by Fiona Lucas
“And have you conquered it?”
“Getting there,” Brody replied, a smile lifting his features. Anna gripped onto the arm of the sofa for support. She’d never seen him smile before. It was so . . . so . . .
And then he was gone. The reporter was wrapping up and there were shots of the pair of presenters back in the studio. Anna stood up and moved toward the television, although she wasn’t quite sure why.
“Anna?”
Anna almost jumped out of her skin at the muffled voice that seemed to be coming from somewhere near her midriff. She looked down and saw she was clutching her phone. Oh, yes. Gabi.
“Are you there?” Gabi asked, sounding shrill. “Did you see?”
“Yes.” She felt like she was in a trance.
“He was talking about you, Anna.”
Anna nodded dumbly. “I know.”
“So . . .” Gabi took a breath, then carried on, sounding hesitant. “The big question is—are you going to call him?”
Chapter Sixty
It was close to eight a.m. when Anna turned into a narrow lane that climbed steeply out of the valley up a wild and windswept hill. She’d driven through the night and dawn was just about to break. Thank goodness for all the Google mapping she’d done after she’d found out who Brody really was. She was pretty sure she was in the right spot. She’d driven through Hexworthy and had just passed the little stone bridge that she thought was the one Brody described taking Lewis over most days.
Halfway up the winding hilly lane, she spotted a cottage and her pulse began to hammer as she slowed down and pulled her car into a large, cobbled yard. When she turned off the engine, the silence of the countryside around her was thick and complete.
Anna got out of the car and walked up to the cottage. She was so nervous she thought she might faint. It was an inconvenient time of day to be knocking on somebody’s door, she knew, but she hadn’t been able to make herself go to bed and wait until the morning before she’d set off.
She used the large brass knocker on the door to rap a few times and waited, but there was no dull thud of feet on stairs inside, no muffled rustling as someone made their way to the door. She looked up. One of the bedroom windows was open. He might be in. He could have seen her through the window, and maybe he just didn’t want to answer.
What should she do now? Anna didn’t know. But she did know that she wasn’t ready to turn tail and flee again. She walked back out into the center of the yard and looked around. There were a few outbuildings and a wide path that led round the side of the house toward a small porch. Beyond that was a terrace with an old wrought-iron table and chairs. She sat down on one, facing the brightening sky down the valley, and waited.
BRODY STRODE DOWN the hill with Lewis in his wake. He’d woken up sometime around three and hadn’t been able to get back to sleep again. An idea had been hovering around in his brain, yet it had refused to come into focus, even when he’d properly woken up. He’d finished writing the last volume of Pip’s adventures yesterday, yet he had the feeling that something was missing: a character, a person.
He’d been too groggy for a run that early in the day, but a long walk had fit the bill. He’d been up to the top of the hill over the valley and, sitting on a small rocky outcrop, he’d watched the sunrise. Now he was definitely ready for some breakfast.
When he turned into the yard, he stopped. There was a strange car sitting there, a little silver hatchback, and from the creaks and groans of the metal, he guessed the engine had not long been turned off. He looked around but couldn’t see the driver. He hadn’t been expecting any deliveries today.
Lewis barked and ran off down the side of the house. Brody followed him. When he turned the corner onto the terrace, he saw a woman sitting at the wrought-iron table. She was wearing a coat, a gray scarf and a knitted purple beanie with a flower on the side.
“Anna?”
She looked up at him. Those eyes, that expression. Just like the picture on his phone. Brody started to wonder if he had actually got up and gone for a walk that morning. Maybe he’d dozed off again. Maybe he was dreaming.
“Are you real?” he asked as he walked toward her. A hint of a smile lit up her eyes and he realized he’d said that out loud. That was the problem with living on your own in the middle of nowhere. You forgot to filter stuff, said any old thing that came into your head.
“As real as you are,” she replied, standing up.
Lewis was at her feet, looking up at her, and she bent down to make a fuss of him. He then flopped down contentedly at her feet and rested his chin on his paws.
What? How . . . ?
“I know what you’re thinking,” she said. “What am I doing here?”
She moved toward him and Brody began to feel light-headed.
Anna stopped when she was a few feet away and glanced down at the flagstones. “I lied to you,” she said when she looked back up at him.
“It’s okay,” he said, realizing that it really was. “I lied to you too. Mostly by omission, but that didn’t make it any more honest.”
She pressed her lips together briefly. “I wish you’d told me about all your struggles. It wouldn’t have changed anything, you know, about our relationship. I saw . . . that interview you did. You said you were doing better.”
