“You could?”
He steps closer, getting into my personal space. “Yes, but I’ve also watched you leave before. I watched you fade from my life. How do I know this isn't just you showing up at my door, wearing your best apology, telling me what I’ve dreamed about you saying for two years?”
“Because I’m not the same person. In some ways, I might be, and I’m still terrified about so many things, but I’m trying to be better. That’s the difference. I actually want to be the person you and the girls thought I was back in college. I’m going to be better, and I’m going to prove to you I can love you louder than the voices in the back of your head telling you it’s all bullshit.”
He looks down at me, his eyes hooded as the smallest smirk appears, then vanishes in a split second. “No.” He grabs the necklace on my neck and rubs the pendant between his fingers. “You’re not the same person you were all those years ago.”
I want to ask him how he can tell, but his breath on my face and his eyes staring into mine have suddenly made me forget every word.
“But we can’t just pick up where we left off,” he whispers, his face coming closer as he lets my necklace drop and traces his thumb over my lips. “If you want me back, Amelia, you’ll have to earn me.”
“I will,” I whisper back to him. “I’ll do whatever it takes to rewrite our story, Henry. I’m not giving up on us again.”
“Good. I am a writer, after all. I know how powerful words can be, but it’s the actions backing up those words that mean the most to me,” he says as he steps back from me. “Did you fly all the way here from England to tell me this?”
“No. I drove over here from Paige’s place,” I say as I try to hide my flushed cheeks.
“How long are you staying with her?”
“I’m not.” He tilts his head at me again, still confused.
“Then how long are you back?”
I turn around, heading back to my car, knowing I have to prepare myself.
“Amelia?”
“I’m back for good!” I say as I spin around, his smile overtaking his face. “Like I said, Hen, I’m not messing this up again.”
“Then I’ll leave the light on for you,” he says as he shuts his door, and I smile like an idiot all the way home, my music blasting, my windows down, and the wind in my hair.
It feels good tobe home.
37
“I didn't think she could surprise me anymore, but I guess that’s the thing about surprises—they come when you least expect.” —Untitled Henry Hayes Manuscript
I’vebarelyhadtimeto think or breathe the last few weeks between trying to polish off my manuscript, seeing my family again, and the signing event my publisher threw on me at the last minute.
Amelia has kept popping into my mind since she showed up at my apartment. If I’m honest with myself, she never really left to begin with, but the big declaration she made on my doorstep has left me smiling a bittoo much.
Obviously, it feels good to know she’s going to fight for us, but I’m not totally giving in yet. She needs to prove she can show up and stop running, but I’m not going to make it easy for her. I don’t know if she expected me to take her back the other day, but I’d like to think she’s smarter than that.
Either way, she has been answering me more, and she has even called me a few times to chat.
I shake my head of all thoughts of Amelia as I finish signing some copies. This event isn't going to be a huge thing because of how last minute it was. Not even my family is coming because they all had plans, which is fine. They’ve been to enough of my tour stops in Virginia to last a lifetime, but they were upset they were missing this one. It’s the two-year anniversary of my debut novel that went number one on multiple charts, and to celebrate, my publisher printed an exclusive edition that will only be on sale for a limited time.
And there’s even a bonus chapter at the end, as well as a few book club questions in the back for people to discuss if they choose to do so.
This event doesn't come with a question-and-answer portion, just the signing, but as I step out onto the floor and notice a long line of people swinging around the store, I smile. I can’t believe this is my job, that people actually read what I write. Today is one of the days I feel lucky for all the hard times writing has given me recently; no matter what happens in my personal life, writing will always be a place I can go to create something, even if it's just for myself.
That small ache still filters through my body at having nobody here to celebrate with me, but if everything works out, maybe Amelia can be by my side for these in the future.
“Thank you all for coming,” I say as I try to project my voice. Heads turn as they see me, eyes lighting up. It’s still weird having that effect on people, but I know I would look the exact same if I saw one of my favorite authors.
I start signing the book that started it all for me as people filter through the line, multiple people telling me they’re excited to see what I do next, which makes me equally excited and terrified. I just turned in the first draft last week after struggling with it forever. The trip to Oliver’s wedding helped more than I thought. I came home from it feeling recharged and full of complex emotions. The words eventually poured out of me as I sat at my desk each morning, and I couldn't believe I wrote as fast as I did.
Even Mitch was surprised. I ducked some of his calls a few times because I was too enthralled in my manuscript to stop. He also got an earful of what happened at the wedding when I eventually answered him. He was proud of me for sticking up for myself and my feelings, and even though he doesn't trust Amelia, he trusts I’m doing what I know is right.