Cooper wiped at the new mess, frustrated almost to the point of tears, until it hit her.
Then, she just looked at me, and I knew her thoughts without her speaking them.
And just like the night that first stain was made, I kissed her. It was all I could do. I couldn’t not kiss her.
One year.
Every day of it filled with moments like that, with the two of us holding onto each other for dear life, trying to figure everything out together. A year of discovery, of laughter, and, though the me who existed this time last year would have sworn it wasn’t possible, a year of love, too.
There’s a ring in the drawer next to my side of the bed, buried under my socks, pushed to the far back corner so Cooper doesn’t find it. She doesn’t know I have it, doesn’t know I bought it over the summer, that it’s been burning a hole in that drawer ever since. I wanted to give it to her that very night, wanted to drop to my knees in front of our couch where we were watching some stupid movie that neither of us really cared about.
But with Cooper, everything needs to be magical — most of all this.
I may not be Prince Charming, and what we have is far from a fairytale, but I promised myself that day we walked down the hike from Palouse Falls that I would spend every day of my fucking life working to become the man who deserved her, the man she’d dreamed of, the man I wanted to be.
Last night, when I’d finished kissing her breathless, when the new stains on her scarf had dried as one with the other, Cooper asked me what made me happy. My answer was honest and sure.
Living, and you.
Cooper, if you’re reading this, which I’m sure you are, since I’m going to press it face down on our table with a note that says READ THE FIRST ENTRY — YES, I ACTUALLY WANT YOU TO READ IT, then meet me at Pier 57 at the wheel.
Because I want you, Cooper. For now. Forever. And though my journal did a great job of telling you how I felt about you one year ago, of giving you the words I couldn’t say out loud, it can’t do justice for what I feel for you now.
This, I have to tell you in person.
See you soon, Little Penny.
Drive fast.
I’ll start this by saying that, like Emery, I’ve stared at this blinking cursor for far too long now trying to figure out the right words to say. I’ve decided the “right words” don’t really exist, not for this, so I’m just going to write honestly and from the heart. I hope it’s enough.
For some of you, this book will just be another one to add to the shelf of those you’ve read. The “past” shelf. It will sit with you for only a moment, for the hours you read it, and then it will exist only in a memory and on that shelf of things already experienced.
But, for others, this one will hit home. Some of you will read Emery’s story, his thoughts in the pages of his journal, and you’ll understand. Some of you will identify with how he feels, and maybe some of you will look at those pages and wonder if that was the way one of your loved ones felt when they were facing their own demons.
This note is for you.
I have fought battles with depression and anxiety — not just my own, but those of close friends and family members, too. I know too well how alone you can feel when you’re in the depths of it, when the shadows are so dark they feel like an all-encompassing night. I know how it feels to not find sleep, to fake a happiness that doesn’t actually exist.
But, I know what it feels like to be truly happy, too.
I know what it feels like to overcome those dark thoughts and feelings, through the help of my friends and family and other resources, and walk on the other side of that foggy existence. There were times when I couldn’t see the light, when I didn’t think a brighter day existed, but it does.
So, I guess the biggest thing I want you to take from this is that you are not alone — and you will be okay, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now.
I think one misconception is that depression only exists for people who have been through a devastating event, or that it’s something to be ashamed of, something you have to almost… earn? To be able to say you battle with it. It’s a difficult concept to understand, made even more impossible for those who haven’t been touched by it personally. How can someone just not get out of bed? How can doing a task as simple as driving to the store to pick up milk be that daunting?
The truth is, depression isn’t a one-size-fits all. It comes in so many shapes, fits us all in unique ways, and we each feel differently when we’re under the veils of it. Sometimes we’re okay, sometimes we’re not, and the truth of the matter is that in both times — we are human.
There is no easy answer to any of the questions we have when we’re right in the middle of our “bad days,” but there are people around us. There are friends and family members who love us and want to listen. And if you’re in a place where you feel like that’s not the case, then I want to share the following with you.
If you want to talk, 1-800-273-8255. Call this number for free and confidential support from the National Suicide Prevention Hotline.
Don’t want to talk? Maybe you’re like Emery and would rather write, instead. If so, you can text 741741 to be connected to the Crisis Text Line. One of my beta readers tested this to make sure it was legit, and they were immediately connected to a real person.
And, if you don’t even want to be connected to another human, maybe you can try answering Emery’s question — what makes you happy? You don’t have to tell anyone, just make a list, short or long, on paper or just in your head, of little or big things that bring you joy in this moment, on this day.
I know these resources are already out there for you to find. Me sharing them with you isn’t anything groundbreaking or new. But, if you connected with this story, with these characters, then that means you also connected with me — the writer behind the story. So, from me to you, I care about you — every single one of you — and you are not alone.
Remember when I said I had no idea what to write? Well, it’s still true as I wrap up this thought. I’m not an expert, and I don’t have all the answers. But I am a human, and I do understand, and I do truly wish the best for you in your life, and all the happiness you can possibly experience.
