Chapter 36
T wo fated souls had somehow lost their way.
Words unspoken, feelings misunderstood, and a perfect moment shattered by doubt.
Their hearts, once so aligned, now ached in quiet corners of separate lives.
And so, the days that followed passed much like this—filled with restless silences, half-hearted distractions, and the unmistakable heaviness of something beautiful left unfinished.
Will sat at the long glass conference table at Golden Quill Publishing, looking every bit the successful author—except for the thousand-mile stare aimed at the skyline outside the conference room window.
The city buzzed beyond the glass, all sharp angles and movement, but none of it seemed to register.
Margot stood at the head of the table, clicking through a polished storyboard presentation with the publishers.
Animated and ambitious, she moved from frame to frame with practiced flair, pitching their next bestselling series.
But Will’s attention never shifted from the view, his thoughts clearly a million miles away.
Back in McKenzie Ridge, a very different meeting was taking place.
On the lush lawn of the B&B, Alex stood with a bright pink tennis ball in hand, her expression hopeful.
She gave it a solid toss across the yard, but Lady simply blinked from where she lay sprawled in the grass.
Undeterred, Alex tossed a second one. Lady didn’t so much as twitch.
Letting out a quiet huff, Alex gave up and lowered herself to the ground beside her unbothered companion.
With a small smile, she scratched Lady’s velvety ears.
The golden retriever sighed contentedly and rested her head on Alex’s lap, while Alex’s gaze drifted across the yard, lost in thought.
A few hundred miles away and a handful of hours later, Will stood inside a fenced-off dog park in Portland.
He unlatched Fetch’s leash, hoping for even a glimmer of excitement.
Instead, the big brown dog wandered over to the bench and plopped his head on the edge with a theatrical groan.
Will chuckled dryly and took a seat beside him, pulling a frisbee from his bag and tossing it half-heartedly toward the center of the park.
Fetch didn’t move. He gave Will a long, knowing look that mirrored the one on Will’s own face.
With a sigh, Will leaned back and scratched behind Fetch’s ears as the two of them sat in quiet solidarity—two forlorn figures in the middle of a world still spinning.
Later that day, The Word Well bookstore buzzed softly with the low hum of customers and the shuffle of pages.
Behind the counter, Alex and Tori worked side by side, sliding books onto shelves and reorganizing the displays.
The quiet was broken when a customer approached and set a familiar novel on the counter.
Alex reached for it absently, but as her eyes landed on the cover—Wylder Hart’s name in bold gold script—she froze.
Her hand lingered on the book, thumb brushing over the corner, eyes locked on the title.
She didn’t say a word. Tori, without missing a beat, rang up the purchase and handed the book back to the smiling shopper.
After the customer left, Tori turned toward Alex, her expression softening.
She reached out and rested a gentle hand on her friend’s shoulder, offering silent support with nothing more than a touch.
Alex didn’t speak, but the gratitude in her eyes said enough.
And so, the days unfolded—quiet, lonesome, heavy with everything left unsaid. And so, the days slipped by in quiet fragments of what could’ve been.
Will sat miles away, surrounded by polished wood and panoramic city views, but his gaze never left the window. Storyboards passed before him, ideas pitched, decisions made—yet none of it stirred him. Not when every page, every word, reminded him of the woman who made fiction feel real.
In the little town where their story had nearly begun, Alex moved through her days with a brave smile and a heavy heart.
She tossed a pink ball that never got chased, sat in silence with a dog who understood more than words ever could, and tried to organize books that only brought him closer instead of pushing him away.
Even the bookstore—her haven—felt lonelier with every passing hour.
Across city blocks and sleepy streets, two hearts beat out of rhythm, still tangled in the memory of laughter, almost-kisses, and promises whispered without words. They tried to return to normal, to let go. But love doesn’t let go that easily—not the kind that feels written in the stars.
The question was never whether they belonged to each other. It was whether they'd find their way back before the final chapter closed. Because if fate was real, surely she had one more twist waiting in the wings.
And if she didn’t? Then maybe fate was just a beautiful lie they both wanted to believe in.