These Three Words

by Holly Jacobs

  “Sort of?” he asked.

  “Well, it’s a big gift, and while I think you’ll like it, I didn’t want to commit to that kind of money without asking you. There’s time to stop it if you want, but I don’t think we should.”

  “Is it here?” he asked.

  “Inside.” We quietly opened the sliding glass door and walked back into the bedroom with the bed positioned so the first thing you’d see in the morning was the bay. As I entered the first thing I saw was our own personal anchor of hope.

  I tossed the blanket on the chair and it landed on a rattle. The noise was sharp in the quiet room. I held my breath a moment, but there was no other sound.

  I picked up the large manila envelope from my overnight bag and I handed it to Gray.

  “Another honeymoon?” he asked quietly, smiling.

  After he got out of the hospital, we’d talked about going to an island resort somewhere, but in the end, life got in the way of flying, so we’d come here, to Ferncliff. “Being with you is all the honeymoon I’ll ever need. Plus, I don’t think we could have gone anywhere in the world and found such lovely souvenirs.”

  I glanced at the bed where our anchors were still lying.

  I knew that kind of stillness wouldn’t last long.

  Gray followed my look and kissed my forehead, then hesitantly opened the envelope, scanned the paper, and looked at me with questions in his eyes.

  “It’s the cottage next door,” I explained, pointing to the ramshackle building to my right. “I think JoAnn stayed away this year in order to give us a regular escape from the real world. I feel like we’ve rediscovered us again down here. It’s been a yearlong honeymoon.”

  We came almost every weekend that JoAnn wasn’t using the house.

  “I know they’re busy with the boys’ activities and they didn’t use it much,” I said. “But I think they’d have used it more if it weren’t for us. I’ve felt guilty, and when I heard the one next door was going on the market, I went over and talked to Mr. Laraby. If we buy it, he won’t have to list it with an agent, so he’d give us a very fair deal. Then I went to the bank and here’s what our payments would be.”

  “You want us to move here?” he asked.

  “No. I want us to live on Willow Lane and keep coming down here for vacations—honeymoons. All of us. I’d like JoAnn and Harmon to bring their kids here, and our family would be next door. I like to think of years of all of us coming down here. The kids growing up together down here.”

  I glanced again at the king-size bed. The babies both slept soundly in the middle of it.

  When Gray and I rediscovered each other, I thought that I had reached the pinnacle of happiness. Then when I’d found out I was pregnant, fear mixed with joy. Joy mixed with love. So much more love.

  We’d clung to each other throughout the pregnancy, terrified we’d lose these babies, too, but not turning away from each other. No, we’d held on tight.

  “I look at it as a lifetime of honeymoons,” I said. “I want you to teach Maude Alice and Mark James to fish here. I want to buy a canoe when they’re bigger, and row across the bay to the peninsula.”

  “And maybe lie on the deck and watch the sunset behind Presque Isle?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Us. The four of us. We’ll escape here for a day or a weekend. We’ll shut out the world and just be us.”

  “It would be a lot of work,” he said. “I was in Mr. Laraby’s house that one time. It’s got paneling.”

  “I don’t care, but we can paint it if it bothers us.” I could almost see us all working, the four of us smeared with paint as we laughed.

  “His kitchen is ancient,” Gray said.

  “It’s antique. I like antiques,” I insisted. “Plus, JoAnn has a handyman who takes care of stuff at the store. I’ve never met a job that Darius couldn’t do. I’m sure he’d help us out with anything that has to be fixed.”

  “I like the whole history of Ferncliff, and you’re right, having JoAnn and Harmon as neighbors would be a bonus. And I really like the view here,” he said slowly. I realized that rather than looking at the now-dark bay, he was looking at me.

  I looked back at Gray. At the man I loved.

  “Addie, thank you for the gift.”

  “Then you want the cottage?” I asked, checking that’s what he meant.

  “Yes. But the gift I was thinking of was you and our kids. And . . .” he hesitated.

