Chapter 57 Glitter, Fries, and Forever
GLITTER, FRIES, AND FOREVER
RORIE
The scent of cinnamon, coffee and old books wraps around me as my second skin. It’s a slow afternoon, sun slanting through the windows, a lazy day where time feels thick and syrupy.
Once I finish wiping down the front counter, I move to the display of journals near the front window and start adjusting those.
Basically, I’m trying to keep myself busy. My mind is on overdrive today and there’s this uneasiness swirling inside me for some reason.
I can’t put my finger on why.
My phone buzzes against the counter. I snatch it up.
A wrong number? The memory of the last one hits hard at first, then slow, like something sacred slipping in through the cracks.
Because that one turned into the most unexpected, electric, heart-wrecking connection of my life. An accident that felt like fate. And I still don’t know if I survived it…or if part of me is still waiting on the next message.
I swipe it open.
What’s the worst life choice you’ve ever made?
Asking for a friend.
The memory sneaks in—uninvited but stubborn—the way Carl once said that same latter phrase to me is eerily similar. Back when he was still a faceless number, a mistake I thought I could laugh about.
Nostalgia is a dangerous drug so I reply, because why not?
Letting a stranger drag me into a text war before coffee. Bold move.
Bold? Or fate?
Mmm. Sounds like the opening line of a bad rom com movie.
The bell above the door jingles.
“Welcome to North and Anchor!” I call out automatically, eyes still glued to my phone. “Let me know if you need anything.”
A beat of silence.
What about you?
What’s the worst life choice you’ve ever made?
“Stealing your story before you even knew it was gone,” that familiar, maddening voice slides down my spine.
My head slowly, slowly looks up. And I promptly lose all capacity for logical thought.
Standing in my shop, wearing the most ridiculous shirt, and holding a basket of fries, is Nolan “What the Fuck” Rhodes, dimple and all.
I blink. Once. Twice. Because surely I’m hallucinating.
But no. He’s real.
The shirt reads, in bold, sparkling letters:
If Lost, Return to the
Nearest Book Babe
There are actual flecks of glitter clinging to the fabric, catching the light like tiny weapons of mass distraction.
My body wants to bolt, my heart wants to collapse, and my soul is clawing its way to the surface screaming go to him.
But my feet are rooted to the ground.
Nolan stays where he is, respectful. Careful. Letting me make the first move.
Finally, somehow, I find my voice. “Subtle entrance,” I say hoarsely.
His smile tugs wider. “Had to live up to my reputation.”
“And what reputation is that exactly?”
He takes a slow, tentative step closer. “Persistent dumbass. Professional fry thief. Guy who once said the wrong thing, did the wrong thing, but never—not once—stopped wishing he could make it right.”
The whole world fades out.
It’s just him. And me. And the invisible earthquake under my skin, shaking loose every piece I tried so hard to glue together after I left.
“You broke me,” I whisper. It rips out, sharp and unfiltered, before I can stop it.
Nolan’s throat works as he swallows. He doesn’t look away. Doesn’t pretend. He takes the weight of it.
“I know,” he rasps, the words tearing out of him. “And there hasn’t been a single day since that I haven’t felt it—knowing that when you were handing me your heart, I was holding a loaded gun behind my back.”
Tears prick my eyes, but I blink them away. I’m so tired of crying over him.
“Rorie,” he steps forward and continues, “I know what was up on that screen.”
“No, you don’t. That was my life.” I point to my chest.
“Yes, it was. Every grief you’ve survived, every dream you’ve buried, every piece you should’ve been allowed to guard, and I ripped it from you without a second thought. I didn’t just break your trust. I broke the version of you that believed you could ever trust someone like me.”
Swiping the tears away, I cross my arms over my chest, protectively.
Nolan takes another step closer but I step back.
He halts, exhales then sets the basket of fries carefully on the counter. His arms drop to his sides.
“North is your heart.” His voice roughens even more. “You are my North. And my anchor. And I lost you because at one point, I treated you like a finish line instead of a fucking miracle.”
My hands shake. God, I want to believe him. I want to tear the walls down, and run straight into him, but the part of me that remembers that day—the betrayal, the humiliation—bites back hard.
“You should’ve been safe with me, you should’ve been sacred.
And I lost you—the one thing in this life worth fighting for.
But I will fight, Rorie. For every secret I should have protected.
For every piece of you that still thinks love means betrayal.
I’ll rip down every wall you build, and if you let me, I’ll build something better from the wreckage I left behind. However long it takes.”
“You can’t just show up with glitter and fries and expect everything to be fine,” I say, my voice trembling.
Suddenly, he drops to his knees, pleading. Right there. In the middle of my damn bookstore, wearing a shirt that looks like it was bedazzled by a drunk cupid. He’s there, with nothing to offer except him—raw, imperfect, real.
“I don’t want fine,” his tone is steady even as emotion thickens it. “I want messy. And complicated. And honest. I want late-night texts and stolen fries and grilled cheese with tomato soup. And stars.” Shaky now. “And you. I want you.”
My heart shatters and remakes itself all at once.
One deep breath. Then another.
Crossing the space between us, I crouch too. We’re eye to eye, chests heaving. His hand shakes when it lifts to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.
I grab his wrist. Hold it there.
“You really think glitter and carbs are enough to fix this?” I whisper, a smile trembling at the edge of my mouth.
Nolan’s lips curve—hopeful, wild, his. “No. But it’s a start.”
His grin is devastating. The kind that once made me want to punch him and kiss him in the same breath.
He points to the fries and says, “Truce?”
A beat of silence.
And then—fuck it all—I pull him into a kiss so fierce, so desperate, that the whole universe tilts sideways.
The bell above the door rings again as the wind rushes in.
But we stay right there.
Home.
Exactly where we were always meant to be.