Page 39 of The Now in Forever

T here’s a tiny knot of anticipation that has wedged itself in my throat, and no amount of runs, or yoga on the porch, glasses of wine, or episodes of Gilmore Girls will dissipate it. Today is the day I’m going to see Ed after our month of no talking.

The weather has been windy and gray. Robin stands with her arms crossed, in flip-flops, sundress, and oversized cardigan while I put my bag in the car. It’s adorable. She insisted on seeing me off.

“This summer has gone by so fast; I can’t believe it’s already mid-August.”

I smile. It has and it hasn’t. Some days have felt like a year with no end, and some have gone by in a blink of an eye. But I just say, “It has.”

We hug, her fuzzy sweater soft on my cheek. “Call me and let me know how it goes.”

“I will.”

The sun is just starting to shine through the cloudy day as I drive away from Fortune Falls, the white caps of the ocean bobbing in my rearview mirror.

In the short amount of time I’ve been here, the trails, the wind-whipped sand, the ocean, Main Street…

It’s all started to feel like home. Maybe it will be.

Turning on my new audiobook—I bought the latest Annabelle Monaghan as a treat for the drive—I lose myself in the story as the miles pass.

Before I know it, I’m pulling up to the hotel I booked in NE Portland, right off Flanders.

After I find parking, I check my phone. Sitting right at the top of my email is an offer letter from the private school in Portland.

My heart races, and I shove my phone into my bag, uncertain of how to reply or what to do.

Despite the name being the Gold Pony Hotel, the sign for it is bright red.

When I booked the room, I chose this place because it was one of the more affordable.

The lobby carpet is brown with yellow swirls covering it.

Maybe they’re supposed to be gold. I check in and make my way to my room on the second floor.

The room itself is clean but smells like this was once the smoking wing of the hotel.

I toss my bag down, hang up my dress, and throw myself on the bed, the soft cushion of the comforter billowing around me as I do.

It’s about ten degrees hotter here than it was on the coast. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss the ocean breeze.

I cross the room to the window, opening the thick red curtains.

My room looks over the pool, aquamarine water sparkling in the sun.

My mind flashes to my visit to LA. To him kissing me next to the pool, so soft and hungry.

My watch alerts me to a phone call, pulling me out of my thoughts. It’s Chad. My breath catches in my throat. He must have news.

I answer. “Hello.”

“Hattie. Are you sitting down?”

Blood rushes to my face. We haven’t spoken in over a year, and the first thing he does is tell me what to do. Fuck that. “What is it, Chad?”

“It’s the house.”

I continue to stand, staring out the window at the chlorinated water as Chad explains the sale fell through. The foundation is cracked, and it needs a new roof. There’s no money coming anytime soon.

My knees wobble, which is probably why he suggested I sit. He is still talking, but there’s a roar in my ears. Like the ocean.

He’s saying things like hiring contractors and re-listing. But it’s all useless words. The bookstore is perfect, and there’s no way I can buy it .

After we hang up, I go back and lie down on the bed.

The clock on the nightstand changes to five before I know it. If I don’t get ready now, I’ll be late to meet Ed. If he’s still meeting me. He never returned my call.

I want to take my time getting ready so I look my best, but I spent too long wallowing and don’t have the luxury of slow, methodical movements.

Once my makeup is done and my hair is up the way I planned, I put on my light-blue dress, slip on my silver sandals, and call a Lyft.

The ride to the museum where the awards are being held takes longer than I expect.

Traffic is bad, and my hotel is farther away than I realized.

My nerves crackle as I get out of the car and walk through the sculpture park to the museum’s main entrance.

Women in long dresses and men in tuxes are milling about, some on their way in, some with drinks in hand, admiring the sculptures.

I’m drawn in by one of a horse that appears to be made out of driftwood.

Running my hand over it, I realize it’s metal.

The patina is so realistic, the color just like the dried pieces of wood lying all over the beach at Fortune Falls.

“I’m afraid you can’t touch the art.”

I pull my hand away, my heart in my throat as I turn to apologize.

It’s Ed, his green eyes full of mischief, his head shaved again, just like that first time I met him.

He’s smiling ear to ear and looking very dapper in a black tux, with a Breeders T-shirt instead of a typical collared shirt.

I want to think of something clever to say, but my mind is blank, all the blood pumping wildly through my heart, none left for word play.

“Hey.”

We close the distance. He puts his arms around me, and our lips meet.

It’s a soft kiss. A kiss very appropriate for the public space we are in.

But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want more.

I want him to lean me against this driftwood horse and run his hands down my body. Audience and art be damned.

He pulls back first. “Ready to meet some people?”

I’m not. I can’t even remember why this party felt so important to me at the beginning of summer.

I can find an agent on my own. It doesn’t even seem as important anymore.

Now that the bookstore isn’t possible, it’s all I want in the world.

Ed grabs my hand and squeezes. The motion goes straight to my heart. Maybe not the only thing I want.

I want to take Ed to my funky hotel and have him lay me down on the bed. I want to hear all about his time in LA. I want to ask him about Chloe and why he didn’t call me back.

It’ll all have to wait. I smile and nod. “Let’s do it.”

Ed introduces me to his agent and his current editor.