  “Those words are good enough, Gray. I love you, too,” I assured him. “More than pickles.”

  “More than sunsets,” he said in return.

  “More than ice cream,” I said.

  Before Gray could add another more than, Maude stirred, which woke her brother up. I reached for her, and Gray picked up Mark.

  I watched him holding our son and I remembered that day I planned on giving him those papers. I’d thought I must have loved him once.

  I’d been right.

  I had loved him once.

  Then I loved him again.

  And now I knew with certainty that I’d love him always.

  Author’s Note

  February 2015

  Dear Reader,

  I think that good marriages tend to be built on two sets of three words. Here I am and I love you. I loved exploring how a couple could not only find true love once, but could rediscover it again.

  I’ve loved and been married to the same man for years . . . wait, decades. And while I’ve never fallen out of love with him, I have fallen in love with him all over again many times.

  I’ve talked about the “Easter eggs” I’ve hidden in my books before. They’re bits of myself that work their way into every story. Some are big ones that most of my readers and friends might pick up on (my hometown, Erie, Pennsylvania, Mondays, and Glee are pretty blatant) and some are just special little references that only one other person gets.

  They’re Playing Our Song is a huge Easter egg . . . an homage to my love of Broadway. I’m pretty sure a lot of friends and readers will get that. But those references are something more individual, too.

  I was a junior in high school when my mother and father went to New York City. Mom brought me back a pair of pajamas from Saks Fifth Avenue. I’d never heard of the store (sorry, Saks) and she was disappointed that I wasn’t impressed by the tan box with the Saks name emblazoned on it. I still feel bad that I ruined her surprise.

  But Mom brought me back an even better gift that day. She’d bought the album from the Broadway show they’d seen, They’re Playing Our Song. Lucie Arnaz and Robert Klein played a lyricist and composer in it—she writes the words and he writes the melodies. Romance ensues. At the end of the show, they’ve broken up and Robert Klein’s character sits in the hospital singing “Fill in the Words.” He needs the heroine to find the words for him.

  That song kept playing over and over in my head as I wrote this book. That idea of someone who can’t find the words for himself inspired Gray. Gray loves, and loves completely, but he doesn’t know how to tell Addie. He can’t always put all his feelings into words. And sometimes when he does find the words, they come out wrong. I think that everyone has experienced those moments when what you’re trying to say doesn’t just come out wrong, it comes out so wrong.

  The story was written from Addie’s point of view . . . it was told in her words. That made sense to me and to the story. But through Addie’s words, Gray finds his. They both suffer under the weight of their waiting and the weight of their loss, but in the end they both realize that the most important words are I love you. Everything else builds from them.

  I hope you enjoyed the story. And for those of you who read Carry Her Heart, you’ll see that Siobhan had a cameo in this book. Her story is in the works . . . so you’ll get to go back and visit with Ned and Pip.

  I want to thank you all for your unbelievable s
upport. Thank you for the letters, the Twitter and Facebook posts. Just thank you!

  And a special thanks to JoAnn Ross and Kelli Martin. JoAnn read Just One Thing and along with Kelli, my editor, said, “More like that, Holly.” Thanks to them both for the encouragement.

  And a special thanks to my mom. I might not have known what Saks Fifth Avenue was, but, like Gray, I played that album hundreds of times! My kids all know the music to that show, too. It was one of the reasons I fell in love with Broadway . . . and that’s a gift that’s stayed with me, long after the pajamas wore out.

  Holly

  About the Author

  Award-winning author Holly Jacobs has sold over two million books worldwide. The first novel in her Everything But . . . series, Everything But a Groom, was named one of 2008’s Best Romances by Booklist, and her books have been honored with countless other accolades.

  Holly has a wide range of interests, from her love for writing to gardening and even basket weaving. She has delivered more than sixty author workshops and keynote speeches across the country. She lives in Erie, Pennsylvania, with her family and her dogs. She frequently sets stories in and around her hometown.