26. Chapter 26
Chapter 26
Lizzie
KAIT: Karaoke starts at seven p.m how many seats should I save?
JULES: Running to rehearsal but PLEASE promise me you’ll record everything!
INDI: You know I’m in. Callum is hanging with his friends tonight, so mama bird’s flying solo.
LENA: Ugh, I can’t… I have to set up centerpiece arrangements for a rehearsal dinner because Bridget bailed on me again tonight. Sorry!
TESSA: I’m out too, ladies… Carlos is dragging me to some Mayo fundraiser. Besides, you know I won’t sing in public anymore.
LIZZIE: Booo to Bridget and Carlos… though I seem to recall a stunning rendition of the Grease medley last year at the Beav.
TESSA: We don’t speak of that night.
LIZZIE: lol. Anyway, I’ll be there. And I’m bringing James. Is that cool?
KAIT: No. No boys allowed.
INDI: Kait…
KAIT: I kid, I kid. I love James. Plus, I hear he does a mean Bon Jovi. Tell him to bring the guys. But you have to sing your song, or no free drinkies this time.
LIZZIE: I’ll think about it.
brOOKE: #jealous #sadinthecity
The next several weeks passed by in a blur, like summer was moving in double-time.
All around me, the final stages of my cabin renovation were starting to take shape, and I was amazed at how perfectly James and Jesse were making it all come together. It still felt like my grandparents’ place: warm and homey, but modernized. The freshly painted walls and refinished hardwood floors gleamed in a way they never had before—and the guest bathroom had gone from its odd shade of yellow to a clean, crisp white and gray. The master bathroom was also nearing completion, and it was so bright and lovely, I could hardly stand it.
And my revamped kitchen now had an island— an island!
The furniture and appliances I’d ordered weeks ago had also started to arrive, and I’d slowly been adding my boho touches around the place. Just a few more weeks and all the work would be done. Looking around at what we’d accomplished so far, I knew Grandma Cora would approve.
Of course, like any home renovation, we’d hit a couple of bumps along the way. One of my brand-new windows ended up cracked by the refrigerator delivery man, so that had to be replaced. And even though Jesse had replaced portions of the plumbing at the start, a slow leak resulted in extra pipe replacements and, of course, more money spent.
Not that I was worried, of course. I knew how lucky I was to have that inheritance—and even though I’d hardly had to use any of it, the security of knowing it was there had changed everything for me. Including giving me time and space to recalibrate and figure things out with my writing—without the stress of a paycheck.
But I was starting to feel—I don’t know— guilty that I hadn’t told James about all of it. It’s not that I was ashamed. But part of me wondered—would he see me differently if he knew about the money?
He’d never once questioned how I was supporting myself all these months while I wasn’t working. Of course, I know I didn’t owe him an explanation. But if we were going to be together, I didn’t want there to be any secrets between us, especially this one. I wanted him to know I trusted him to know everything .
Because things with us had been going unbelievably well. By now, James and I were spending time together several evenings a week, neither of us wanting to be gone too long from the other. We’d gone out for dinners, made further attempts at tandem kayaking (which thankfully, I hadn’t tanked… yet) , took Bucky for long walks off in the woods past the cabin, and hung out with GiGi on her porch for drinks.
It was still that easy way between us, relaxed, comfortable, uninhibited, and fun—yet always with the crackling electricity that had only managed to amp up even more as the weeks passed. Plenty of kissing, holding, touching, snuggling together on the sofa—and wanting to do more, though we hadn’t yet.
And as much as it was driving me crazy to wait—and how badly I really, really wanted to have sex with James—I kind of loved that we were taking it slow. No guy I’d ever dated before had been like that. But then, I probably hadn’t felt comfortable enough with myself around any of them for it to have had a chance to be like this.
James made it easy, though. And instead of sending me into an anxious spiral, wondering if the reason we hadn’t slept together yet was due to something inherently unsexy or wrong with me—like it normally would—I actually felt the opposite. Just from the way he looked at me, I knew James had to feel what I did.
But that physical pace between me and James wasn’t the whole of it. Over the weeks, I’d been feeling a gradual shift between us as we inched closer to the end of our professional relationship. There was a depth and intentionality in our words and the way that we kissed—serious and caring, passionate and playful, all rolled into one. I almost couldn’t believe it was real. Almost.
It was the first time with any man that I wasn’t second-guessing myself in the relationship all the time, wondering if he cared about me, if I was too awkward, too much —or if everything I had to offer was enough. Because James was starting to make me believe that I was .
