39. Chapter 39
Chapter 39
Lizzie
“You know, this one has always been my favorite of hers.”
Reaching into the giant bowl of popcorn parked between us, I snorted out a laugh. “No way. I mean, it’s good, don’t get me wrong… but Anyone But You is perfection.”
Brooke tossed a piece of popcorn at me. “Agree to disagree. Rome & Julia’s spicy scenes are far superior…”
“... yeah, exactly. I can barely handle seeing our Jules in sex scenes as it is, much less when they don’t leave a single detail to the imagination. I mean, do we really need to see her nipples eighty-seven times in ninety minutes?”
She shook her head as she turned back to the screen, giggling. “You’re such a prude sometimes.”
“If being uncomfortable with watching a woman who is basically our sister having hot Italian sex is wrong, I don’t wanna be right.” But I could barely get the words out before laughing myself.
God, I’d needed this. Room to breathe, to laugh. To just be for a couple of days.
Brooke and I had spent the last two afternoons and evenings together after she’d wrapped up her crazy workdays. I was so proud of my friend and everything she was accomplishing in her career—she was the most driven woman I knew, pretty much succeeding at, well, everything.
If I didn’t love her so much, I’d be mad jealous.
But that wasn’t me. It never had been. Sure, I was passionate, bright, determined—but I was also quiet, sensitive, emotional. A dreamer. And I had never belonged in that world.
I was a writer.
It’s kind of ironic, but I don’t think I’d felt truly confident enough to own that title until finding myself at Everett Publishing the day before, walking away from both the CEO and a possible publishing deal. I’d spent too many years being told that path was impractical and difficult—of feeling ashamed about what I loved to write about, from people whose opinions I believed were the 'right ones’. After a certain point, I’d had trouble discussing it at all. Even with those closest to me.
Talking about the things you loved out loud made them real. And when they’re real, it hurts far more when you inevitably lose them.
“Dreams are like wishes, Lizzie—both are impractical. And both have a way of fading away the moment you wake up to reality.”
Those words of my mother’s were always there, in the back of my mind. But I was done letting them mess with my head, or map out my entire life.
I would never be a serious literary fiction author. If that meeting had proven anything, it was to solidify what I’d already known for a long time. The words that had been itching for years to pour from my fingertips were the ones that had the power to make a reader laugh and cry—-and most of all, believe in love.
And if that meant people like Loretta Everett thought I didn’t have what it takes to be published under a large publishing house, then it wasn’t where I wanted to be. I only had to find the right publisher, who was looking for exactly what I had to offer. Or I’d just go ahead and publish the damned books myself.
Either way, I knew I could do it. Not only that, it felt right.
And I was done chasing things that weren’t meant for me—including insufferable douche canoes like Randall Price. (Though I had to admit—it felt so goddamn satisfying, seeing him scramble as his plan unraveled before his eyes yesterday. Now that was a scene I could rewatch—with a giant tub of popcorn—eighty-seven times in a row.)
No, there was only one man I was willing to risk my heart with—which was a good thing, since he already had it.
I’d already forgiven James for the words he’d said the last time I saw him. Time and space had taught me I wasn’t the only one who’d been hurt by the past that night. I just prayed he could forgive me, for leaving the way I had. Because I knew enough about James by now to realize what hurt him the most.
I wouldn’t be one more person who left and never came back.
Talking through everything with Brooke had helped the final pieces click into place, and I finally felt like I could see the situation for what it was. Learning about my grandmother’s biggest secret had been painful and shocking, the implications of it spreading far beyond what I ever could have imagined. I mean, I had an entire family I hadn’t even known about until this week.
But as much as it hurt having pieces of my story turn out to be actual fiction, I couldn’t blame James for the feelings the news had brought up in him, too. Considering what he and his family had already gone through, the idea of me having ties to a family that had caused him pain must’ve been hard to accept. Especially with the feelings it would inadvertently stir up about the wealthy father who had chosen money over his son.
Loss was complicated. We’d both lost many people we’d loved, and every bit of it had been hard. Some hurt more than others. As deeply as I missed my grandmother especially, I knew being left by choice had to hurt more than all the rest.
And if it was a decision between figuring out life solo or navigating the messiness of it all together, there was no question. I never wanted to be without him, because… I loved him. I could finally say the words, without feeling like they didn’t measure up to some vague romantic ideal—-or rather, like I didn’t measure up. All I wanted to do now was tell him how I felt, even if it also terrified me.
I just needed to get back home to Dearing Creek and find out if everything I wanted was still possible.
Brooke glanced over at me now. “So, have you texted James yet?”
Taking a sip from my wine glass, my eyes darted briefly to my phone, laying silent on the coffee table. “No.”
“Lizzie,” she said, sighing. “You can’t keep avoiding this forever. I’m sure he’s been worried. Your last message was so cryptic.”
“Yeah, well… I did need time to figure a few things out,” I said, shrugging. “But a text isn’t going to cut it. I need to see his face, talk to him in person.” Assuming he even wants to see me.
But I’d learned enough by now—sitting here, worrying over everything in my typical Lizzie fashion wasn’t going to solve a damn thing. I had to hope that once I made it home, I’d find a way.
Because if I couldn’t at least be brave enough to try, I didn’t deserve any of it.