He introduces me to the vice president of one of the big five publishers, as well as a whole list of some of my literary heroes, all before we’ve even made it to the bar for a drink.

There’s a long line, and Ed runs his hand along my back.

“I’ll get us something while you mingle. Red wine?”

The museum is stuffy. “White please.”

“You got it.”

Wandering, I take in the art. There is a stunning Frida Kahlo exhibit.

I stop to look at one of my favorite paintings of hers, What the Water Gave Me.

It’s an intricate painting of her feet in the bathtub, the reflection of the water making two sets of toes on either side.

The bath is filled with scenes—two women on a bed, two men in suits behind some ferns, a volcano with a skyscraper erupting from it.

Her legs are just visible in the water underneath all of it.

It’s so funny, because it’s so fantastical and mundane at the same time.

What is it about staring at your feet in the tub that opens up a window to your soul?

A tap on my shoulder startles me, and I turn around, expecting to see Ed, but find a very tall, very blonde woman.“Have you seen Ed?”

“Uh, he went to the bar to get us some drinks.”

Her hot-pink lips turn up in a small smile. “Will you tell him to find Megan? I want to say goodbye before he moves.”

The blood rushes from my head to my toes in one fell swoop. He’s moving? Robin mentioned something about him moving to LA. I thought she was just throwing out wild possibilities, but what if she knew something? What if he told Nathan?

I’m nauseated and my cheeks are burning.

I make my way through the sea of tuxedos and gowns, the smell of cologne and perfumes overpowering in the warm room.

When I get outside, I gulp in the fresh air like surfacing from underwater.

I have a seat on an open bench, the metal cold through the thin layers of my dress.

My heart rate starts to slow, my cheeks feel less flushed.

After a while, Ed comes out the front door with two drinks in his hands, looking back and forth, his eyes lingering by the horse where he found me before. Then he spots me, his face breaking into a smile.

He strides over. “There you are.”

“I needed some air.”

He hands me my drink. “Yeah, it’s really crowded this year.”

“I ran into Megan.”

His eyes widen for a fraction of a second. “Oh yeah? I didn’t see her in there.”

I take a sip of my wine. “She wants to talk to you.”

“Yeah, I’ll catch up with her later. I want to spend time with you.”

Here goes. I watch his face closely for any reaction as I say, “She mentioned you’re moving.”

He sighs, rubbing his hand on his head to the back of his neck. “I wanted to talk to you about that.”

“Where?”

“To LA. But it might not be a permanent thing.”

“Are you seeing Chloe Kramer?”

There is a minuscule flinch. “Chloe?”

“I saw the Instagram post.”

Ed blows out a long breath. Then takes an even longer sip of his beer, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion. Each second that goes by is torture. When he brings his beer down to his leg, his green eyes look deep into mine. I want him to tell me I’m wrong.

“Hattie. I’ve been hanging out with Chloe.”

My heart plummets, free falls into the pit of my stomach.

“But nothing has happened. We’re just friends.”

“Friends?”

He nods.

“Do you have feelings for her?”

“Chloe? ”

I laugh at his absolutely ridiculous question. “Yes, Chloe.”

“No.”

“Is that even true?”

“Yes.”

“How can I know that? Why didn’t you ever return my call?”

“What call?”

“A couple weeks ago, I called when I found the post so we could talk about it, but you never called me back.”

Ed sighs again. He looks so beat. Dark circles under his eyes, his shoulders slumped like the weight of his head is too much. Like his bones are too heavy. “I blocked your number.”

“You what?”The noise of the party falls away.

Ed closes his eyes. “It was too hard not to text you, so I just took away the temptation and blocked your number. This whole not talking thing was your idea, remember?”

“Because you were hardly texting me anyway. I was tired of waiting for it.”

“Was that the real reason? Or was it because you were off with that bartender?”

I sit back and feel like he slapped me. “What?”

“You think I didn’t notice you two flirting all summer?”

I laugh. “All summer? You weren’t even there all summer. You left, again .”

“I had to. You wouldn't understand.”

My pulse ratchets on the side of my throat. “I wouldn’t understand, because I’m not a big fancy author?”

“That’s not what I meant. Look, I can’t deal with this right now.”

“What? Me? You can’t deal with me right now?”

Ed looks at the ground. “I’ve hardly been sleeping—I’ve just been tinkering with the script night and day. I don’t want to fuck it up. This film stuff could lead to something big.”

I nod, feeling the truth of what he’s saying wash over me like a summer rain. What he’s working on is incredible, life-changing stuff. But I thought what we had might be too. “I know. It is. It seems like with you, there’s always an amazing opportunity. ”

Ed shakes his head. “Hattie.”

“You know what?” I stand. “That bartender does like me. He even kissed me.”

The shock and hurt on Ed’s face is exactly why I said it, but now that I’m seeing it, I instantly regret my words. “I didn’t kiss him back. I turned him down because I have stupid feelings for you. And the bookstore.”

“Are you really going to buy the bookstore?”

“No, I’m not. I can’t. I wanted to talk to you about it though, about us—our future. But it’s clear that something else will always come first.”

I walk away, my light-blue skirt billowing behind me, expecting Ed to come after me or call out my name, but he just lets me go.