Chapter Eighteen
Lucy: Hey, thank you for the pancakes. It was just what I needed. Hope I didn’t ruin your day yesterday.
Lucy: PS: Elle surprised me for the weekend and we’re having a cozy night in, so I won’t be by the restaurant.
Liam: Glad you’re feeling better. You could never ruin my day. Have fun with your friend. Talk tomorrow.
“Sounds kind of abrupt, don’t you think?” I ask Elle, showing her my phone.
“Only to someone overthinking the situation who may or may not have hinted at the fact that she has hard and heavy feelings for this man last night,” Elle says matter-of-factly.
I spend the rest of the night thinking about it, about Liam. Hours later, once we’re both settled on the couch with the television on, Elle turns to me.
“What if you actually got together with Liam? What would that look like?” Elle asks. It’s comforting to be sitting next to her again. As fun as it’s been to be on my own, being able to dance in my underwear or go to the bathroom without closing the door, I’ve missed my best friend.
“I don’t think I can let myself picture that right now. Not when there is a good chance I won’t see him again after next week,” I say, running my fingers through my hair. I pull a blanket over me and snuggle myself further into the couch. The last twenty-four hours have been draining. The last week has been draining—ever since my trip up the mountain with Liam, things have been tough. Thankfully my mother texted me soon after Elle got here to say she had landed and was on her way to see Josie, and she would call when she could.
“You’ve thought about it, though. Everyone thinks about it,” Elle prompts.
“Of course I have, but it feels like a dream.” I sigh. “I have to go back to my life in the city because that’s what’s real .”
“But Liam is real. Your feelings for him are real. What’s happened to you here, that’s also real. You’re doing yourself a disservice if you can’t admit that,” Elle says, placing her hand on top of mine.
“The truth is,” I start, but I can’t bring myself to finish the sentence. Why is it so hard for me to say it? Why can’t I just admit what I want?
“The truth is what? What do you want, Lucy?”
“Sometimes I really think you can read my mind,” I say, warily.
“I just know you,” she says with a comforting smile. “You think about everyone else and then alter your actions to fit what you think their reaction is going to be. You can’t go on like this.”
“You sound like Liam,” I mumble. Elle looks at me curiously. “He asked me what I would do if money or my parents didn’t matter, what was the first thing that came to mind.”
“And what did you say?”
“I said being an editor was my dream, and that dream was in the city.”
“And did you mean it?” she asks, widening her green eyes at me.
“Yes,” I reply, almost automatically.
“I feel like you’re saying that because you feel like you have to,” Elle says, turning her body to face me. “Don’t you feel like this trip has changed you?”
“I love it here,” I admit. “I’m… at peace here. In New York, I’m in a constant state of ‘ avoid that pile of garbage on the street, dodge that cab crossing 6th Avenue, try not to get too upset when I see dogs that have no grass to run around and play on ,’” I ramble. “But that doesn’t change the fact that publishing is my dream.”
Elle doesn’t have to say anything for me to know that she thinks it’s all bullshit. The expression on her face says it plainly. “I mean—it really is my dream. I’ve waited so long for it.” I throw my arms in the air, thrumming with frustration. “Why does no one believe that I know what I want?” Elle is taken aback by the tone in my voice. “I’m sorry, but first Liam and now you. I love my job. I will be so happy when I get the promotion. It’s what I’ve always wanted.”
“Just because it’s what you’ve always wanted doesn’t mean you can’t change your mind,” she says, her eyes wandering to the lake.
I follow her gaze. “ This won’t change my mind. I’m here to do a job, and next week, I’ll be back in the city. That’s it.” But even as I say it, I know my voice lacks conviction.
*
The next morning, Elle climbs into bed with me, her face bright and refreshed from a good night’s sleep. Mine, after hours of relentless tossing and turning, tells a very different story.
“Yes?” I croak, groggily.
“I’ve developed a plan,” she announces.
“Does it involve breakfast?” I mumble, rubbing my eyes.
“Yes, but after that, it is going to be Get Lucy on Track Day ,” she proclaims.
“Get Lucy what ?”
“Alright, I admit the name is a bit rough, but it’s the thought that counts,” she says, grinning.
I throw my hand over my eyes to block out the sun.
“And what does this entail?” I groan.
“Admitting that this trip has been more than just an emotional roller coaster for you,” she says confidently.
I mumble something unintelligible back at her.
“I’ve spent the morning snooping on your laptop,” she says without an ounce of shame.
“You’d make a terrible thief,” I grumble.
“Lucy, your notes for Ruby’s book are incredible. The scenes you wrote out? It’s basically like you’re writing the book yourself. Reading them made me realize that editing is not your calling. Writing is.” I scrunch my face at her. “I think this trip has shown you that you’re missing out on something important in your life.”
I toss the duvet and plant two firm feet on the ground.
“Where are you going?” Elle whines.
“I’m not talking about revitalizing my life until I’ve eaten something.”
