Page 74 of Under Pink Skies

What the hell did I need?

“Sorry,” I said, giving her a tight smile. “I’m not in the best headspace right now.”

“Pick a book,” Mari said, gesturing to the packed shelves full of cracked spines and foxed pages. “Sit down and read for a bit. Then we’ll talk.”

I nodded gratefully and my bag into one of the two teal velvet loveseats that framed an antique side table. It was a quaint space where people could sit and read, or in my case, escape the world for a few hours.

And that was exactly what I did. I walked to the romance section, closed my eyes, and blindly ran my fingers along the spines of the used book section until one felt right. I pulled the book out without looking at the cover and began reading without so much as glancing at the blurb.

“Brought you some tea, in case you were thirsty.”

I looked at the clock behind her desk. My eyes widened.

“I didn’t realize it was almost three in the afternoon,” I said, closing the book and giving her my full attention.

“Interesting choice, considering your circumstances,“ Mari said, gesturing to the book in my hands. I flipped it over to look at the cover, and sure enough, it was a romantic comedy.

“I didn’t read the blurb before I started reading,” I admitted.

Mari smiled, and the two of us fell into a comfortable silence as we sipped our tea. Greystone, Mari’s cat and Forest Grove’s unofficial mascot, came to rest at my feet. I reached down to scratch behind her ears and give her a pet.

“Did I ever tell you about my husband?”

I shook my head as I leaned back in my chair once more, taking another sip of tea. In all the years I’d been coming to visit Forest Grove Books, Mari had never volunteered that information, and I never felt like it was my place to ask.

“He served in Vietnam,” Mari said, leaning back in her chair. “He was one of the few from our hometown that made it back. It was only a few months after homecoming that his symptoms started. At first, it wasn’t anything that couldn’t be attributed to returning home from war—fatigue, fever, insomnia, but they got worse over the years. My husband had a gut feeling that something wasn’t right. A few weeks after our daughter’s fourth birthday, he finally had his answer. His cancer was advanced. The doctors gave him three years, and Jim lived for six. Several years after his death, the Veteran’s Administration finally classified his death as service-connected.”

“Agent Orange,” I breathed. Mari nodded.

“He’s buried up on Westfall. People look at my shop and wonder how it survives, given how small our customer base is.” Mari let out a small sigh. “It’s because of my Jim. I named it Forest Grove Books because it reminds me of the place we met, at the base of a tall evergreen tree on the outskirts of the Washington forest. I loved him almost my entire life.”

My eyes welled with tears. I took a moment to look—truly look—at the woman in front of me, who had more stories and experiences than I ever stopped to realize.

“You’ve been through so much.”

Mari took my hand in hers.

“Life can be unkind to those of us who love so deeply,” Mari said. “But that doesn’t mean the love we share isn’t worth it.”

I glanced away, unable to meet her eyes.

“You love your books where the hero gets the girl in the end, and you can’t see when your knight in shining armor is right in front of your face,” Mari said. I looked back up to her, ready to defend my actions, but she held up a hand and tutted under her breath.

“No arguing. Life has already separated you once. Go get him, Abbie. Love isn’t supposed to be easy. More often than not, it’s about learning how to make sense of the mess you’ve inherited. You were kids when you fell in love for the first time. That doesn’t mean you can’t have it now, when it’s heavy and exhausting, beautiful andreal.”

Mari reached up to wipe away the tears cascading down my cheeks. “Your mother loved you. She loved your father, too. The two of you were her entire world. She would want you to be happy. If you’re asking me, she would have been over the moon that the two of you ended up together.”

I let out a small, strangled noise and put my free hand over my mouth to stop a full sob from escaping.

“And one last thing, while I’m imparting all of my hard-earned wisdom on the younger generation . . . you don’t have to earn Connor’s love, Abbie. He has already given it to you, freely and without restraint. Go to him.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. I grabbed my bag and kissed Mari on the cheek as I stood to leave.

“Be careful, Abbie. There’s a storm coming,” Mari called after me. I frantically waved my hand.

Sure enough, I looked at the sky, and looming rain clouds darkened the horizon. I had less than an hour before the rainstorm arrived, and it would render many of the back roads impassable for the rest of the day. It was a risk taking my car on unpaved roads, but it was a risk I had to take. Time wasn’t on my side for this.

I probably looked like a crazy woman, dodging people on the street and muttering apologies. I forced my way through the early morning crowd to get to my condo, taking the stairs two at a time. I burst into my apartment, and as I threw my bag down and grabbed my car keys from the dish, I quickly realized that I didn’t know what I would say when I got there.

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