Chapter 18 Eli #2
My heart swells at his words. Rhianna had seemed off since I arrived—her smile tight, her usual effervescence dimmed, like she’s holding herself back.
But of course she’s nervous. According to Gavin, it’s been years since she’s brought anyone home.
This is a big step for her, probably bigger than I realized.
I can see the fear hiding behind her smile, the careful way she's moving around me tonight.
Letting me into her family, into this level of her life, is probably terrifying for her.
I understand—I've read enough of her story to know she guards her heart fiercely. I can wait until she’s ready.
My call to request teaching virtually for the upcoming semester was the right one.
I won't tell Rhianna yet—I won't push her.
She needs time, and I can give her that.
Some books are worth savoring slowly, page by page, and what we're building feels too precious to rush.
But before I can dwell on that thought or respond, Richard pulls another book down.
“Speaking of Rhianna, here’s her favorite of my collection.
Limited edition of 'Around the World in 90 Days.' She begged for this one when she was younger. Said it would be her planning guide for her own big adventure around the world. I can’t believe that’s coming up so soon. ”
He says it fondly if with a bit of wistfulness. The way parents do when they’re proud of their children’s dreams but wish those dreams didn’t take them so far away. I barely register his tone though, because my brain has snagged on one phrase: around the world.
My heart stutters, but I keep my voice casual.
“She’s talked about traveling, but I don’t think we’ve discussed the details.
” I’m amazed at my ability to speak with so much calm.
If I wasn’t living inside my head where I’m mentally screaming, I’d believe myself relaxed. “When is she thinking of going?”
“Oh, she’s saved for years.” Richard hands me another book.
High-quality leather, but second edition lacking any inscription.
The kind of copy a true collector would admire but not covet.
And I can’t believe my brain is able to even process this considering the continued internal screaming.
“Following her Grandma Ida’s dreams.” He sighs but smiles.
“My mother had a wanderer’s heart her whole life—picked Rhianna’s name, in fact.
Those two were like twin spirits from the moment Rhi was born.
Always planning adventures, mapping out far-off places they’d visit together someday.
” His voice softens. “And now with this fellowship acceptance—twenty-four libraries in six months! And she thinks with her savings she can extend the trip to a year. That’s my girl, doing it in true librarian style.
I can’t believe she’ll be gone in a couple of months. ”
The room tilts slightly. A year. And she's leaving in a couple of months. A fellowship she hasn’t even told me about. And if it’s anything like the ones through the university, she’s been working on this since we met or earlier. Planning it. Dreaming about it. Never discussing it with me.
While I’ve been imagining a future here… with her.
Everything crashes into place—her reluctance when I tried to talk about feelings at the beach, the way she deflects whenever I mention the future, her saying she had plans that inhibited her wanting anything serious. God, I've been such a fool.
I’ve been planning holidays that will never happen.
Imagining our mothers’ mingled laughter which will never exist. Standing in this study, surrounded by generations of Wilder family photos, dreaming about where our children’s pictures might hang one day—while she’s been counting down the days until she leaves. Until she leaves me.
I've already made the call to teach remotely next year, started looking at the long-term lease options for my apartment, even begun the paperwork to transfer my research grant to the Magnolia Cove archives—all to build a life around a woman who never planned to stay.
This is exactly what happens when you abandon logic for feelings.
When you throw away carefully crafted plans for the wild beat of your heart.
I’ve spent my entire life making calculated decisions, weighing every option, considering every outcome.
Then Rhianna Wilder walks into my life with her bright smiles and quirky book pins and strong opinions, and suddenly I’m restructuring my life around a woman who never saw anything serious with me.
Who probably hasn’t thought twice about who she’s leaving behind, because I was never meant to be anything but temporary.
When we rejoin the others, I see her differently. Her laughter sounds lighter because it is lighter—unburdened by the weight of attachment I've been feeling. Every smile, every touch, every moment we've shared... was I the only one building castles in the air?
"Walk you out?" Rhianna asks later, already moving toward the door. Her voice holds that same warmth it always does, but now I hear what's missing—any hint of reluctance to see me go, any suggestion that this evening meant as much to her as it did to me.
On the porch, the salt air that usually invigorates me now stings. The stars that usually promise possibility now mock my naivety. She rocks back on her heels, hands tucked into the pockets of her dress—a gesture I once found endearing but now recognize as an action that creates distance.
"Thanks for coming," she says, and I search her face for any sign that she means more than just tonight. Any hint that she’s about to bring up the conversation we said we’d have.
That I’m not the only one holding space for it.
Her eyes don’t even meet mine as she speaks. "My family really liked you."
"They're wonderful," I manage. They could have been mine too, I think, but push the thought away. "I can see why you love them so much."
She steps forward for a quick hug. Her arms brush mine, light and brief, like the memory of touch rather than the thing itself.
It’s the kind of hug you give an acquaintance, not someone you've kissed beneath meteor showers and woken up bare and warm and wrapped in their arms—and I breathe in the scent of her shampoo.
"Night, Eli," she murmurs, already pulling away.
I wait for a word, a pause, a glance that might signal she’s about to say more.
That she hasn’t forgotten. But nothing comes.
And by the time I realize this is it—that she’s not going to start the conversation—we’ve already passed the moment.
I open my mouth, but the words catch behind my teeth, tangled in the shock of it.
She’s gone before I can untangle even one.
“Night, Rhianna,” I whisper to the empty porch as I watch her disappear inside, taking all my dreams of forever with her.
Standing alone outside, surrounded by the gentle glow of Magnolia Cove's evening lights, I realize two things: I need to have an honest conversation with her, even if it breaks both our hearts, and maybe leaving Misty Pines was a mistake after all.
When I'd planned my three bold moves to shake up my life, I’d imagined transformation—not heartbreak written in ink I can’t erase.