls a stool out from behind the bar, putting it in the available space.

“My lady.” He motions to it like a prince showing me to my carriage.

I laugh. “Thank you, sir. How’d you know I’d come?”

While I’m here a lot, it’s not every day.

He shrugs as he grabs a glass and pours me some red wine. “I didn’t. Just hoped. ”

He hands me the drink, and our fingers graze for just a moment. Kyle has asked me out a few times, but I’ve declined, saying I’m focusing on my book and trying to plan my life, which is true. I haven’t explained about Ed, mostly because I don’t know how.

“I was thinking of going for a walk to look at all the sandcastles after my shift. Care to join me?”

It sounds like fun and not too date like. “Sure. When are you off?”

“Midnight.”

There’s no way around it. A midnight walk on the beach is a date, a very romantic one at that. Ed and I never said we were exclusive, but I know how I would feel if he did the same thing. “I think that’s a little past my bedtime.”

Kyle pushes his lips out in an adorable pout. Then he makes his eyes look twice the size. I laugh.

“I have work to do. I can’t stay up all hours of the night.”

“I’ll be out there. If you change your mind. Oh, hey, my buddy said someone else called, asking about that bookstore.”

An icy pang of fear stabs my heart. I haven’t decided what to do yet.

I received an offer for both the job in Portland and the one in New Haven.

I asked them both for some time to think about it.

I should take one of them. It would be the smart, sensible thing to do, and if I take the one in Portland, Ed may move back there.

We could try to be a couple for real. But I can’t stop thinking about the bookstore.

“Did they put in an offer?”

He dries a glass as he answers, “I don’t think so. Said they seemed really interested, though.”

Shit. I take my new journal from book club out of my bag and make a list of all the things I need to do. Each stroke of the pen calms me down and cements my decision.

I finish my glass of wine and my hummus plate, while Kyle runs back and forth behind the bar, keeping up with the constant swarm of people.

There’re so many couples. A young couple, her in a white sundress and him in nice jeans, sharing French fries.

An older couple sitting at the bar, her with a clear cocktail and him with an amber one, both with matching white hair.

Big couples, small couples, short couples, tall couples.

It’s like I’ve wandered into a romantic Dr Seuss book. I need to leave.

The walk home is quick, and I go straight to my room. I was going to work on my book some more, but I can’t look at another couple right now, not even the one I made up.

I call the Fortune Falls Business Improvement Foundation and make another appointment with a consultant.

Then I call Anh, and we talk over my plans.

I haven’t heard her so excited in a long time, and it makes me feel once again like this is right.

She’s on board, ready and willing to help with whatever I may need.

I assure her the only thing I need from her is her encouragement and maybe a little help with paperwork.

With the sale of the house and with the expertise from the FFBIF, I should be able to set up a small business SBA-backed line of credit.

After we hang up, I pull up my text thread with Ed. I’d like to talk to him one more time before I make this giant leap. One text wouldn’t hurt right? I type:

How’s it going?

And delete.

I try again:

So, about that bookstore?

Delete.

I miss you.

Delete. Delete. Delete. I can’t be the one to text first. I’m the one who went to LA, and look how well that went.

Stick to the plan. We’ll meet in Portland for the awards dinner.

He’ll be in a tux; I’ll wear the same dress I wore to the book launch.

It’s stunning, though, so I’ll look gorgeous.

I’ll put my hair up so he can take it down later. That’ll be hot.

My fingers tap on the phone, but my mind is lost in my fantasies. When my eyes focus on the screen, I’m scrolling on his Instagram page, again.

There’s nothing new, really. But then it occurs to me, I’ve never looked at his tagged photos.

The screen fills with copies of Vex in all sorts of staged pictures.

A carefully manicured hand, nails the same color as the cover, holding it up next to a full bookshelf.

The top of a stack of other books, including Kafka, Salinger, and Hemingway.

Open and next to a cup of coffee with a little latte heart on top. It goes on and on.

But the photo that catches my attention is right at the top.

It’s Ed and Chloe, her in light-denim cut-off shorts and a white tank top, him in dark pants and one of his band tees.

He has her swooped up in his arms, his biceps flexed, even though she must weigh practically nothing.

Her long leg is kicked out, and she is whispering something in Ed’s ear. His smile is devilish.

How many times has he swooped me up like that? All of them usually end with him throwing me on the bed.

I click on it, a glutton for punishment. It takes me to another account, ChloeKramerOfficial. The caption reads: Valet Service.

Valet Service? What does that even mean? How long did he carry her? Did he carry her to her house? To his? Did they fall into bed, tangled in the same sheets we made love in?

I put the phone down and pick it up again over and over. There’s no mistaking it. Ed’s into her. He has to be. Even if this is just friends messing around, look at her. She’s gorgeous. She’s an actress, a starlet.

Fuck.

Without thinking, I dial. I want an explanation, and the only person that can give it to me is Ed. I want him to explain it all away. The phone rings and rings. I don’t leave a voicemail.

Trying to sleep, I toss and turn. I keep checking my phone to see if Ed’s called. Eventually I turn the ringer on so I won’t miss it. When I check my phone again for the two-hundredth time, I notice the time. 12:11 a.m. Kyle will be out on the beach.

I throw my cut-off shorts back on, feeling a lot less sexy in them after seeing how Chloe looks in hers, put a bra on under my tank top, and head out into the night.