“A lot.” He tried to smile. “There’s a stranger in my yard and I’m not freaking out, so I’d say that’s progress.”
“A stranger . . .” Anna looked away, nodding gently. “I suppose I deserve that. Especially after all you went through just to see me on New Year’s Eve, and I just . . .” She trailed off, looking unbearably sad.
“You were scared,” he said, but it was a fact, not a judgment.
“I was terrified. Of you, of everything I felt.”
“Yes,” he said. “Are you still?”
Anna nodded, but she stepped nearer. She looked up at him, right into his eyes. “Definitely. But I am certain of one thing . . . I don’t want to say goodbye to you, Brody. I don’t want to say it to you ever again.” Tears filled her eyes, making her lashes dark and spiky. “Do you remember the first thing I ever said to you?”
“You said, ‘I love you.’” He looked down at the ground momentarily. “But you weren’t saying it to me. You were saying it to Spencer.”
“But now I am saying it to you. Only, I didn’t want to say it down a phone line. I wanted to say it like this.” She stepped even closer, so they were almost touching. He could see the hesitation in her eyes, the fear. “I love you, Brody. I was just too scared to let myself see it, and then when I did . . .”
He nodded. He understood the weird things fear could make a person do. “It doesn’t matter.”
He reached out, his fingers hovering near her face, aware he was about to touch her for the very first time. Slowly, he brushed her jaw, her cheek, felt the softness as she looked into his eyes and blinked away her tears. She brought her hand up and covered his, held it. She was smiling now.
He kissed her tears away and when that was done, he kissed her properly. It had been so long since he’d made contact with another human being that the sensations were magnified. This didn’t just feel like his first kiss with Anna; it felt like his first kiss ever.
But then she smiled at him, and it was a memory direct from his dream all those months ago. The smile said, I know you. I am with you and for you. Always. Warmth flooded through him. This was definitely not a stranger.
“Hello,” she whispered through fresh tears, and her smile grew wider.
Brody smiled back. “Hello.”
Acknowledgments
First thanks have to go to my lovely editor Emily Kitchin, who believed in me enough to want to publish this book after a few false starts—on my part, not hers—and has been unwavering in her enthusiasm for The Last Goodbye throughout the process, from first idea to final manuscript. Dude, we finally got this one in the bag! Many thanks too, to my US editor, Liz Stein, and to Molly Gendell. I so appreciate your
wisdom and insight. Between the four of us, we really have polished this story to a shine!
I am also in awe of the wonderful, dynamic, energetic team at HQ, who are going from strength to strength, and I am really excited to be one of your authors. Thank you so much for believing in The Last Goodbye from the get-go—your enthusiasm blew me away. It really is an author’s dream come true to have so many people so invested in a project, and I want to thank everyone who has worked on, or will work on, this book, even in the smallest way. Special thanks have to go to everyone in the PR and marketing teams, especially Jo Rose, Joe Thomas and Katrina Smedley, and most of all to the ever-innovative captain of our ship, Lisa Milton.
Massive, massive thanks to my wonderful agent, Amanda Preston, to whom this book is dedicated. It took a year and five started manuscripts for us to come up with the right story idea, but you cheered me on and kept me buoyant throughout. And not only did you know straightaway which of my final round of possible book ideas had legs, but you also came up with the last puzzle piece to the story cencept that truly unlocked its potential. This book would not even have existed if you hadn’t said, “but what if it isn’t him . . . ?” I can never thank you enough for all your hard work and support over the last few years (although I may attempt to repay you in chocolate and/or desserts, if that’s okay?).
Also, huge thanks to my lovely friend Rachael Carter for talking to me about her family and Brazilian culture and customs. You are such a joy to know, and I’m so thankful for your generosity.
As always, I have to thank my family for all their love and support. Andy, Rose and Sian—you know you are my favorite people in the world, and I love you all to bits. Thanks to my sister, Kirsteen, for her unfailing support and understanding the woes and triumphs of being a writer.
And, as any writer knows, there is family family, and then there is writing family. I couldn’t do this job without you all. Thank you for the laughs, the commiserations, the ranting on my behalf and the wine (because there always seems to be wine . . . ). Big love especially to Susan Wilson, Heidi Rice, Daisy Cummins, Iona Grey, Donna Alward and Sheila Crichton, and to the wonderful members of the RNA—too many to name, but what a wonderful community to belong to!
