Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Hallie
I t’s two days out from Vegas and ten days out from the wedding, with time in general speeding by way too quickly. Four weeks had felt like forever when I’d originally planned my trip—that no longer feels like the case.
Marcus and I’d spent the morning taking my final haul of items away to a local thrift store, leaving me exhausted and splayed out on his couch while he headed off to his office. But a call from Gwen at the real estate agency, letting me know there were two very interested parties in my property, has me on my feet and moving, full of restless energy.
An hour later, the smell of cinnamon buns welcomes me intoFirst it’s that I hoped I wouldn’t want to. I hoped to be happy, content, and fulfilled with whatever home I built for myself so the past would stop trying to pull me back.
Erica’s thoughtful. “I know everyone has a different interpretation of what home means to them, of what it looks like and feels like, be it a place or people. I just want you to remember you don’t need to live at home. Sometimes it can be enough to know where it is—to simply visit and let yourself rest in the place your heart resides for a little while. If you’re not ready to make any big decisions, you don’t need to. Sell the house, don’t sell it, stay or leave—you’re allowed to change your mind.”
I swallow, easing the burning in my throat her words have caused. “Since when did you get so wise?”
“To be honest? When I started to stand still. If you’re not ready to be still yet, to pull up roots, or to pick a new place to put roots down, it’s okay. There’ll always be a home for you here.”
“I…thank you,” I scrape out. The coffee shop and the other customers around us, have all blurred into the background while we spoke.
“You still want something that’s yours, though, don’t you?” she asks.
“I really do.”
“Well, I don’t know what you’re looking for me to tell you, but the fact you’ve made your way back here is one thing; the enjoyment you’re finding with Marcus is another. Shoot your shot, Hal. What’s the worst that can happen? If it’s fun for now, so be it, and if it’s more? Well, that’s cool, too. Don’t let fear rule you.”
As Erica gives me a kiss on the cheek before heading back to work, I can’t help but wonder if she’s right. Because the rush to make all my decisions now , that’s self-inflicted. That’s fear.
I’ll shoot my shot. I’ll go for what I want, for better or worse.
Taking my phone from my handbag, I dial the realtor’s number, and before I can think any more about it, I agree to accept the highest offer.
The slightest of trembles makes its way into my hands as I reach for peonies at a local florist. The open front at Posey’s means it’s bright and full of fresh air, making it easy to concentrate on long breaths as I will steadiness into my limbs, for calmness to course through me. The breathing helps, but my fingers still shake; they’d been doing so on and off since I’d ended the call with Gwen.
My decision was made. It’d been that simple, and the guilt is eating me alive. It’s what had me here in the first place, picking out an arrangement of pink flowers, readying myself for a visit I should’ve made as soon as I’d arrived back in town.
It’s also likely why I only notice the text notification on my phone’s screen as I go to pay. I wait for the woman serving me to start working on the arrangement before I open it.
Marcus: What are you doing?
I could leave the message unanswered, could continue on with my afternoon alone as planned, letting my latest life choice sink in.
But I don’t.
Instead, I reach for the lightness I know he can make me feel.
Hallie: Not you.
Marcus: Obviously. If you were doing me, your hands would be otherwise occupied.
Hallie:
Marcus: Really. What are you up to?
When I go to reply this time, my hands are steady.
Hallie: Picking up flowers.
Marcus: Well, that’s sweet of you. I’ve never had a woman buy me flowers before.
I smile to myself, wondering what his face would look like if I bought him a bunch of flowers. Probably terrified and wholly unsure of what to do with them.
Hallie: Smart ass. I’m going to visit Gran’s grave.
I keep my phone in hand as I make my way back to my car, flowers now clutched in the other. I’m not sure what I expected to get in response, but when his reply comes through, I pause on the pavement. The sun’s out in force, warm on my shoulders, and with enough of a glare that my sunglasses aren’t cutting it for me to clearly see the screen. I have to shade it with my hand to make sure I’ve understood him correctly.
Marcus: Want some company?
