Page 42 of The Now in Forever

U ncle Rob showed up and took over the way only Uncle Rob can do. I said my goodbyes and got back on the road. My mind plays over and over what I might say to Ed when I call. Should I call or wait for him to call? Should I just text him?

The whole way to Fortune Falls, I think of things I can say or things I can do, but nothing clicks. Once I’m back at the beach house, I shower for a long time, letting the warm water unravel the knots in my shoulders.

After, I go to my phone and see I’ve missed a call.

Not from Ed, but from Anh.

I call her back, and everything comes spilling out of me at the same rate as the tears falling down my cheeks. First about my grandma, then about Ed. And finally. The bookstore.

“Hattie. I’m so sorry. I can’t fix most of that. You and Ed should talk. If there’s one thing I regret with Melissa, it’s that I kept so much of my feelings bottled up. I didn’t want to burden her. But it just drove us further apart. Call him, or if that feels too hard, write.”

“I can write.” I nod to myself, the tears slowing.

“Yes, you can. And about the bookstore… well, I have an idea. It’s actually why I called. And now with the house stuff, it almost feels like destiny. ”

“Destiny? Who is this? Put Anh back on the phone.”

She laughs, and my whole body feels lighter.

“Would you ever consider having a business partner?”

My heart bubbles over like a fizzy glass of champagne. “Are you serious?”

“Aren’t I always?”

“No.” I can’t believe this. Anh and me owning a bookstore together? This could be amazing.

“Well, I am this time.”

We talk for an hour, going over all the logistics.

Anh doesn’t want to run the store, but she’d love to be an investor and help with all the paperwork and the legal side of things.

She looked over the business plan and made some notes of things we might want to consider.

She’s going to send it to me. Once it’s in a good place, we’ll contact Rick and draw up all the paperwork.

Holy shit! We’re buying a bookstore.

I run to my laptop and open my email. On top is one from Anh with a document attached. My heart skips a beat. This is happening. I’m about to click on it and tuck into the work, when another email catches my eye—from Ed.

Message sent: Sunday August 18th 11:18 p.m.

Hattie,

I’ve been trying to figure out what to say to you and how to say it since we said goodbye at the coffee shop. For two people who seem to be crazy about each other, we sure do say a lot of goodbyes. I know email is not a romantic gesture, but maybe it can be.

Writing is supposed to be what I’m good at—so here I go.

That sunny afternoon, when I saw you at the beach house, I couldn’t believe it was you. Like literally, couldn’t believe it. When you remembered me from the signing but didn’t bring up when we met at the bookstore, I thought maybe it wasn’t you.

But as we spent more and more time together, I knew it was.

I didn’t know how to bring it up at first because I didn’t want to ruin our new thing.

When I finally did, I was so worried I would fuck this all up.

After fate and the universe decided to give us another chance, I couldn’t. But it really feels like I have.

I’d like a do-over. Will you come back to LA?

Let me know what you think.

Love,

Ed

I read and reread it until the screen burns my eyes. Love, Ed . He put love at the end. Does he love me, or is that just how he signs his informal emails? And he asked me to come to LA… For how long? Is he asking me to move there too?

Either way, I can’t. I won't give up my bookstore, not when it’s all coming together. My fingers tap lightly at the keys. Typing, deleting, retyping, deleting. Finally, I hit Send.

Message sent: Monday August 19th 1:13 p.m.

Ed,

Recently, I have discovered that I have a tendency to walk away when things are hard or intense.

I take the safe route to protect myself.

Like not exchanging numbers when we met a decade ago.

I was terrified you’d ghost me. And recently suggesting we not talk.

I was trying to save face after going to LA and feeling like you didn’t want me there.

But instead of running from hard conversations and sharing our feelings, I have gone the bottle it up, keep it to myself route, which won’t help anyone. So here goes…

Thank you for inviting me. Really, truly, thank you, but I can’t go. At least not right now. I’m about to see a man about a bookstore!

I don’t know where that leaves us. Hopefully, we can figure out a way for there still to be us.

Owning my own bookstore has been my dream since I was a kid. I only have this one life, and I have to go for it. If anyone can understand that, it’s you.