Again, thank you for reading my book, for continuing on long enough to read this note, too. I hope as you file this book away on the “read” shelf, you take a piece of it with you and hold it close to your heart, as I hold all of you close to mine.
I’m starting to get to a point in my career where I can’t truly thank everyone I really want to, like all of you — the readers — who I wish I could list by name in here to truly express how grateful I am for you. I mean, seriously, there are MILLIONS of books, hundreds of new ones being published each and every day, and you still picked mine. I am honored, truly, beyond words. Thank you for reading my work.
The first name I do have to list in this one is Sasha Whittington, my very best friend. This one was a doozy, wasn’t it? Thank you for opening up to me about your own struggles and for loving me through the hardest parts of this story. You helped me to remain honest, critiqued me when I needed it most, and more than anything, cheered me on when I felt like I couldn’t do it anymore. I love you with all my heart, and I know this book wouldn’t be what it is without you. Thank you.
Staci Hart might as well be a permanent embossed name in the back of all my books, because there hasn’t been a single one she hasn’t been a part of since we met. Staci, thank you for being there for me on the hard days, the days when the words wouldn’t come and I wanted to give up. You always push me, challenge me to be a better writer, and without you, my words wouldn’t shine the way they do. This is my favorite book I’ve written to date, and you helped make it what it is. Thank you. I love you. MTT.
To Brittainy C. Cherry, thank you for being my person. There is no one in the world who gets me more than you do, who understand the ups and downs of a girl who “feels too much.” Although I’m thankful for the role you play
ed in helping me write this story, I’m even more grateful for the universe helping us find each other, because I’m not sure how I survived before our friendship existed. Don’t ever leave me.
As always, I have to thank my momma, LaVon Allen. Without your constant love and support, I wouldn’t be the woman I am today, and I definitely wouldn’t have had the lady balls to quit my full-time job to pursue my dream of writing. I needed all my time and energy to fully dedicate to this work, so thank you for showing me that though taking risks can be scary, it’s always worth it.
My beta team was CLUTCH this time around, so I have to give a huge shout out to all of them. There were many changes made from the first draft of this gem, and you all gave me the tough love I needed to make it the best story it could be. Kellee Fabre, Monique Boone, Sarah Green, Kathryn Andrews, Danielle Lagasse, Becca Hensley Mysoor, Ashlei Davison, Tina Lynne, Trish QUEEN MINTNESS, and Sahar Bagheri — stop being so awesome. Just kidding, don’t ever stop. I love you. THANK YOU.
Elaine York, thank you for your understanding when I pushed back the date I gave you the final manuscript… twice. You understood more than anyone that this particular baby needed more of my time and attention, and you worked your ass off to still adhere to my deadlines even though I asked yours to be flexible. I couldn’t do this without you.
I would also like to thank Flavia Viotti, my incredible agent, for having the same hustle and drive that I do. I appreciate our relationship more than I can say, and I know we’re just getting started. The future is bright. ;)
To the magical Lauren Perry of Periwinkle Photography, thank you for yet another stunning photoshoot that made this cover my favorite of all. The feels you captured, the lighting, the STORY — it was more than I could ever ask for. I’m so thankful to have your talent in collaboration with my work, and more than that, to call you a friend. I love you.
I also want to thank Angie McKeon, my little bumblebee, who supports me throughout the ups and downs of not only release months, but all the other months in-between. Thank GOD the book world brought us together. I don’t know what I did before I heard your laugh or talked with you for hours on messenger. You are an amazing friend, and I’m glad to have you.
Nina Ginstead and the entire team at Social Butterfly PR, thank you for promoting On the Way to You with as much passion as I did. You treat me like a part of the family, and I’m thankful to have you on my team, too.
Last, but never least, thank you to my safe place — Kandiland. A group that started with just me and one other person has grown to almost two thousand members, and yet it still feels just as cozy as the first day. There is no place that can make me smile the way you guys do, and I honestly, TRUTHFULLY, could not do this without your constant love and encouragement. You’re the reason I keep going on the hard days. I love you all so much. And a special shout out to Jessica McBee, who keeps the wheels turning in Kandiland when I disappear into the writing cave. You da bomb dot com, baby girl.
Oh, and to Pocket, whose aggressive meowing helped motivate me to write long into the night. Meow meow, purr purr, yes, I’ll get you an ice cube.
Weightless Extended Epilogue
Promises, Promises
“Bug?”
I heard William’s voice from a distance, like he was somewhere in the clouds I stared at out the plane window instead of in the seat next to me. As we descended, the clouds thinned, and the beautiful country of Italy came into view. It should have stolen my breath, should have had me giddy and latching onto William’s arm as I squealed with joy — but instead, I watched the scenery unfold with red, tired eyes.