And a few random last-minute mentions: to the staff of my local Caffè Nero, who have no idea that that table just inside the door is my unofficial office, and to my newfound family of nerdy, authentic, talented and outrageously funny writers and readers on #Booktok. I finally find my online tribe!
I know it’s not always very fashionable to believe in God anymore, but I do, and I cannot begin to quantify the impact this has had on my life, my career and my creativity. Thank you to the One who gives me strength, love and inspiration.
P.S. Insights, Interviews & More . . .*
About the Author
* * *
Meet Fiona Lucas
About the Book
* * *
A Conversation with the Author
Reading Group Guide
About the Author
Meet Fiona Lucas
FIONA LUCAS is an award-winning author of contemporary women’s fiction. She has written heartwarming love stories and feel-good women’s fiction as Fiona Harper for more than a decade. During her career, she’s won numerous awards, including a Romantic Novel Award in 2018, and chalked up a No. 1 Kindle bestseller. Fiona lives in London with her husband and two daughters.
Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.
About the Book
A Conversation with the Author
Where did the idea for The Last Goodbye come from?
It was a scene from the hit drama The Good Wife that got me thinking how strong the urge to have one last conversation with someone you’ve lost can be, especially when they’re taken suddenly and unexpectedly. It made me think of how my mother-in-law kept my father-in-law’s voice on her answering machine for years after he died. The idea of a widow phoning her dead husband’s number just to hear his voicemail message grabbed me—but what if something impossible happened? There should be silence on the other end of the line, but what if someone answered?
What is your writing routine like? Tell us about your process.
I’m definitely a planner, but what I need to know most before I start writing is the emotional journeys that my characters are going to go on, because that is what shapes the plot for me. I dig deep into the characters and get to know them really well before I start writing, but then, as I go along, I have to work out what plot events will push them to grow and change—and sometimes pinning down what they’re going to do and say on the page to make that journey is the hardest bit to work out!
You’ve been writing fiction for over a decade. How has your writing changed book by book?
I think the basic flavor of my writing hasn’t changed much—I still write heartwarming, emotional books with a touch of humor. While I’ve written quite a few rom-coms in the past, and still love the flirtiness and freshness of those stories, more recently I’ve been drawn to writing books with darker and more emotionally complex storylines.
What was it like writing about Brody’s career as a novelist, a world you know well? Is his writing process similar to yours in any ways?
I think Brody had a much more serious case of writer’s block than I’ve ever had (thank goodness), but maybe that’s my fears coming out on the page? He also writes a lot faster than I do when inspiration strikes, so maybe there was a bit of wishful thinking going on there too!
What is the main thing you hope readers take away from The Last Goodbye?
That as human beings we have a tricky relationship with the past—it can be the source of our dearest memories but also our deepest pain. Whether we like it or not, the river of time keeps moving us forward, and to pretend it doesn’t only bring us further misery. Somehow, we have to learn how to honor the past while still navigating our present and steering towards our futures—but it can be a rocky journey and take bravery and courage to do that.
Reading Group Guide
Is there anyone you’ve lost or are no longer in contact with that you would like to have one last conversation with? What would you like to ask them? What would you want them to know?
How are Anna’s and Brody’s emotional conditions at the start of the book similar? How are they different?
Gabi tells Anna she’s like a zombie—is this true? How do you see this in her behavior?
Why do you think the tragedy in Brody’s life led to his agoraphobia?
Gayle isn’t always a likable character. Did you ever sympathize with her?
Why do you think Anna’s first instinct was to run when she saw Brody at the top of the Shard?
While the book dealt with some difficult issues to do with grief and mental health, did you find the ending optimistic or uplifting? What do you feel the message of the book was?
Anna complains that Gayle is stuck in the past, but can you move on after loss? How do you find the balance between holding dear memories close and living the best life you can in the present?
Why is Anna able to open up to Brody in a way she isn’t able to speak to the others in her life, even those close to her or those who have also lost Spencer? What does their relationship, and Anna’s inspiration for the app, say about the importance of human connection?
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
P.S.™ is a trademark of HarperCollins Publishers
THE LAST GOODBYE. Copyright © 2020 by Fiona Lucas. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be rep
roduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Cover design and illustration by Soo Kim
Originally published in the United Kingdom in 2020 by HarperCollins UK.
FIRST U.S. EDITION
Digital Edition MAY 2021 ISBN: 978-0-06-303639-0
Version 04092021
Print ISBN: 978-0-06-303638-3
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