Somehow along the way, it was clear we’d begun growing into something greater than either of us had expected—especially for two people who were afraid of being hurt or screwing things up.
We were actually succeeding at being braver together.
Was it ridiculous to only know someone for three months and be feeling like this? I had no idea. No relationship I’d had before had come anywhere close—not even the three years I’d wasted with Randall, whose calls I still refused to answer, despite his persistence.
But for some reason, my mother’s voice had been popping into my head again lately:
‘Slow down, Lizzie, you’re letting yourself get carried away again.’
How strange that it was her voice I was hearing—considering I’d never in a million years have considered asking my mother for relationship advice.
It had always felt complicated between the two of us, never easy. I mean, I knew she’d loved me in her own way. I just happened to also be the one who most resembled her mother, in both personality and appearance—a visible reminder of another relationship she’d struggled with, for reasons unknown.
Mom was much more like Grandpa Walter—sensible, grounded. My grandmother, on the other hand, sought the light, magic and romance in living a life full of wonder and possibility, trusting love above all else. Yet, even for being such opposites, the two of them balanced each other perfectly—a pair destined to be together. That’s why it was the benchmark for love I’d always held for myself.
And I couldn’t help but see them within James and myself. But was it too soon?
“Hey, Red… you’re so quiet. Are you falling asleep on me?”
I craned my head back to catch James’ sexy smile from where he lay behind me on the sofa, holding me in his arms.
“Nope, I never fall asleep while watching one of Jules’ movies. It’s part of our girl code.”
“ That’s part of your girl code?”
“Well, it’s really more of a bylaw. But I know it’s in there somewhere.”
“Noted.” Smirking, he shook his head. “Just for the record… and I might regret telling you this… I’m not hating this movie.”
I raised an eyebrow. “James Tate, are you telling me I’ve actually managed to convert you?”
“Maybe there’s hope for this grump yet.” He tossed a few kernels of popcorn at my face—one of which I caught in my mouth with a victorious grin as he chuckled, pulling me in closer to his chest. “Can’t seem to help myself. What can I say, you do something to me, woman.”
Giggling as he nuzzled my neck with a playful growl, it was hard not to believe I’d ever be happier than I was right now, with him. Like this.
I mean, yeah, maybe my mother would’ve been right and I was letting myself get carried away. But, somehow, I didn’t think so. Not this time.
****
I was thumbing through the letters in my lap, gazing out across the lawn as I heard a door open. It was late Thursday afternoon, and the guys had already wrapped up work for the day. James would be back to pick me up in an hour for karaoke night at the Thirsty Beaver, but I was taking some time to myself now, out on the porch.
Bucky was curled up on the chair next to me, keeping me company. For some reason, he’d taken to sitting there rather than on the porch itself, like he thought himself human or something.
Such a weirdo… but then, so was I.
That day at the animal shelter, I’d known he was the one for me the second I saw him. And like any of us, he deserved someone who would love him for who he was—with all of his imperfections.
Reaching out to scratch his ears, I glanced back down at the letter I held in my hand. I’d finally allowed myself to read the last letter in the bundle that morning and had spent much of the day re-reading my grandfather’s words—something about it was eating at me, though I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what: March 29th, 1967 “My Dear, I’m sitting with you on the sofa at the cabin tonight, tired from tidying up the yard after the spring thaw. The fireplace is crackling near us, and you’ve fallen asleep beside me, legs spread across my lap. And it struck me - you have never looked more beautiful. Pregnancy suits you. Even though I grumbled about it, I’m glad you convinced me to drive up here for the weekend, just the two of us. I know it’ll be a long while until it is ever ‘just the two of us’ again. But I cannot wait until our child is born and we can show him this place that we love. To teach him that even when life takes an unexpected turn, love can still win in the end—if you have the will to fight for it. For my part, your love has reawakened me and reminded me of all that I have… and all I could’ve lost. I’ll never make that mistake again. I love you, my darling. Forever. With love, Yours, Walter”
I mean, it was a beautiful sentiment. And reading these letters had been helping me to envision my grandfather as more of a romantic than I’d ever thought him to be, despite his happy marriage.
But this letter was different from the others. Maybe it was because my mother was due to be born just a few weeks later—which I’m sure came as a surprise, as clearly Grandpa Walter had been expecting a son.
I felt like it was more than that, though. His words about ‘unexpected turns’ or what he’d ‘almost lost’ —they were pulling a bit at the foundation of what I thought their marriage, their love , was.
Perfect.