It wasn’t my first time in Italy, but it was my first time traveling internationally with William, and that was what made this trip so special. I’d dreamed of us eating gelato and walking the old cobblestone streets of Rome ever since he agreed to come with me. I pictured us walking hand in hand as we laughed and soaked in the foreign language around us, imagined late night talks on the balcony of our hotel, saw him kissing my cheek after I captured a shot of every tourist attraction imaginable with my camera. Images of pasta and wine and William’s eyes had filled my dreams for weeks.
But those dreams had been muted, lost in the fog of my thoughts ever since the announcement we received from his sister that morning, right before we left for the airport.
“Bug?” William asked again, and this time he reached over, squeezing my hand.
I blinked, pulling my gaze from the window to look at him, instead. His brows steepled together as his jade irises searched mine, and for a moment, I let myself take him in — his sandy hair a little shorter now than when we’d first met five years ago, his jaw cleanly shaved, just the way the restaurant liked him to have it, though I knew he’d sport a slight beard by the time we were on our way back home. His biceps stretched against the fabric of his t-shirt, his chest broader than ever, his body less that of a boy and more that of a man every single day.
We had both grown so much since that summer we met.
“Get any sleep?” he asked.
I forced as much of a smile as I could. “A little,” I lied. “How about you?”
“I slept like a rock, honestly. Is everything okay? Anything you want to talk about?”
My stomach tightened, because William had been the one I’d gone to with anything and everything that had been on my mind for five years.
And yet, I couldn’t talk to him about this.
“I’m okay,” I lied again. “Just hard to sleep on a plane. And I think I already miss Zipper.”
William chuckled. “I’m sure he misses you, too. But Willow’s got him, and you know she’ll take care of him. She loves that dog as much as we do.”
I gave a genuine smile at that, because I knew it was true. My best friend had moved to Savannah as soon as she finished college, and though I knew she was happy to be closer to me, I half wondered if she’d moved more for Zipper than for us. She was always bringing him treats and toys, offering to watch him whenever William and I had work events or wanted to go out for a night or get away for a weekend.
We were lucky to have her.
“Do you want to go get a nap in at the hotel before we go out?” William asked.
I shook my head. “That’ll just make the jet lag worse. I’ll be fine.”
William nodded, but his brows pulled together even more, revealing that crease between his eyes that I knew so well. He opened his mouth, like he wanted to ask more, but then he seemed to think better of it. After a moment, he smiled. “We’re in Italy, Bug.”
I returned his smile, but it felt dead on my lips. “Our first international trip.”
“And your first international art auction. Are you excited to see the pieces they’ll have for sale?”
I didn’t know how to answer that, since I wasn’t excited for a single thing in that moment. I should have been, and I realized that, but an unfamiliar anxiety had slipped over me that morning.
Because after five years together, I didn’t know if that man who held my hand would be my forever.
I’d never questioned it before — at least, not out loud. Not in a way that stopped all my other all-consuming, loving thoughts I had for him. He was my partner, my teammate, my best friend, my everything. Sure, we didn’t get to hang out as much as we used to — not with him working long nights at the restaurant, and me balancing my last semester of college with curating full time for the museum — but at the end of the day, we still crawled into that king-size bed together. I still rested my head on his chest and felt his arms wrap around me as a content sigh left his lips before we each drifted off.
I’d never questioned it, never saw us as being anywhere other than exactly where we should be.
But that morning, his sister had called to give us news that she was pregnant, and for some reason, that news hadn’t thrilled me.
It had depressed me.
Alayna and Officer Martino — now known as Philip to us — had been together about the same amount
of time as William and I had been. Yes, they’d had more years together before they made things official, but their relationship had really started about the same time as mine and William’s had. And ever since then, they’d moved so fast.
They got a house together after Alayna finished her book tour with my mom.
They got married the following summer.
Now, they were pregnant with their first child.
And William and I were still in the same place — living in an apartment together with a dog, playing house, with no firm plans of moving forward.
I had William’s word that he was mine forever, and a symbol of that promise in the form of an eternity ring that dawned my ring finger on the hand he held in his now. He’d promised me he was mine forever, that one day, he’d replace that ring with one that would say I was his wife. And ever since that night, that had been enough for me — that promise ring.
But something about his sister’s news had triggered me, had made me ask if that was enough anymore.
And I think I knew the answer, even if I didn’t want to admit it.
It’d been three years since he gave me that ring. Five years of us being together. And though I knew he was mine, and I was his, and there was no reason to want or need a piece of paper that legally solidified that, I found that I wanted one.
Admitting it out loud had cemented it into my brain, and now I couldn’t let it go.
“I’m so excited,” I lied again, answering William’s question about the auction. “Just a little tired. I’ll perk up after some coffee.”
I hated that I didn’t feel like I could tell him the truth, but, deep down, I knew I was excited — somewhere under all my anxiety. This was my chance to curate a new line for the museum, to take photos in a new place and possibly put my own work on sale at the next local exhibit. And, though the restaurant had been hesitant to let William take so much time off, the love of my life was here with me.
Summer Romance Box Set: 3 Bestselling Stand-Alone Romances: Weightless, Revelry, and On the Way to You Page 83
