Page 63 of How to Write a Rom-Com

“Hi,” I say, dropping the bag by the front door. “Of course. This is your house. I am so sorry for the mix-up.” I rub the back of my hand against my forehead, exhausted by the events of the last hour. My whole body hurts, like I have the flu, only worse somehow. I feel like I could close my eyes and fall over, which is not a great feeling considering I have a very long drive home. I’m going to need some coffee.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I always said that Anne was a scatterbrain,” Al mutters, carrying his fanny pack to the kitchen.

“Can we persuade you to stay the night, and drive home tomorrow? You look a little—” Mella starts, but her voice fades and she gives me a pitying look.

“Like hell,” Al finishes for her.

“Al!” Mella yells, way too loudly.

“I don’t mean it offensively. But you certainly look like someone who has had a tough day,” he says, holding his hands up apologetically. I let out a mock laugh as Mella shakes her head at him.

“I guess that’s one way to describe it,” I quip, turning my head to look out the windows, gazing at Liam’s house.

“Don’t pack the car yet,” Mella says, taking a step toward me. I look at her, questioning. “I don’t mean to overstep,” she adds, her hands out like she is cautioning me against something. “I don’t know what happened between you two, but I’ve known that boy for his whole life. You shouldn’t give up on him that quickly,” she says, a hint of sadness in her voice.

“I’m not giving up on him,” I say softly, taking her hand in mine.

“At least let him know you’re leaving. It can’t hurt.”

I blow air out through my lips, my stomach clenching with anxiety at the thought of walking across the street and talking to Liam. I look back at Al and Mella—Al shrugs his shoulders at me, but Mella looks at me encouragingly. I don’t know what makes me do it, but I reach out and embrace Mella, much to her surprise. Hudson Hollowhaschanged me; I hug people I barely know now. Whew, who would have thought?

I don’t make it more than two steps down the porch when I realize that Liam’s Jeep is no longer in the driveway. My shoulders deflate so heavily, I’m sure I might crumble to the ground. He’s gone.

None of this was supposed to happen. There wasn’tactuallysupposed to be a perfect small-town man that could lure me away from all my problems in the big city. He wasn’t supposed to look like a rugged, young Brad Pitt, and be the nicest, most caring person I’ve ever met. I feel like a balloon, the air inside me slowly deflating. A million thoughts race across my mind, all the what-ifs and maybes. But what’s done is done now, and I have nowhere to go but back to my old life.

*

I sit on the shoulder of the Highway of Hurling for a long time before I have the strength to keep driving. The rain is coming down even harder now, drumming against the roof and the windshield, the perfect cherry on top of this nightmare day. At this point, in this joke of a romance novel that has become my life, itshouldbe raining. It seems unbelievable that I’m actually sitting here, a month or so after Anne sent me on this crazy expedition, in her car, 100 miles away from home, crying over a man I met a month ago.

This was my chance, and now I’ve let my very own happily ever after slip out of my grasp. Now I’m headed right back to where I started.

The hole in my stomach grows deeper as I drive down the main street of Hudson Hollow. I bring the car to a near halt outside of Liz’s. I try to force myself to keep going, but it’s like there’s a magnetic pull dragging me toward the building. I scan the parking lot, realizing that the Jeep I’m looking for isn’t there.Heisn’t here.

And then I see Jill.

She’s helping the kids out from the backseat of her car. As soon as she lifts Robbie, he bolts toward the restaurant. Mia follows close behind, and my heart squeezes as I watch her carefully navigate the steps, cradling a baby doll in her arms that’s almost the same size as her.

I think about the character sketch I wrote yesterday on the hero’s cousin who lives next door. The character came out sounding just like Jill. From the first day I met her, I knew she was someone just trying to keep everyone afloat. But by no means was she the type to wallow in self-pity. Even when we spoke at Nora’s party, she said her husband leaving was more inconvenient than heartbreaking. I envied her bravery. She was confident in a way I feel like I will never be.

I pull into Liz’s parking lot and park beside Jill’s car. When she notices me, she smiles, warm and friendly.

“Hey, Luce,” she says, slinging her pocketbook over her shoulder.

“I have to tell you something,” I blurt out. Not my most glamorous intro.

She brushes a blonde curl out of her eyes and looks at me with concern.

“Is everything okay?” She looks inside, checking for the twins, who we can both see seated in a booth by the window. They’re pressing their faces against the glass at us. Robbie’s tongue is out.

“No, er, yes everyone isphysicallyfine, but…”Ugh, why am I like this? I take a deep breath, trying to maintain eye contact as I explain the whole situation. “I haven’t been completely honest about why I’m here.”

I try to explain everything as succinctly as possible. I tell her about Anne, about the research, about Liam finding my notes. My voice becomes hoarse when I get to that part. Jill doesn’t interrupt me but she looks confused, twirling her keys around her finger.

“Wait, I don’t get it. You’re writing a book?” she asks when I finally stop talking.

“Not me, no. I came here to get ideas for someone else’s book,” I explain, hanging my head in shame as I speak.

“But why lie about it?” she asks, as if it’s the most obvious question in the world.

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