“Be honest,” Elle says sternly. “If we asked Josie about this, what would she say?” She’s right behind me, following me into the kitchen.
“Oh, that is a low blow, Eloise !” I save that nickname for when I’m mad at her, because I know she hates it. I’m not actually mad at her for bringing up Josie, but I know that she knows that Josie would agree with her. And she’s using it to her advantage.
As if on cue, my phone rings.
“Oh my goodness!” I squeal, Josie’s face filling up my screen. “Ah, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!”
Her hair is pinned back off her face, which appears pale and gaunt. And her eyes, usually so full of life and color, are tired. Seeing her like this hurts my heart, but I’ve promised myself I’d maintain a brave face. My mom also comes into view, their two heads bobbing side by side, and the sight of the two them together, in her bright apartment, gives me a feeling of joy and calm.
“I’m sure my appearance at the moment is cause for sore eyes,” Josie teases, her voice deeper and raspier than usual.
“Oh stop,” I say, shaking my head.
“Is that Elle I can see?” my mom asks, turning the camera to face herself. “What’s she doing there?”
“Hey Mrs. B!” Elle offers an animated wave. “I came for a surprise weekend.”
“Hi Elle!” Mom beams. “That was so nice of you.” I pivot the screen back to toward my face.
“It’s so good to see you guys,” I say, my voice shaking. “What’s the plan from here?”
“We’re going to spend a few days getting packed and then we’ll be on a flight home on Friday,” she explains. “And no—” she holds up her finger in my aunt’s direction. “We will not be discussing this again, you’re coming home with me, end of discussion,” she says sternly.
I raise my brows at Josie. “You’re complaining about coming to see me?” I accuse.
“No,” Josie says grumpily. “I’m complaining about the ten thousand doctor appointments your mother has made.”
“How’s it going there, Luce?” Mom asks, choosing to ignore Josie.
“Yeah, tell us more about that quaint little town,” Josie adds.
“Well,” I start. I take a moment to cough while I try to read Elle’s face. She raises her eyebrow knowingly. “I’m making a lot of progress on my assignment,” I say, cringing at the sound of my own voice. It sounds so rehearsed.
“That’s good,” mom answers.
“Anne has been really happy with my notes. I’ve even started sketching out some scenes,” I explain, gaining a little enthusiasm in my voice.
“Have you forgotten all about the city yet, Luce?” Josie asks.
I shoot Josie a sharp look. “I’m not sure I’ll ever forget about it, Josie, seeing as I live there. But now that you’re coming home, we’re one step closer to having our garden together.”
“ Your garden?” my mother questions.
“Josie keeps trying to sell me on small town life. I told her I would only give in if she agreed to live with me,” I explain. My mother’s face is dubious. “It was hypothetical, Mom, relax.” She shakes her head.
“Anyway, what are you two up to today?” she asks.
“Just relaxing, really. Elle has to be back on the train in the morning.”
“Ah, well, enjoy yourself, and keep up the good work.”
When I put the phone down, I can’t help but feel a small bit of pride over the work I’ve done here. Maybe what I’ve accomplished could have some place in my new reality? The only question that remains is whether that new reality includes Liam, too.
*
Elle and I spend the afternoon exploring Catskill, losing ourselves in the town’s only indie bookstore. With our reader hats firmly in place, we gush over the romance section. We hunt down Heartwarming titles, and—like true insiders—subtly rearrange a few to claim prime spots at the front. It’s a quiet tradition among publishing folks. We all do it.
When we get back to the house and change, we find a few floats in the garage and bring them down to the lake. We spend the next few hours floating around the lake, our toes being bitten by little fish as we attempt to not float too far away from the dock.
I find serenity in the silence of the lake water and let my eyelids flutter closed. I try picturing what my life with Liam would look like. I imagine living in his house, with an office that overlooks the lake. There’s an antique wood desk that Elle would probably spot at a flea market, and I’d write for hours while admiring my favorite view. Maybe I could be a freelance editor for Heartwarming if my books do well. I mentally shake my head at myself. It’s one thing to dream about things like this, but it’s another for them to come true.
I just don’t have that kind of track record with the universe.
“Have you decided what you are going to do?” Elle asks, her voice soft and thoughtful.
“I don’t know,” I say, opening my eyes and turning to face her. “I really don’t know how, or where, to even start.” I’ve played the scenario out in my head. Maybe I will stop by Liam’s house when he gets home from the restaurant later today and tell him I have to talk to him. Maybe he won’t hear me out, or maybe he’ll be more understanding than I deserve. It’s all maybe, and I don’t like to deal with unpredictability.
“Start with the truth, that’s all you can do. Everything else will fall into place from there,” Elle says, infusing as much confidence in her voice as possible. She gives me a sheepish—although I think it’s meant to be encouraging—smile. “Remember, Lucy, we don’t get to choose love. We don’t get a say in the when, or the where, or even who. We don’t get to decide. Love finds us. And the only decision we get to make is what we do with it when it does.”