I was at a bar with some of our staff last month, and this guy asked to buy me a drink. I sat with him for a while but turned him down when he asked me out to dinner. No one can replace Beck, and I don’t even want to try. I have zero interest in dating or being with any other man.
Beck is the only one I want.
Which is problematic when he’s no longer mine.
Hadley is convinced Sarah lied. She tried talking to her but couldn’t get past the lobby at the Colbert building. Then she called Esther at college and left a bunch of messages, but Beck’s youngest sister didn’t return any of them. I’m not surprised they’ve closed ranks. Those three have always been protective of their siblings. However, my bestie is persistent, and she refused to give up. So, she reached out to Beck via the Byron Stanley social media pages, but that was a dead end too.
It seems Beck has hired an agency to manage his advertising, his inbox, and his social media, and there is no way of reaching him directly. Beck always hated that side of the business, preferring to concentrate on writing, and he values his privacy, so it doesn’t surprise me he has outsourced everything else. She asked them to pass on her messages, but we’ve had no contact from him. Hadley is convinced they didn’t pass anything on, but I’m beginning to think Sarah was telling the truth and Beck has moved on and put me firmly in the past. I wouldn’t blame him after the way I treated him at the end.
Hadley’s next suggestion was to fly to France and just show up at the farm, but I’m not doing that if Beck is shacked up with some other woman. I think that might kill me stone dead.
I forced Hadley to pinky swear she’d give up then before she was arrested for harassment or stalking.
Anyway, she’s busy now she’s gotten a new swanky job at a top legal firm. She was earning peanuts at the Seattle Public Library, and she has tripled her salary working as an information officer gathering research and data analysis and writing reports for a bunch of snooty lawyers and attorneys. She’s been at her new job for almost eight months, and she loves it. The firm is a gossip lovers’ haven, so she’s in her element.
After I moved back to Ravenna, Mike took over the lease with her, but they broke up three months ago when he proposed and Hads realized he wasn’t the man she wanted to spend forever with.
So, that’s how we find ourselves footloose and fancy-free on Friday night. I join her and some colleagues for one drink after work, ignoring the advances from several dashing men in suits to drag Hadley outside after an hour, before our night gets hijacked. We buy a couple bottles of wine and head toward Hadley’s new apartment where I’m spending the night. We’re going to order takeout and catch up over the latest season ofThe Crownon Netflix.
“Hold up!” Hadley shrieks, slamming to a halt on the sidewalk in front of a bookstore. “What the actual fuck!?”
“What is it?” I inquire, peeking around her. My heart jackhammers behind my rib cage when I spot the window and what has clearly caught her attention. We walk closer, in tandem, with matching slack jaws and wide eyes.
“Oh my god, Stevie.” Hadley clutches her chest as she stares between me and the big display behind the window promoting aNew York Timesbestselling new release.
I place my palm on the glass, blinking repeatedly, sure I must be seeing things. But nope. The book in the window is an autobiographical novel titledAuburn Sunriseby Beckett Colbert.
ChapterEighty-Four
Stevie
“He has poppies on the cover, and he wrote it in his real name.” Hadley sounds all choked up as she points out the obvious.
I’m glad she’s articulated it as I have currently lost the ability to speak, and I’m barely keeping myself upright.
Her eyes narrow, and her nose scrunches as she reads one of the large signs propped beside the book. “It details Colbert’s romance with the only woman who has ever, and will ever, own his heart.” She grips my arm as she scans the rest of the text. “It’s an enthralling, sweeping, heartfelt love letter to the woman he loves and a tour de force masterpiece that will warm even the most frozen hearts.” Hadley is fit to burst as she looks at me. “That’s from a top critic. Oh my god, Stevie.” She starts jumping up and down, garnering strange looks from people walking by. “It’s about you. I told you! I told you! I knew he wouldn’t give up on you.”
“Come on.” She drags me inside the store. “FuckThe Crown. We’re buying copies of Beck’s book and going home to read it from cover to cover.”
* * *
“Babe, you’re shaking like crazy, and I’m starting to worry you’ve lost the power of speech,” Hadley says as we’re perched on top of her bed, propped up against the headboard, cushioned by numerous pillows.
“Don’t worry, you’re talking enough for the two of us,” I tease. Hadley babbled nonstop the entire way home. A journey I barely remember walking because my heart was pounding so hard against my rib cage and my head is mush. I can’t believe this. I’m astounded and in complete shock.
Hadley playfully shoves me in the ribs. “He wrote you a book, Stevie. Not just a poem. A whole freakingbook!” She hops up and starts jumping on the bed. I look at her with part amusement and part fear. Has my bestie finally lost her mind? “He loves you. He loves you. He loves you,” she croons, and I swat her with a pillow.
“Get down here, you goofball. We don’t know anything until we read his words. For all we know, this is a love letter to some other woman.”
“Stop being silly.” She flops down on the bed, jostling the mattress. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”
“No, but I’m scared to hope. This is everything I have dreamed of every day of the nineteen months we’ve been apart.”
“Keep the faith, babe.” She snuggles into my side and hands me a wineglass before tugging on a lock of my hair. “He even named the book after you. Beck hasn’t written this book for anyone but you. I don’t need to read a word to know that.” A dreamy look coasts over her face. “He’s so romantic, and this is amazing.” She clinks her glass against mine. “To love and romantic men.”
My lips curl at the corners. “To love and Beck. Both are synonymous for me.”
Wordlessly, she hands me a book, and I stare at the cover as I sip my wine, tracing my shaking finger over each letter of his name and the pretty poppies.
