by Alex Rosa
I reach into my sweatshirt pocket to grab the now very worn note that was left on my nightstand yesterday morning.
I slump as I stare, tugging at a ragged, unwashed strand of my hair as I read the five words over and over again:
That’s it. No signature or endearment, just this irrefutable fact in Caiden’s chicken scratch handwriting.
Why isn’t love enough? I’ll add it to my list of reasons why life isn’t fair.
It doesn’t change the fact that I can’t stop staring at the note. I suck in a breath, accepting my awful fate, and consider something absurd.
Maybe I should frame the note when I get home. It can hold the inspiration for novels to come, and also remind me that at least I felt this for real once.
It’s both sadistic and sad.
I stuff it back into my pocket, hating and loving the damn thing at once, noting that’s how I tend to feel about Caiden, too.
I turn to my carryon luggage, squinting at it, and think about my mother’s ashes tucked away inside.
“Mom, I’m scared. What if what I’m doing is wrong? What if it’s not worth it? I should have stayed home all those years ago. I’d never know this pain. I might actually be happy,” I whisper, hoping no one hears me losing my mind.
My eyes sink closed, trying to grasp onto memories of the joy I felt when I snagged my book deal or the moment it hit number one on the New York Times, and how I rushed to call my mom. I try to remember why it was worth it.
I want to think that my mom would say it all was. That as long as it was something I worked hard for and wanted, then it’s fine.
My lips twitch at a far-off memory in my teens, leaning over the breakfast bar of the diner, staring at my mother’s rosy cheeks and silvery blonde hair as she’d say, “C’mon, Hailey. You can’t have your pie and eat it, too,” as she’d slide me a fresh piece from the kitchen.
I can’t have it all. Ain’t that a shame.
Mom, I miss you.
My eyes fly open when two women take a seat in the chairs behind me, jabbering away.
If sitting at the gate is this bad for my brain, I can’t imagine what my two-hour flight will be like. I figure stocking up on as many obnoxious, mundane, vanity-infused magazines as possible is the best way to go to distract myself.
I’m about to get up from my seat, but the woman behind me catches my attention as I hear the ruffling of pages. A book is tossed from the girl directly behind me onto her friend’s lap to my left.
“Here. I got you the book I’ve been telling you about.”
I try not to fidget, but I can’t help it when I lift my chin just enough to catch a glimpse of my very own novel. Its pristine trade-paperback size with the glossy movie poster cover stares back at me.
I never did love its flashy makeover, which feels like some annoying self-fulfilled prophecy. I’ve grown with that book. There was a time when I and that book were both rough around the edges, but look at us now.
I get the urge to move. I should remove myself from this situation. I’m too raw to witness what might be said, but no matter, I continue to listen in as my heart picks up pace.
“So, is this going to be a perfect beach read, then?” the girl asks. “I need a really good love story. I’m such a sucker for them and need something like that right now.”
Don’t we all…
“You won’t be disappointed.” Her friend squeals with excitement that makes me smile as I try to keep my stare forward. “It’s more than love, it’s like, I don’t know, fate! The feels, oh God, the feels. I hear it’s going to be a movie. You can’t go wrong with this book. It totally helped me through my breakup with Zack. Why can’t book love be real love? Ya know?”
“I know, right?” her friend chirps as she flips through the pages. “Maybe it’s unfair for books to make these unrealistic expectations, but I don’t care. I need some sort of hope.”
My blood churns hot and thick as heat rushes to my face while I try not to get emotional over a stranger’s conversation I shouldn’t be listening to. But I can’t help myself as I lean my head back to get a better look at my book and a better listen, but my stupid head bumps into the girl behind me.
Thunk.
“Whoa?” the girl says out loud as she leans forward to avoid more injury.
I twist my back around, rubbing at my scalp. Ow.
I’m twitchy and excited, but also a little manic as I say, “Ya know, love like that does exist. I’m just an idiot.”
“Excuse me?” the one clutching my book says as she gives me a baffled, green-eyed expression. It strangely reminds me of Caiden, and I realize everything at once.
“I’m sorry. I know it sounds crazy, but I couldn’t help myself.” I point at the book in her hands, squinting in disbelief at it, feeling foolish and amazed. “I’d know about that whole love thing. Don’t give up hope, and if you find that love, don’t be an idiot like me. Hold on to it and never let go.”
