Page 9 of When Forever Comes

“In all seriousness, you were always the one pushing me to keep at it. Except when it came to skateboarding, but that was a hopeless case.” His playful smile hasn’t changed.

“So I can take some credit for this? How about a partial share?” I wink, teasing him. But something flashes in his eyes. I’m afraid I’ve upset him, so I add, “I’m only joking. You deserve all this and more.”

His nostrils flare. I assume he’s angry, but he says, “So do you.”

“What?” I ask.

“You think I didn’t notice your gift and passion?”

Suddenly, I feel too hot. He means my stories. I caught him once flipping through the pages of one of my notebooks. It was a romance about a girl named Olive and a boy named Easton. Not the most subtle way of writing down my own dreams of a happily ever after with Weston Lockwood. I grabbed the notebook from him and closed it, holding it tight to my chest. The smirk he wore did nothing to calm my racing heart. If he realized the similarities between the characters and us, he never told me.

“Your way with words was exceptional. I hope you kept pursuing your dream.”

Embarrassment washes over me. “Privately, yes. Publicly, no.”

“You never published?”

“I wrote more for my own creative outlet, not because I thought anyone else would be interested in reading.” I don’t mention that not a single manuscript has been completed. Not since high school. Not since he left.

“If a guy like me, who hated reading, was invested in your characters, I know people who love romance would absolutely adore everything you write.”

“Thank you,” I whisper.

An awkward silence passes.

“Shall we?” West asks, motioning to the door. “I think I owe your sister an apology as well. Although, I think she recognized me.”

“I thought you looked like someone I knew but I don’t think my heart was ready to admit it.” I don’t tell him the full truth.

“I hurt you back then.”

It’s not a question, so I say nothing.

“I’m sorry.” He looks down at the floor, then back into my eyes. “I never meant to hurt you. But I had to leave.”

“Why?”

His expression is pained when he answers. “I just had to.”

“You’re not going to tell me?” I ask.

“I want to. I plan to. But let me just enjoy seeing you after ten years of being apart first.”

Anger replaces any empathy. I punch the button for the elevator and it opens.

As we step in, I whisper, “You’re the one who left.”

“I will explain myself. I will tell you everything, just give me time.”

“I’m only here for a week.” Although my heart is begging me to stay in the presence of the one who got away.Ran away. West ran away from you.Despite my heart’s pleas to hear him out and get lost in his dreamy eyes, I turn and look out the glass elevator at the shore.

“Give me this week.”

“For what?” I throw over my shoulder, refusing to face him.

“To convince you to stay.”

My heart pounds hard and fast at the idea of moving miles and hours away from home. But something inside me yearns to give West this chance, this week, to win back what’s always been his.

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