You’re welcome to visit me whenever you like. There’s plenty of room in my new place. Did I mention the bookstore has an apartment above it? It’s gorgeous—hardwood floors, a view of the ocean. Would you like to come see sometime?

Love ,

Hattie

Brewing another cup of coffee, I open the email and get to work.

About an hour later, a new email pops up.

Message sent: Tuesday August 19th 2:43 p.m.

That’s awesome! Congratulations.

You’re busy working on your book and about to start this new endeavor, and you don’t need to be checking your phone all the time for texts from me.

So, I would like it if we could keep emailing.

I don’t want to stop talking to you, but I also know we both might need space to focus on our own stuff right now.

I know in the past, people haven’t shown up for you in long-distance relationships, but I promise you I will.

Let me know what you think.

Love,

Ed

Setting the phone down, I take a hefty sip of coffee then stare out my window at the rolling waves.

I would like time to focus on the bookstoreand on editing my book without constantly thinking about Ed.

Email would be a good way to stay in each other’s lives without dominating it with a million texts a day.

I take a deep breath and pick my phone back up.

Message sent: Tuesday August 19th 2:57 p.m.

That’s a great idea.

It takes a solid week of going back and forth with Anh on edits.

Once the business plan is perfect, I make an appointment with the bank.

Anh offers to come, but I assure her I can do this on my own.

Despite the cool gray day, I am sweating in my sensible blue button-up shirt.

The walk to the bank is flat, but the way my heart is hammering in my chest, it feels like I’m running straight uphill.

The bank looks like it’s straight out of the seventies, with lots of brown.

Brown tiles, dark wood, and orange chairs.

Pushing my shoulders back, I take a deep breath and head to the counter.

“Hi, my name is Hattie. I have an appointment.”

An hour later, I walk outside. The clouds have cleared, and the sunshine warms my face. I dig out my phone. Anh answers on the first ring.

“We have an SBA-backed line of credit, baby!”

The whoop that comes out of Anh is so loud, I have to hold the phone away from my ear.

We email Rick, putting in an official—very official, thanks to Anh—offer on the bookstore.

After an agonizing three-day wait, Rick writes us back that the offer has been accepted. We sign everything that same afternoon, my excitement spiking with each digital yellow tab I initial.

The next morning, I put on my favorite light-blue dress with buttons up the front and my pair of vintage red Mary Janes and head out into the sunshine, a spring in my step.

Rick hands me the keys, and the cold metal on my warm palm feels like an electric shock.

This is happening.

I walk from Rick’s office to the bookstore—our bookstore—stopping by one of the shops on the way. Since I got here in June, I’ve walked down this street countless times, but today feels different. Because as of today, Fortune Falls is my home.

Turning the key in the lock of the red door, I close it softly behind me. There’s so much to do, to clean, to sort, to organize, but today is for celebrating.

I take the stairs to my apartment, opening some windows to let in fresh air.

The previous owner never used the space, so it’s been sitting empty for quite a while.

Not anymore. First thing I need to get is a bed and a shower curtain.

I picture where my things will go, what furniture I need, making my way back to the bedroom.

I pop the cork on the champagne and quickly sip at the foaming bubbles.

I own a bookstore with my best friend. It may have cost me the love of my life, but I followed my gut, no magic eight ball needed. Drinking champagne straight from the bottle, I take a photo of the ocean view from my room then send it to Anh and Robin with the text:

Me: We own a bookstore .

Not even a minute goes by before I get texts back.

Anh: Fuck yeah, we do!

Robin: I’m on my way!

I open my email and think about sending it to Ed. After I attach the photo of my view, I think better of it and take a new one, with me in the picture, champagne held high, in front of my amazing view. I write My new home. You’re welcome anytime.

I hit Send as I hear the door creak open downstairs.

“Knock, knock.”

I run to greet Robin and Nathan, holding another bottle of champagne and glasses.

When I rush to Robin, we hug like we haven’t seen each other since last summer, like we used to as kids. I laugh into her hair as she says, “I’m so proud of you.”

A tear rolls down my cheek then another. When we part, I’m crying in earnest. She pulls me back in for another hug. “Honey.”

I sniffle. “They’re happy tears.”

And it’s mostly true, but there’s a small part of me that wonders if I shouldn’t have signed the papers and instead gotten on a plane to LA.