34. Chapter 34
Chapter 34
Lizzie
“R andall? What the hell are you doing here?” I wiped my face with the back of my hand—I could only imagine how I must look.
Randall Price—silver fox professor, former philandering boyfriend—was sitting on my porch, very much out of place in the rustic, Northwoods Minnesota setting he’d found himself in. He looked just as he had the night I’d left him and altogether too good for someone who’d cut me down completely. It’s like he couldn’t even have the decency to age horribly—or grow a giant mole on his face, anything —over the course of the past several months.
Why the hell did I care, anyway? I hadn’t the energy to waste another second of my life on this man, much less care how either of us appeared to the other.
Probably didn’t matter much anyway, once you’ve hit bottom.
Because right now, that’s how it felt. I was on the verge of falling apart, of screaming and crying at the unfairness of every fucking thing that had just happened in the past thirty minutes—but no, instead I had to hold it together, waiting for this man from my past to explain why he’d shown up here in the first place.
Instead of answering my question, however, Randall stood up to embrace me. Taking a step backwards to dodge his outstretched arms, I saw him stiffen—but at least he didn’t try again. Crossing his arms over his chest, he smiled. “It’s good to see you again. I’ve missed you.”
“Really? I haven’t thought of you at all.” Ok, that was only partly true. Though most of my thoughts had volleyed between humiliation and karma-filled daydreams, I’d gotten to a point where I’d been able to mostly forget about my time with Randall. Which, of course, was thanks to everything I’d experienced with James.
But that was, you know, before . Now he was sitting in the cabin a hundred feet behind me, having told me flat out that he was unwilling to accept my new reality.
He was unwilling to accept me.
“Listen,” Randall continued on, ignoring the fact that I clearly didn’t want him there, “I was hoping we could talk, that’s all. Just fifteen minutes, and then I’ll be on my way. I promise.”
I should’ve said no. At that moment, I was barely hanging on to my emotions. But I was tired of fighting. Without saying a word, I walked past him to open the door, allowing him to follow me inside. In an instant, Bucky ran over, barking and sniffing all around him, with a nosedive straight to the crotch. Clearly, it made Randall uncomfortable, as I remembered his weird aversion to most animals in general.
In a moment where it seemed like I didn’t have anything to feel happy about, I couldn’t help but smile a tiny bit.
“Uh, nice dog . What’s his name?”
I just stood there, arms crossed. “Bucky.”
“Ah.” He glanced around the room, gesturing. “And your place is… quaint. Is this really where you’re living now?” Bucky released a low growl until I finally gave a small shake of my head.
Jesus Christ, did I look like I was in the mood for small talk? “How’d you even find me here, anyway?”
“You always talked about Dearing Creek… so I called a few places, asked around. Small towns, you know.” As Bucky wandered off towards his spot near the fireplace, Randall gave me a hard look, finally noticing my tear-streaked face. “You seem upset. Is something wrong?”
Yes, everything. Thanks for noticing.
Thinking about James and everything that had gone down within the last thirty minutes, I dug my fingernails into my palms, willing myself not to start crying again. The last thing I wanted my ex to believe was that I was crying over him. “Randall, just cut to the chase… why are you here?”
“Can we sit?”
“Fine,” I said, sighing. I wasn’t in any hurry to make anything more comfortable for him—but suddenly, I felt the energy drain from my body, as though I could scarcely keep myself upright. Motioning towards the kitchen table, we settled ourselves into chairs across from each other. I just wanted to get this over with so I could be alone. “What is so important that you had to drive all the way up here to Dearing Creek, Randall?”
“Well, I’ve been trying to reach you all summer. You’re a difficult woman to get a hold of.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I thought I made it clear that I had nothing more to say to you.”
“Yes, but I do. You deserve an apology… a rather large one. And I am deeply sorry, Elizabeth. You deserve far better than how I’ve treated you.”
I stared at him for a moment, not quite certain if I’d heard him correctly. The Randall Price I knew never apologized… ever.
“Anyway… I want to make things right. Over the past few months, I’ve been putting some feelers out there, and I’m now connected with an acquisitions manager at one of the top publishing houses in the Twin Cities. I still happened to have some of your writing samples on my hard drive, so I took the liberty of submitting them on your behalf. And after reading through them, along with the synopsis of that Great Depression novel you’ve been working on, Mark indicated he would be quite interested.”
“What do you mean, ‘interested’?”
“My understanding is that they want to bring you into the fold, to publish your book. With some editorial guidance, of course. So, we need to start looking for an agent!” He looked both smug and triumphant, like a king who’d just presented me with a spare set of keys to his kingdom.
