Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 104657 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104657 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Everleigh’s barndominium is dark blue with black trim and huge windows. I knock on her Airstream door, but there’s no answer, so I head toward the barn, slowly opening the unlocked front door. Stacks of wood studs, plates, and headers fill the center of the space. Everleigh is in the far corner, next to a miter saw, marking a board with a pencil and then sliding it behind her ear. She’s dressed the part, in faded jeans, brown work boots, a red flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a bandanna holding back her hair. Who would have thought this version of a woman would turn me on the most?
“Coffee?” I hold up the latte I grabbed on the way here.
She looks at me and slides her safety glasses onto her head.
Really. This is so weird. I can’t reconcile the vision of her in a doctor’s coat and dressed to frame the inside of a barndominium.
Her smile reaches her ears as she scuffs her boots along the concrete floor toward me.
“You’re a pleasant surprise.” She takes the drink from me. “Thank you.”
“It feels like an overdue visit,” I say, surveying the cathedral ceilings and partially framed walls.
“What’s that look?” she asks, bringing the cup to her lips.
“You build shit.” I grin slowly, shaking my head.
“I know.” With a flirty smirk, she lifts her shoulders. “What can I say? I’m the perfect woman for you, but you never got the memo.”
Oh, I got the memo.
“Heated floors?” I bend down and feel them.
“Of course.”
“Nice.”
“Want to see the plans?” she asks, turning toward the pile of wood with papers and food wrappers atop it. She brings up the plans on her tablet and shows me.
“You’re doing all of this yourself?”
“No. Maren and Ozzy have helped me. Lola too.”
I glance up from the tablet. “They didn’t mention that.”
“Because you insist they think of me as an enemy. So they don’t feel comfortable telling you the truth.”
I frown.
“Stop.” She chuckles, setting the tablet aside and sipping her coffee. “You moved to Somers. The world wouldn’t end if you told them the truth.”
I walk around, inspecting her work. It’s good. Really good. “And what is the truth?”
“Our love story has been beautiful and tragic. And we might not end up together, but not because we don’t belong together.”
“Love story feels a little exaggerated.” I open and close a window before facing her. If my circumstances were different, I might agree with her. Fuck it. I do agree with her. It was love. It is love. And it always will be. Maybe I love her too much to tell her how I feel because that’s all it can be right now. Words. Nothing else.
“You’re right,” she says. “My love story has been beautiful and tragic. Maybe your love story has yet to be told. If that’s the case, I envy the lucky woman who gets to be your heroine.”
I survey the space again, anything to avoid prolonged eye contact. “We’re all hiking today,” I say.
“I know. I was there last night when everyone was talking about it.”
“Would you like to come with us?” I risk a glance at her.
She lifts her eyebrows without saying a word.
“Clearly, Maren and Ozzy like you. Jamie works with you, and Fitz doesn’t matter.”
She grins. “Poor Fitz.”
“No. If you’re going to be friends with us, the first rule is you can’t feel sorry for Fitz.”
Everleigh curls her lips between her teeth and nods.
“Is that a yes to going?”
She wrinkles her nose and looks around. “I’m not sure because I really need to keep working.”
“I’m here until Sunday. What if I help you tomorrow before Friendsgiving dinner?” I don’t recognize the voice or the words so effortlessly falling from my lips. It’s as if I want her to go hiking with us.
“Careful, Will.” She grabs a broom and sweeps up sawdust around the saw. “If you spend too much time with me, you might miss me when you’re gone.”
“Stop beating this dead horse.” I squat and hold the dustpan.
“You used to be more of a romantic.”
“I used to be a lot of things.”
“What happened?”
I stand and dump the sawdust into the trash bin next to her saw. “My dad got sick. And it’s made me jaded and disillusioned. My mom’s watching him slowly die, and it’s an awful end to their life together. I think ’til death do us part is cruel. Sometimes, I want to tell my mom to get a train ticket and head as far east as it will take her. Find a new life. A new man. And close the book. This story is over. It’s not a happily ever after, so why finish?”
“This is the romantic part.” Everleigh bites the finger of her glove and tugs it off.
Why do I find that so sexy?
“Wanting to be with someone until one of you takes your last breath is the ultimate love. Anything less isn’t love. It’s lust. Infatuation. Maybe companionship. But love is when you can’t buy that train ticket because a part of your heart is bound to theirs until one of you takes your last breath. And then, in that moment of unimaginable grief, freedom is born. I imagine it’s like learning to walk again. A little unsteady at first. Scary. Lonely. Then one day, you realize Celine Dion was right.”