Yours Affectionately,
-Liam Kelly
This morning, I finally had the courage to text him and thank him for the postcard. I haven’t heard back yet, and I don’t expect to for at least a few hours, if at all, what with the time difference and everything. But it’s the first text message I’ve sent him since I left after Caleb’s wedding, and it feels good. It feels like a solid start.
My phone dings as if on command, and I steady my racing heart and check it.
Caroline.
Someone else I haven’t talked to since Caleb’s wedding.
I haven’t wanted to let her shovel heaps of guilt on my head over the breaking up with Liam situation when I’m already buried under a mountain of my own making. I open the text so I can read through it quickly and delete it like I have all her others. I’m sure it’s just a petition to call her.
CAROLINE: Evie, please read your card soon. It’s important.
How does she know I haven’t read it already? That’s bold of her to assume.
I tap my pencil against my notebook, staring at my screen, and then back at the drawer where Caroline’s letter has sat since I came home. Screw it. I fling off the bed, opening the drawer.
My Paris checklist flutters out with a bunch of other papers. I glance at it, curious to see if any of my pros would alter the course I’ve set myself on.Think of the architecture; think of the history; you love the love locksis scrawled under a myriad of things in the pro column, right above the one that sticks out:Liam isn’t here.I chew on my lip, bringing the paper to my bed, crossing out the line with my pencil, and scribbling the same sentence under the “con” column.
A smile settles on my face as I sit back on the bed and open my mother’s envelope, pulling out the white card with a simple illustrated lily on the front.
Evelina,
Your father and I are so incredibly proud of you. It probably came to my attention far too late that your dream may not be the same as mine was at your age, but I hope this gesture will show you how much we love and support you.
We’ve been saving for your wedding since you were younger. It would have been an extravagant event that you probably would have hated anyway, to be honest, but I believe the money in the account is enough to help you get started on your business if that’s genuinely what you want. We want you to have it.
I blink, staring at the letter. I was still with Liam when Caroline wrote this, and she was just ready to give up on my wedding and try to support my actual dreams? Obviously, this doesn’t fix everything, but it’s one big-ass gesture in the right direction and helps quiet one of my final nettling hesitations. I don’t know if there’s hope for a healthy relationship with Caroline yet, but maybe I don’t need an ocean of separation anymore.
My gaze oscillates to the sheet where “Liam isn’t here” is scribbled in the “con” column, the postcard resting on my bed, and I look up at the sky with a smile. Good. Freakin’. Sign.
A familiar brick building with an alley café sits on the top of a real estate page of Portsmouth listings Mr. Kelly emailed to me.
Hope Paul is okay.
Last week, I reached out to Mr. Kelly and asked for help navigating the business side of this, and things escalated pretty quickly from there.
By “escalated” I mean he wants to fund half the shop and give it to Liam.
But he doesn’t want to tell him.
“Think of his face if he walked into the building and saw you. It’ll be like one of those big gestures in the movies.”
I’m not a fan of surprise attacking people, but I also don’t want to second-guess my new employer. He scares me.
Confident that no other building will do when I can have the Bean Pot’s old digs, I email Mr. Kelly backThe one on Market Street. It’s perfect.
My phone dings, and I smile, reaching for it, imagining all the endless possibilities that spot holds.
Liam’s name highlights on the screen, and my heart skips. We’ve texted back and forth since the postcard came two weeks ago, but it’s been mainly surface-level awkward tiptoeing and a lot of gushing about how cute Eli and Fionn are together.
LIAM: Coffee shop Paul won a million on some scratchers.
I exhale. As excited as I am about the shop, I was a little worried something had happened to Paul, so this is fantastic news.
ME: Damn, he hit the javapot!