Both women exchange looks of confusion. I must look like I escaped from the nearest insane asylum. That is, until the bump-on-the-head girl snatches the book from her friend’s hands, flipping it over to the back cover.
“Oh my God, you’re Hailey Elwood.”
I cringe as I catch a glimpse of my author bio. “I hate that photo they put on the back of the book,” I retort as I start to rise from my seat, suddenly frantic to leave, flooded with all the reasons I wrote the book in the first place and what it’s taught me now.
“So, it is you, right?”
I shrug, grabbing for the handle of my luggage. “Yeah, it is.”
“I loved your book! Can you please sign it for me?”
I grin, shaking my head as I glance at the time. “Shit—oops, sorry. This’ll have to be super quick. I think I just realized I have to go get the guy that made that book into a reality. Thanks for inspiring me not to make the same mistake all over again.”
Both girls squeal as I grab for the pen in one of their hands, flipping to the cover page to write “Stay True” and sign my name.
I hope they understand its meaning, but I’m not sure they’ll ever grasp how much they’ve managed to help me with something so seemingly insignificant. Sometimes an epiphany comes in the strangest, simplest forms.
I’m scrambling to leave with a polite smile. “I’m sorry, I really have to go now. I’m glad you enjoyed the book, and I hope your friend does, too!”
My feet sprint in the opposite direction, and all I can hear are the fading giggles of girls and the squeaking wheels of my carryon on the airport floor.
I’m grinning, but I’m also crying as I retrace my steps back to the loading area. Security is a breeze when you exit, but my carryon gets dragged and flips over every time I attempt a turn or pick up the pace.
I grunt as I pull my carryon upright as I rush through glass double doors to the pavement.
This part isn’t so easy. I’m still three hours away from PineCrest. I’ll have to rent another car and hope I don’t get a speeding ticket.
I’m cursing myself as I approach Rent-A-Car, wondering what Caiden might be doing right now. Is he back at the station? At the diner? The bar? Is he thinking of me?
I grunt, wishing things could be fixed instantly. I can’t just call him, can I? I need to tell him I made a mistake. I need to tell him that I don’t care what I have to do, I’ll do anything to keep him.
I pull out my phone, my eyes darting from the line at the counter to my finger hovering over his name, wondering what my plan of action should be.
A familiar rumble vibrates through the loading area behind me, and my heart shudders with it.
I wipe at my eyes as I swivel around, stunned at the sight of Brandon’s truck pulling up onto the curb, spooking a couple people twenty feet away.
I nearly drop my phone, loving and hating how perfect Caiden Anderson is all over again as he appears, hopping out of the truck.
Couldn’t I be the hero this time?
Of course, he’s
going to show up. He’s so perfect, he’d take the blame to make this right.
It takes less than fifteen seconds for him to see me on the other side, petrified to the spot, staring back at him as if he was a mirage.
He doesn’t hesitate. He closes the truck door and runs to me, as if he’s afraid I’ll be the one heading the other direction.
Stopping three feet in front of me, he starts frantically talking, “I should—”
“NO, I need to talk.” I feel like an idiot. I would literally do everything I can to make this work, even if I lose the movie deal right now, no matter how much I fought for it. I’d find a way to fix it later, because there’s not going to be another chance for Caiden and me. I pause, absorbing the way he watches me with that funny dimpled smirk. “I can’t believe you’re here right now.”
He releases a pent-up breath. “Why aren’t you on your plane right now?”
“Because I was about to run back to you.”
His smirk grows into a full-blown grin. He bashfully points at himself as he says, “For me?”
I nod. “I was being selfish.”
“We both were. I don’t know how we managed to replay history, but I haven’t been able to shake this feeling, Hails. There has to be a way. I’d rather do what it takes to make us work and make the mistakes along the way if it meant I got to give us a chance. It’d be worth it.”
My shell-shocked look transitions into laughter. We’ve always been more of a dramedy than a contemporary romance. It’s no wonder I was able to write a book about us. We’re a hot mess of ridiculous.
I shake my head in disbelief, licking my lips, tasting salty tears, thankful that we both had similar epiphanies.
