Page 6 of The Now in Forever
The table is full of food. There’s a plate of fries, a hummus platter, nachos, a pitcher of beer, and both Nathan and Ed have burgers in front of them. Robin and Nathan are sitting next to each other, which leaves me the space on the bench next to Ed. My heart pounds in my ears.
I can do this. I can sit next to the man who’s held a piece of my heart for years and doesn’t even know it.
Setting my wine down first, I slide my legs into the picnic bench as gracefully as one can. The person who invented picnic tables and the person who invented short flirty sundresses should’ve had a little chat.
Ed turns his body slightly so he’s half facing me.
“Hattie’s also a writer,” Robin says, holding her wine in one hand and a chip in the other.
I hate when she does this, pushing a connection. Plus, calling me a writer when I haven’t finished a novel feels disingenuous. “More like an unemployed English teacher.”
Robin makes a raspberry, waving me away. “You’ll find a new job, no problem. ”
Ed smiles, warm and wholehearted, as he shifts his body on the bench so he’s facing me even more. “What do you write?”
I’m mid drink—trying to hide behind my glass—and swallow a little too quickly. The wine goes down the wrong pipe. I sputter for breath, my cheeks flaming hot, eyes watering. Ed pats my back, sending electric pulses all the way to my toes.
“You alright?”
Am I alright? I just need to pretend that I don’t remember our day together, either.
Only, I’ve never been good at pretending things aren’t the way they are.
With my parents pretending to be in love for “the sake of the family” for so long, you’d think I’d be a pro.
It had the opposite effect. I’m a terrible liar.
Should I just bring it up? What’s the worst that could happen?
He could not remember our day together at all, instead of just not realizing it was me, and what’s left of the romantic in me would be splattered like one of the many casualties on my windshield.
I’ll live the rest of my days alone. Maybe I’ll get a cat or a fish.
I will leave all the boxes on my dream life list unchecked.
Nope. I’ll just pretend.
“I’m good,” I manage to whisper.His hand falls from my back, and my skin feels cold in its absence.
There’s mischief in the upturned corners of Robin’s lips. “Ed was asking what you write?”
I glare at her. She’s trying to fix us up, in her extremely unsubtle ways. “Murder stuff.”
Ed’s eyebrow arches. “Like true crime?”
“No, mysteries, sometimes thrillers. There’s always a murder.”
“Anything I may have read?” Ed asks as he dips a fry in ketchup and pops it into his mouth.
There’s a beat of silence that threatens to swallow me whole as the last question runs circles in my head. I’m nearly thirty and not published yet. Being a writer and owning my own bookstore were my two dreams growing up, and I haven’t done either.
Robin rushes to fill the gap in conversation. “We read your book, you know?— ”
I will Robin not to say it. Don’t say it.
“Hattie picked it for book club.” There it is. Now he’s going to think I’m some kind of super fan, going to his signings, talking about his book in Story Club.
He finishes chewing. “Which one?”
Which? I hadn’t realized he wrote another one. After that signing, I stopped searching him on the internet, and I quit all social media after high school.
“ Vex ,” I answer.
“Sounds about right. What’s on the docket for this month?”
“It’s not a monthly club. When we were little, Hattie used to visit every summer?—”
Ed is nodding slowly. “From Montana.”
My heart is beating fast. Did I say I’m from Montana? Robin and Nathan could’ve mentioned that’s where I drove from today. Honestly, I’m so tired I may have said it, and I don’t remember. I set my wine down, deciding I don’t need any more tonight.
“Right.” Robin smiles brightly. “We each pick one book for the three months of summer.”
“What are the books this time?”
“ The Motorcycle Diaries, ” Robin says.
Nathan tips an imaginary hat. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
Robin snuggles into Nathan’s side as she finishes, “ The Likeness by Tana French and Beach Read by Emily Henry.”
Ed makes a face—not one I can entirely read—as he chews a large bite of burger.
“You want in?” Robin asks.
I gasp—I can’t help it. We don’t let people into Story Club. It’s the three of us, that’s it. No boyfriends, no girlfriends, nobody else. Why would she invite Ed?
“I have to work on my book. It’s due to my editor at the end of the summer, but I’ll read one if I have time.”
I’m relieved he basically politely declined. “What are you working on?” I ask, proud of myself for pulling it together enough to join the conversation .
“It’s a novel about a time slip. A man meets a woman, and they slide through a vortex to the future.”
“Ooh, that sounds interesting.” I grab some pita.
“Yeah, it does.” He laughs. “But so far, it’s not. At all. I have a lot of work ahead, and I’m not sure if I should scrap the idea and do something else.”
“I know what you mean. I’ve hit a point in my mystery, too, where I don’t know where to go with it. It feels flat, and I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
Robin slams her wine down on the table, her hands flapping. “Oh my God. You guys! You should do a genre switch, just like that book we’re reading!”
Ed backs up reflexively, but there’s only so far you can go at a picnic table.
Robin’s enthusiasm can be a lot for some people, but it’s one of the things that I love about her. “The Emily Henry one?”
“Yes.” Robin points to me with her bright-red, sensibly short nail. “You write a speculative literary fiction book.” She turns her finger on Ed. “And you write a mystery. It solved all their problems in the book, and they fell madly?—”
My glare stops her from finishing that sentence.
“It might shake up your writing process anyway,” Robin says then takes a healthy drink of her wine.
I know she’s trying to find ways to throw us together, but this isn’t a terrible idea.
Ed’s dark brows are knitted together in a look of deep thought. It’s so sexy, I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from taking a finger and smoothing out the wrinkles.
“Hmm. A mystery.” Ed nods slowly. “Might make for a fun summer.”