I laugh at the truthfulness of the statement. If only I would have listened to her warnings about him sooner, maybe I would have saved myself from a lot of heartache and self-doubt.
“Judging by what you all tell me about my missing years, I don’t think I fully healed from what he said. When I woke up from the coma, it still all felt too fresh. But I woke up, you know? I had a new appreciation for life, and well, I wanted to try and believe that passionate love could exist. That it could exist for me. I think it’s why I wanted to write the book so badly. It was a place for me to pretend that Esme could find a reckless, passionate, all-consuming love.”
“And then it became real,” Sam says slowly, catching on to where I’m headed.
“Then it became real,” I reiterate, pursing my lips and nodding. Tears push against my eyelids as I confess the truth to Sam. “And I’m scared, Sammie. Because my brain has been effectively manipulated into believing that kind of love is not real, yet there’s a real Noah. With a real love. And a real big heart. Full of romance. He makes me feel all the things, Sammie. Every night when we talk on the phone, I’m giddy with butterflies over what new thing I’ll discover about him. He sweeps me away even when he’s not actually here. I like hisvoice, Sam. I hate Bryan’s voice.”
We laugh, and the tears find their way through. “I just,” I continue through the stuffiness setting into my nose, “I like him. A lot. And I think I might love him. But that’s impossible because I’ve only known him for a couple of weeks. I’ve only been in his presence for less than that. And we haven’t even gone on a real date.”
Sam is quiet for a while, letting me lean into her side as she strokes my gross hair that’s in need of a serious washing. Finally,she says, “Love isn’t about how much time you spend with someone or the amount of dates you go on. Love is impossible to put into words. It catches you off-guard and defenseless when you least expect it to. Love makes sense of things previously unclear while muddling things you once thought you understood.” Sam laughs, pulling me closer into her. She smells of lavender and lemon; I can tell she was cleaning before she came here. “You know my story with Ethan. We were engaged one month after we started dating.”
“But the two of you have known each other y’all’s entire lives.”
“Never once did I look at him as anything romantic until he did that play with me on a dare. But Meme, when Ethan put his hands around my waist, pulled me close, and locked eyes with me, completely breaking character, I knew. Right then and there, I knew I’d marry him. I know it’s cliche, but it’s also true. When you know, you know. And you don’t know until you know.”
Do I know? Noah seems to know. I seemed to know when we were on the island. But now?
YES!
The word is shouted in my head like a crazed fan screaming at a Taylor Swift concert. But it’s not fictional Noah talking. It’s me.
Tears sober up fast. “Hypothetically, if I didpossiblyknow Ipotentiallywanted to marry him, how do I overcome the fear that, one day, he’ll stop putting in effort and I’ll expect too much?”
“You can’t know the future, Esme. But do you think the Lord will lead you to a married life full of blandness and boredom when you’re a woman whose heart and passion overflows more often than the Mississippi River?”
I don’t know,I want to say. Because if I say no, that’s admitting the Lord wasn’t responsible for Lane. I was. I chose to stay with him even when all the Holy Spirit told me to do wasrun. I chose to stay even when my family said they didn’t like him.
Instead of answering, I stand and pick up the black dress. It’s a sweetheart neckline number with a cinched waist and flare skirt made of rayon. Classy, feminine, and gorgeous. I hold it up to myself as I face my mirror.
“Sam?”
“Yeah?” She stands and looks toward the mirror.
“What shoes should I wear?”
A slow Grinch-style smile crawls across her face. “I think we’ll go with those glittering pastel orange strappy heels you bought on a whim and never wore. Since you like that color now and all.”
Noah’s Novel Notes
Chapter 7 ~
Esme. Lorraine. Jenkins. Baby, you are bringing the heat! I was blushing reading through that first kiss. I wonder if that’s how you really felt when we first kissed on the island. Do you still feel that way when I press my lips to yours? When I run my fingers down your arms? When I whisper how much I adore you into your ear? When I—
Okay, I paused to video call with you, so when you read this note, remember I stopped in the middle to call you and tell you how much I miss you right now.
On to the notes!
This chapter was a pivotal moment in BE’s arc. She wavers back and forth on whether she should have this fling with a perfect stranger (thank you, my very real Esme, for deciding to, by the way), ultimately deciding to go for it. It shows her emotional instability due to the external conflict present in her life, which is great. BUT. I fear many readers may not like my character and will surmise he is taking advantageof a heartbroken girl. To work around this, I suggest adding in internal thought and dialogue between the two characters that presents a different side to BE. Lean into the underlying character arc that BE didn’t truly love Ryan and that, while she is hurting from the embarrassment of the situation, she isn’t actually hurt by the loss of him. Does that make sense?
You’re doing amazing work, sweetheart. I am so proud of you!
Chapter Eighteen
At The Sunset ~ mid-August
“Bye, now. Love you. Have the best night ever.” Sam continues to blow me kisses as she walks out of my camper. Once she’s gone, I stand in front of my mirror once more, making sure I’m perfect.
The black dress sits about mid-thigh, hugging my upper body while giving flare to my bottom half. The heels are striking against the black, and though I feared I’d look too much like Halloween with black and orange, the color is soft enough to give a playful vibe to the look. Paired with gold bow earrings and a matching bracelet, my hair shiny and in a loosely curled high pony, I’m a vision if I do say so myself.
