Chapter Nine
“You didn’t eat.”
Laramie had seen Stellan coming and had expected his voice as she squatted to retrieve her purse from the cubby hole under the register.
She stood and forced an empty smile. “I wasn’t hungry anymore.” She waved to Murph. “See you tomorrow.”
“See ya,” Murph said without taking his eyes off his computer.
She walked around the counter and aimed for the front door.
“Listen, about earlier—”
“It’s all good,” she said, cutting him off.
Stellan nodded and held open the door for her. “Okay good.”
“Have the night you deserve,” she said. Craig was outside getting into his truck, and she waved at him. “Oh, hey Craig?”
“Yo,” he said, turning.
“Thank you for the candy bar earlier. Murph said it was you who left it on the counter for me.”
“Figured you could use a pick-me up. You looked like a zombie the second half of the day.”
She uttered a surprised laugh. “Yeah, thanks.”
“See you tomorrow,” he told her and got into his rig, shutting the door.
She made her way to her own car. Stellan was trailing behind her. “I didn’t know you and Craig were so close,” he said sarcastically.
“Yeah, the benefit of breaking off a fucking-only relationship is that I could always talk to exactly who I want,” she said, leveling him with a look. “Goodbye, Stellan.”
Stellan stood back, looking uncertain. Good. Payback. She hit the gas and sped out of the parking lot.
She made it to the first stoplight before he texted. My brother is coming over tonight. Do you want to hang out with us?
I’m busy. Indefinitely. Good luck with your brother. Send.
It was a twenty-three-minute drive from that stoplight to the library she needed. Once parked, she grabbed the journal in her passenger’s seat, her purse, and the candy bar Craig had given her. Dinner of champions.
This week, it’s her.
How disposable was she?
Laramie clenched her fist and then pushed open the library doors and looked around. She pulled out the journal and flipped to the green tab she’d marked the right page with. She drifted around the library, looking for the right window, the right corner, the right bookshelves.
Probably they had been rearranged at some point, so it took her a while. The seating area wasn’t there anymore, but the window was just the same, and the view outside matched the sketch.
Because we fuck. That’s all it is.
Her parent’s love story had been so beautiful. What had she been thinking?
This couldn’t be her story.
She sank down against the wall and sat right where her parents had met all those years ago.
She read her mom’s journal entry describing the first time she saw Laramie’s dad.
Her eyes prickled as she read it for the thirtieth time.
She had nearly memorized this entire journal, but it didn’t matter.
There was still a feeling of connection when she read her mom’s words, in her mom’s pretty cursive writing.
She finished the last line. I’m calling it. I’m going to marry him.
Laramie clacked the book shut and stared out the window. The view looked vaguely familiar to the journal sketch, but so much had probably changed in all of those years. It had been so long ago since her parents had laid eyes on each other for the first time here.
She’d been saving this memory lane adventure for a special occasion—one where she really needed to feel her parents’ presence, and today, after everything, it felt right.
She closed her eyes and imagined them here, smiling shyly at each other.
They had no idea they were going to love each other so deeply.
That they were going to live life to the fullest every moment until her dad had died.
They didn’t know that her mom would worship him for the rest of her days, or that she would paint such a beautiful picture of him in Laramie’s head as she grew up without him.
Mom had never moved on. How could she? Her love for her father was perfect.
The entire reason Laramie had moved here was because of this journal she’d found after her mom had passed away last year. The old house had felt so empty before it had been sold, and she was chasing ghosts. She knew she was.
Laramie was okay with that.
She just wanted to feel close to her mother again.
She hugged the journal tight and then wiped her eyes and opened it, turned to the green tab page, and flipped the page over to expose the blank back side.
Mom always left the backs of the pages blank.
As a love letter to her mother, Laramie had been sketching the places she visited. The places her parents had been.
She pulled a pencil from her purse and began drawing the window.
And she felt less alone.