Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Maybe it was just these damn strings. Maybe it was just that we’d had such a good time together and now it was over. Maybe this hole opening up in my chest was just sadness that we had to say goodbye—a perfect reminder of why I didn’t enjoy feelings related to loss. Missing someone was the fucking worst.
At least I’d have this emotion to dig for if ever I needed to convey the heartbreak of leaving someone I cared about behind.
Because I had to leave. That wasn’t a question. Everything I wanted, the life I’d always dreamed about, was out in L.A. I’d worked my ass off, and I was only halfway there. I was only twenty-seven. I couldn’t give up now, not when such huge opportunity was on the horizon. But for one insane moment, I thought about running in there and begging her to come with me—leave her family and Moe’s Diner and this town behind, and just make a new life for herself out in Hollywood.
No, that was wrong. Not only would she think I was insane to suggest something so drastic, but her life and dreams were here—she wanted to take over Moe’s and make it her own. She owned a house she loved. She’d told me that night we’d sat out on the dock that she wanted to stay in Cherry Tree Harbor, that she was a small-town girl at heart. I couldn’t ask her to uproot herself and throw all that away for me.
But standing there with rain dripping off my hair, watching her turn and look at me like she’d known I was there, I honestly wished I could.
She rushed to the door, unlocked it and pulled it open. “Oh my God, come in. How long have you been out there? I’m so sorry, I didn’t hear you knock. I had the jukebox on.”
“I hadn’t knocked yet.” I ran a hand through my hair, sending water droplets spraying. “But now I’m getting your floor all wet.”
“I don’t care about that.” She looked up at me, and I saw her red, swollen eyes.
My arms came around her immediately. “What’s wrong? Is it your dad?”
“No, he’s a little better, actually. I’m just emotional, I guess. I can’t seem to stop crying.” Tucking her head beneath my chin, she wrapped her arms around my waist. “It’s been a long day.”
“I know. What can I do to help? And don’t say nothing, because I’m already here and I’m yours for the rest of the night. I said goodbye to everyone else already.”
“You did?” She sounded surprised.
“Yes.” I loosened my hold on her slightly and leaned back at the waist, tipping up her chin. Her eyes were puffy, and her nose was red, and her cheeks were wet with tears, but she was still so beautiful it hurt. “There’s no one else I’d rather be with.”
A new song came on the jukebox, and I recognized the opening lines. “Now I've had the time of my life . . .” I cocked my head. “Hey. Is this the song from the movie?”
She smiled sheepishly. “Yeah. I know it’s goofy, but it’s one of my good mood songs. And I needed a lift.”
I bent down and grabbed her around the thighs, and when I straightened up, she rose into the air.
“Hey!” Laughing, she thumped my shoulders. “It was just a metaphor! I didn’t mean an actual lift, I meant a mood lift!”
“It worked, didn’t it?”
She grinned down at me. “I guess it did.”
Loosening my grip, I let her slide down my body until her feet touched the floor. “Feel better?”
“Yes.”
I kissed her. “Good. Now let’s get this place closed so I can take you home for some horizontal mambo.”
Back at Ari’s house, we turned off the lights, locked the doors, and went into her bedroom together. We undressed each other slowly. We put our hands and mouths all over each other’s bodies. We breathed one another in. Although we both had to be up early—me to catch a flight and Ari to open the diner—we stayed awake long into the night. No promises were made and nothing was said about tomorrow. She fell asleep in my arms, and I wondered if I’d ever have what we’d shared with anyone else. It seemed impossible.
There was only one Ari.
“I have to go.” Dressed and ready, I sank down on the edge of the bed where she was still lying on her side, her head resting on her arm.
“Okay.”
I leaned over and pressed my lips to her shoulder, her cheek, her forehead, and finally her lips. “Thanks for everything.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
I brushed her hair away from her face. “You did lots of things. You listened to me. You inspired me. You created a masterclass in emotional depth with nothing but your television and your taste in incredibly sappy movies.”