I could be a smart-ass and ask which of his apprentices he plans on sending, but instead, I check the time. And then I send through my reply, taking my second risk of the day.
Hallie: 3 p.m. work for you?
Marcus: I’ll see you there.
In all honesty, I hadn’t thought it through the drive to the cemetery. Different year, different day, different car, same me. The same me that’d once driven to this cemetery in the hope of seeing Marcus, believing I’d had his love and support. That on a difficult day, he’d be there for me.
Today’s different. I know I might not have his love, but after the last few weeks, I hope I have his support. That he’ll keep his word and be here. But the old worries still plague me.
That he won’t show.
That everything I’ve let myself do and feel and be with him means nothing.
That I’ve been mistaken again.
It doesn’t help that I’m the first to arrive, my palms damp on the steering wheel as I turn into the driveway a few minutes early. The chapel’s been done up a little since I was last here; most notably, the parking lot’s been cemented, no longer a simple gravel lot. But it’s still very much empty. Where the last time I had Jules waiting for me, this time, I’m set to wait alone. Nothing but me and the budding trust that’s been building between Marcus and myself. A budding trust I’m trying so very hard not to doubt.
I remind myself I’m mostly a mess over approving the sale of Gran’s house, and my insecurities are my own. That since arriving here, Marcus hasn’t given me a single reason to doubt him.
I check my emails and reply to a few texts from Cade, pictures of a sad-looking Loki lying on the mat outside my apartment door. My heart squeezes, knowing I have a call to make there too.
It’d come to me when I’d spoken with Erica earlier. While I wanted something that was mine, I didn’t have to make every decision right now. The money I’d get from the sale would give me the ability to take my time. I didn’t have to be stubborn and stick to the plan I’d laid out for myself months ago; I could relinquish a tiny bit of control. It’d mean not buying my apartment in Edinburgh straightaway, potentially even mean giving it up altogether, letting another place I’d called home go.
It was a terrifying thought, but unlike leaving, it didn’t feel wrong. Marcus and I might’ve agreed to live in the present right now, but once the wedding was done…I wasn’t against the idea of asking if I could stay in his pool house a little longer.
If he’d have me there.
If he’d want me there.
Things would be different between us. The deal we’d struck would be over, but a clean slate was no bad thing.
Except when I look at the time again, it reads 2:58 p.m. Not a big deal in the grand scheme of things, but it doesn’t stop anxious butterflies from taking flight in my stomach.
Opening our text chat with sweating palms, I flick through our recent conversations—the snarky, the silly, and the unbelievably sexy. It gives me the tiniest shred of confidence I need to type out a message to him similar to the one I sent all those years ago. Because at the end of the day, regardless of what happens next, I still care about the exact same thing.
Hallie: You okay?
I leave it sitting on the screen, unsent. He isn’t late, not yet.
Chances are he won’t be.
3:00 p.m. hits, and every instinct inside of me is on edge, my fight or flight on high alert. Devastation feels like too strong a word to use, but the bitter feeling in my chest is real.
He’s not here.
I don’t send the text I wrote out, but I don’t wait around either.
I make myself move, collecting my bag and flowers, rethinking my every decision up until this point.
It’s the sound of another vehicle entering the parking lot that catches my attention, the low hum of an engine, the friction grind of tires on cement. The sight of Marcus behind the wheel instantly puts my spiraling anxiety at ease.
Stepping out of my own car, I wait for him, hearing through his closed windows as he ends a work call over Bluetooth. My relief at his presence is palpable—I feel it in the way every muscle in my body has softened since his arrival. And then, looking crisp in a white button-down, he’s out on the pavement beside me, truck beeping closed behind him.
“Didn’t mean to cut it so close to the line, but I had to pick up these,” he explains, lifting a bouquet of soft pink roses.
“They’re perfect.” It’s the only thing I can think to say as he walks alongside me.
And I decide to let it go.
To let go of the distrust I’ve been holding against him without due cause.
Because after everything, he’s here, exactly where he said he’d be.