“I need to tell you something,” I sniffle through more tight giggles, reaching out to grab his hand, fiddling with his fingers to calm my nerves and to confirm he’s really here. “Want to know how I knew whatever I was feeling was real? It’s going to sound stupid.”
Caiden looks at me with a satisfied crook to his lips. My nerves are too caught up in the moment as I stare at our hands, the words excitedly leaving my lips. “I was sitting at the gate, anxious to get on the plane because I wouldn’t be able to back out at that point. While trying to sit still, trying to figure out why everything felt so wrong, I overheard a couple of women talking. One of them was recommending a book to her friend. It happened to be MY—our book.” I pause to witness Caiden’s lips squirm at my first out-loud acknowledgment that the book is in fact about us. It fuels me forward with a bit of giddiness brewing in my veins.
“She was gushing about it and how it helped her, and her friend said she wished love in books was like that in real life. See, what I’m trying to say is, here I was sitting in the airport terrified to make a choice because I didn’t know which one was right. And When I overheard those women talking, something just clicked. It lit me up from the inside. I realized that the story I wrote was worth telling… our story. Not just to me, but to other people. At first, it terrified me, but it was also exhilarating. I always knew people liked my book, but the reason why never dawned on me. Hearing them say those things was like this confirmation of what I had been trying to pinpoint.” I pause, pulling in a breath, squaring my shoulders as I lock my stare with Caiden’s.
“That I love you, and how I was making the same mistake I did before. You’re what makes the choices and dreams worth it. I wouldn’t have made any of it without you. I wrote the book with us in mind, and I used it to capture how we impacted each other, and readers feel it; they must. People believe in our story, but there’s a key ingredient that makes the difference. It’s the ending they connect with. It’s that last chapter that makes the book worth reading. People love the story, and the happily ever after… that I made up! Although most of the book is based in truth, the most fictional part is the end. We didn’t get our happily ever after… and here I was, eavesdropping on a conversation, on the verge of throwing away the possibility of finally getting to have that happy ending. I’d be a fool to let that go.”
“But we can have that now,” Caiden whispers.
“I don’t know what it’ll take, Caiden, and I think I’m at the same point as you. I don’t think I care what it takes anymore as long as I get to have you. It all sounds so crazy.”
“It is crazy.” He chuckles as his hand squeezes mine.
“Caid, I don’t think I want to live in LA if you’re not there, but I have to be there for the movie. There has to be a way to slice up our time while I finish, no matter how long it takes, even if it’s a year. We can work on it, on us. I want to find the balance. That is, if you’re willing to work through my insane schedule for a while. It won’t be easy. You’re needy. I’m needy. It’ll be tough.”
He blinks a few times, absorbing my words. “Are you saying you’d be willing to make PineCrest your home base?”
I gulp down my nerves but can’t fight my reflexive smile as I exhale my honest answer of, “Yes. LA will always be there. You’re right, I can write here, and I can always travel to LA, even if it means longer than I’d like for work, but I want to be here with you. You’re worth it. It’s because of you my dream was able to happen. And if anything, I need you for inspiration.”
Caiden huffs, trying to hide his smirk. “You’re so terrible at being serious.” His hand grabs softly for my sweatshirt and yanks me forward, causing me to stumble into his chest. I can’t fight how much I want to be near him. I wrap my arms around him and breathe in his charcoal pine smell.
“I love you, Hailey. Now, let’s go or we’ll miss our flight.”
I pull back to flash my own look of shock. “Wait, what were we just talking about? I said I’d stay for you.”
He presses a placating kiss to the tip of my nose. “This is your dream, babe. I’m not going to let you throw that away for me. Just because we agreed we’d make this work doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be willing to sink to groveling to my boss for a couple weeks off so I could support my girl.”
“Grovel?” I squeal excitedly.
“Grovel,” he confirms. “And I’m on kitchen duty at the station for a month after I get back.”
“You groveled for me?”
He rolls his eyes. “Don’t ruin the moment, Hailey.”
I laugh, grab for the collar of his shirt, and pull him into a kiss, knowing that not only do we finally get our happily ever after, but I’ll write us a sequel, too.
About the Author
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Other Titles by Alex Rosa
Tryst
Entangled
Rash Decisions
Fahrenheit
Emotionally Compromised