So when I heard the door open and saw GiGi come walking out, I decided to wander over. I’d been grilling her a bit off and on over the last several weeks about her friendship with my grandmother, and it had been amazing to get tiny glimpses of her as a much younger woman—ever social, up for shenanigans, and a steadfast friend. I’d learned she had been a coffee addict in her earlier days, just like me—and even back then had eagerly devoured stacks of romance novels. GiGi called her a ‘hopeless romantic’ , and I realized how true it was.
And it was exactly what was inspiring me to start writing again. Because I’d decided to finally give in to what felt true to me and write a romance novel—this one based on my grandparents’ love story.
But first, I needed to make sure I was telling the right story.
I tucked the letters back into my book bag, slinging it over my shoulder before heading out across the lawn, Bucky at my heels. For some reason, I hadn’t told anyone but James about the letters yet. They were precious, and I just hadn’t wanted to share those words with anyone else. Not even my friends, which was a first.
But maybe it was finally time to tell my grandmother’s best friend, in the hopes that she could give me some clarity.
“Hey, GiGi… whatcha up to?”
She lifted her head from where she sat in her chair, smiling at me as she set down her crossword puzzle book. “Oh, not much, just gettin’ my words done for the day. How are yours going?”
I made a face. “You mean my writing? Still on a break… but I think I might be ready to start up again soon.”
“That’s wonderful, dear.” She glanced past my shoulder. “James already take off for home?”
“Yeah, a while ago… but he’s picking me up later for karaoke at the Thirsty Beaver. We’re meeting a few of my friends.”
“Then I’ll alert the townspeople that the Dearie Girls will be out in full force tonight,” GiGi chuckled. “Can’t believe you talked James into karaoke, though.”
I grinned. “Actually, it was his idea. Well, sort of. I’m pretty sure Kait somehow got to him first. I was bragging the other day about being amazing at it, which I’m definitely regretting.”
She shook her head, eyes twinkling. “Don’t let him embarrass you. And make sure you pull him up there for a song or two. He actually has a pretty decent singing voice, which he certainly didn’t get from me.” She paused, her smile now thoughtful. “You two have seemed pretty happy lately. Things still going well, I take it?”
I felt my face flush. “Really well. Or at least, I think they are?”
“This would make Cora so happy, you know, seeing the two of you together. We always joked that we’d make it happen someday. Just never thought I could convince that boy to get out of his own way.”
I smiled, thinking of my grandmother plotting out my romantic future. Somehow, the idea of it didn’t surprise me. “Well, James is… pretty amazing.”
“Ah, yes. He is. And I love him to death.” She leaned in closer. “But he can also be a complete pain in the ass sometimes, so don’t let him get away with too much.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t.” I laughed, taking the seat next to her. “Say, I wanted to show you something I found in the cabin.”
“Oh, yes? What’s that, dear?”
“Well, James found this weird little painting in the master bedroom, which turned out to be a door… to a hidden safe.” Opening my tote bag, I pulled out the letter, handing it to her. “And inside, there were all these letters.”
GiGi’s smile—and the color from her face—faded. She took the letter from my hand, scanning the page before her eyes darted up to me, then back to the page again. “This says it’s from Walter.”
“Right… I think they were love letters to Grandma Cora, before my mom was born.”
She looked up from the letter, her eyes almost… haunted. “How’d you get the key?”
“To the safe?” Ok, now my Spidey-senses were tingling… along with my hands. “My grandma had it hidden in one of the books she left to me. Why?”
“And were there any… other letters?”
I looked at her. “There was a second bundle, yes… but I haven’t opened those yet. I’ve been trying to spread them out.”
“Ok, good… maybe it’s best to leave those, then.”
“What… and not read them?” My eyes were wide now. “Why shouldn’t I read them, GiGi?”
She shrugged, trying to sound casual—but I noticed her body was still tense. Something was definitely up. “No reason. I just thought Cora and Walter would have wanted at least a small part of their love story to remain private.” Flashing me a smile that seemed more forced than genuine, she handed back the letter as she stood up from her chair. “Hope you don’t mind, but it’s time for my bath… and I’m sure you’ll be needing to get ready for your date…”
“Yes, but…”
“G’night, dear.” She disappeared into her cabin, the screen door slamming shut and punctuating her departure as I sat there, bewildered over the entire conversation—which hadn’t at all gone the way I thought it would. And I hadn’t even had a chance to ask her if she knew what Grandpa Walter might have been referring to in that last letter.
But the even bigger question now was— Why the hell did GiGi not want me to read the rest of them?