The air has cooled off. It’s that nice kind of chilly where you know it won’t last. When the sun comes up, it will be scorching again, but for now, the nip in the breeze sends goose bumps up my calves.

Kyle is easy to spot. The beach is deserted except for him, his Converse sneakers in his hands, the water reaching toward his feet. I run past a massive sea turtle made of sand then a mermaid riding a dolphin.

“Kyle!”

He turns, and I can see his smile even in the moonlight. When I reach him, he surprises me by wrapping me in a big hug, his long arms lifting me off the ground and spinning me around. “You came!”

When he puts me down, I nod. “I came.”

I feel like I could throw up. What am I doing here? Ed hurt my feelings, so I run off to another man. Is this who I am? But Ed and I aren’t exclusive, obviously. And he’s probably going to break up with me once he finds out I’m not leaving Fortune Falls. Why shouldn’t I explore my options?

We walk along the beach looking at the elaborate sand sculptures, the moonlight shimmering on the black waves.

“This is incredible.”

Kyle nods. “It’s always been my favorite time of year since I was a kid. My mom used to compete.”

“Really?”

“Every summer. She won once when I was nine. She built a VW bug, and it took the prize. I was so proud. Wouldn’t shut up about it my entire fourth-grade year.”

“Does she still compete?”

“She died a couple years later, when I was thirteen.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“How would you know? It’s been over twenty years, so I’ve had time to get used to it. But some days…” He trails off, swallowing hard. “Anyway, I like to come here at night, when there’s no tourists. I feel close to her.”

We weave our way through the sculptures, surprisingly only a couple of actual castles at this sandcastle festival.

There’s a giant two-foot-tall octopus with intricate suckers carved onto each tentacle, a massive crocodile with a clock between his teeth, and a giant book with its pages open.

I get closer to look at the pages. In front of the book is a sculpture of a man on one knee, holding out a ring to a woman in a dress, all made out of sand.

Carved into the pages of the book, it says, “Elizabeth, will you marry me?”

“Whoa, that’s a proposal.”

Kyle looks at me, his gaze intense. “Is that the kind of proposal you’re looking for?”

My heart stops. “No. I’m not sure I ever want to get married again.”

Even as I say it, I know it’s a lie. I do want to get married and have a family, and hopefully it’ll turn out better than it did for Chad and me and for my parents. “I don’t really know anymore, honestly. I was really against it for years, but now…I can see the appeal.”

Kyle steps closer to me, And I realize that he might’ve just taken what I said the wrong way.

Like I could see the appeal because of him, which is not what I meant.

I was just rambling. He brushes a lock of hair behind my ear, his hand lingers on my cheek.

He leans down, and time slows. He brings his lips to mine.

Is this happening? Should I let this happen?

My heart is about to beat out of my chest, but more from anxiety than excitement.

Kyle’s lips are soft, not like the pillow soft of Ed’s kiss though.

He takes his other hand on my lower back, pulling me closer.

Mechanically, Kyle is doing everything right, and with the sand sculptures, the moonlight, and the sea, it should be a perfect moment.

Except it feels all wrong. My phone is burning a hole in my pocket, and I want to check to see if Ed has called back, but of course he hasn't. It's the middle of the night.

I pull away, putting my hand to my lips.

Kyle seems stunned. “Was that too much? We can take it slow. I just got carried away.” He takes my hand. “I’ve wanted to do that since you walked into the bar that day at the beginning of summer.”

I smile. “Kyle, that’s so sweet. But… ”

But what? But I’m with someone that I’m not speaking to.

To be fair, that whole not speaking thing was my idea.

I’m dating someone who I met a decade ago, who stood me up, didn’t remember me three years ago, and who’s holding Hollywood “it girl” Chloe Kramer in his arms, probably even as we speak.

I sigh, not knowing what to say. “It’s complicated. ”

He lets my hand go. “Oh.”

“You remember that other guy? I’m sort of dating him.”

Kyle’s frown expands. “Oh.”

“I should’ve told you before. It’s just, I didn’t know what to say, because…” I take a deep breath. “I wasn’t sure you liked me in that way. And things with Ed are tricky at the moment.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain.” He looks at his watch. “It’s getting pretty late. I should walk you back.”

We stroll back silently. My mind spins, looking for something, anything, I could throw out as chit chat, but there’s nothing.

When we get to the house, Kyle takes my hand again. “Hattie, if you’re ever free, I’d love to make you dinner.”

I open my mouth, but he holds up a hand.

“I know you're seeing that other guy and it’s complicated. But love doesn’t have to be. Relationships don’t have to be. I like you. I’d like to spend more time with you. It’s simple. My offer stands, no expiration date. You just give me the word.”

I smile, even though I want to cry. Kyle is saying all the right words, and for a moment I can picture it, our life together.

An engagement party at The Vern, our wedding on the beach, a little house in town, him holding our baby, cradling her tiny head in his large hands.

Could this be my fate? Could Kyle be my forever?

Am I making a huge mistake by holding out for Ed?

“Goodnight, Hattie.”

“Goodnight, Kyle.”

He walks out into the night. I could break it off with Ed and date Kyle. He’s handsome and funny, and he wants me.

But Ed is…something else. When I’m with him, it feels like my veins are filled with glitter.

Possibilities are endless. It also feels fragile, th ough, like a temperamental house plant that will die without just the right mix of water, sunlight, and expensive, hard-to-find soil enhancer.

It feels hard. And part of what Kyle said about it not needing to be struck a chord with me.

I feel genuinely lost.