It was a place I’d convinced myself I didn’t belong—both in Randall’s world and among the ranks of published authors. Inside, I was still that awkward, anxious girl with her nose in a book, prone to disaster, a head and heart full of doubt.
Could that girl ever belong there?
I’d thought I belonged here —at my grandparents’ cabin, in Dearing Creek, with James. It felt like my home, more than any other. Up here, I could breathe .
At least until the past several weeks, when the threads holding together the patchwork of my life had begun to loosen. Now, everything I’d been so certain of felt unfamiliar, distorted, barely held together.
Which left me here—struggling to make sense of my career as a writer, my belief in Grandma Cora unraveling, and now, tiny threads of doubt even weakening the certainty I thought I’d had with James.
“I… don’t quite know what to say.”
“What is there to say? This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Elizabeth. Say the word, and it’s yours.” He smiled, reaching across the table to rest a hand on mine. As I recoiled from his touch, his smile flickered only briefly before returning. “It’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?”
This is it, Lizzie… the dream.
I looked at him. “Why now, Randall?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why didn’t you ever offer to help me before this? You’ve never once told me you thought my writing was good enough to be published, never even encouraged me to try. Not once.”
He sighed. “Well, to be fair, I was initially concerned about your interest in those romance novels . But your other ideas, they’re good. And I do regret not telling you, or leveraging my connections, sooner.” He leaned in, eyes intense. “But I’m here now.”
I considered his words for a moment. “And exactly what are you hoping to get out of all of this? If I agree to consider it?”
Randall hesitated. “Well, I’ll be honest, Elizabeth. I’m hoping for a second chance, for us. But—” he held up a hand as I started to object, “—the offer stands, regardless of our relationship status. It’s yours… you’ve earned it.” He stood up, pushing in his chair. I could hear Bucky emit another low growl from over in the corner. “I need to head back, as I have an early lecture tomorrow. But our meeting with Mark is scheduled for nine a.m. on Tuesday. Here's the address.” He set a business card on the table. “I’m being included in this meeting mostly as a professional courtesy… but rest assured, it’s your meeting. Though I have a separate matter to discuss there as well.”
I picked up the business card, not saying a word as I watched him make his way to the door. Could this truly be happening? He paused to look back at me one last time, flashing a quick smile. “I hope you’ll consider my offer, Elizabeth. This could be an incredible next chapter. For both of us.”
Moments later, with the roar of an engine, he was gone—though not really, because he’d left plenty behind for me to unpack. I sat at that table for a long time, one foot in the past and the other in the future—with no idea of which steps to avoid in the present so I wouldn’t be hurt even more than I already had.
My mind drifted unwillingly to the past, to a time when I’d been so smitten with the suave professor who’d just walked out the door.
“You have a spark of talent in you, Elizabeth,” he’d always say to me, giving me a slow, sexy smile from over his glass of Pinot Noir. And I’d believed him then. Or at least, I’d desperately wanted to. He was, after all, the expert.
But maybe he’d only told me what I wanted to hear. Maybe, those words were really meant to serve his own purpose.
So I had no idea if meeting with this publisher was the right move. Would it really be a no-strings-attached offer, like Randall claimed? Could I believe in anything he said anymore?
I mean, there was no way I’d allow myself to end up back with him—it wasn’t even up for discussion. But what would it say about me, accepting a favor of this magnitude from someone who’d treated me as though I didn’t matter?
And then, there was the whole issue with the Great Depression story concept I’d abandoned. Could I stomach the idea of returning to it, even if doing so could make me a published author?
After finally surrendering myself to the idea of writing what I loved, going backwards felt almost like… defeat.
Though considering everything that had happened to challenge my beliefs about love in the past few weeks, I was beginning to wonder if writing romance novels was something I even had in me anymore.
But the most important questions nagging at me, however, weren’t focused on my career at all—they were all about the man I’d just walked away from. What would he think of me if he knew what I was considering? If I actually went for this, would the relationship I’d built with James still be here waiting for me? Could the rips between us still be repaired?
And if I didn’t take advantage of this opportunity to achieve my dream, would I later resent myself—and my relationship with James—for not even trying?
Standing up slowly, I crossed over to the sofa where I’d tossed my phone before following James to GiGi’s cabin. It felt like a century ago now, and all I wanted to do was sleep and cry, then sleep some more.
But first, I sent off three messages, the first to my brother—
LIZZIE: Yo, bro. I’m coming down to Minneapolis tomorrow afternoon. Do you have time (and free sofa space) for your favorite sister?
ETHAN: Mariah, good to hear from you. How’s the fam?
LIZZIE: I hate you.
ETHAN: Pretty sure you actually love me.
ETHAN: And… yes to both. Can’t wait to see you. Shoot me a text when you get here.