Page 100 of The Story Between Us

She arched an eyebrow. “Well. He kissed me first. Technically. But I kissed him back. Enthusiastically.” Heat flooded her cheeks. “It was after we finished the outline. We were celebrating and he hugged me and then suddenly we were—and it was⁠—”

“Good?”

“Amazing.” Livvie pressed her hands to her face. “It was the best kiss of my entire life, but I have no idea what it meant or if he regrets it or if it was just adrenaline because the book was coming together or⁠—”

“Livvie. Breathe.”

She breathed.

“Have you talked to him about it?” Lila asked, her hands in her cardigan pockets.

“Are you kidding? I told him he needed to get to work, and I ran away to make coffee. I’ve barely seen him since. He’s been writing nonstop, and I’ve been here painting and avoiding eye contact like a mature adult woman with excellent communication skills.”

“Ah.”

They reached the edge of the square and sat on a bench overlooking the lake. The water was calm today, reflecting the trees and sky like glass.

“What if the kiss didn’t mean anything to him?” Livvie asked quietly. “What if I’m just…convenient? The person who happened to be there when he finally broke through the block?”

“Is that what you think?”

“I don’t know what to think.” She twisted the silver fox ring around her finger. “I don’t know anything anymore. Two weeks ago, I was sure about everything—my job, my career, my path. Now I’m sitting in a town I’d thought I’d left behind, painting murals and wanting to stay and falling for a man who might not even see me once the book is done.”

Lila was quiet for a long moment. Then, “Do you remember the first summer you stayed with me, when you were sixteen?”

“Of course.”

“You were so angry that summer. Your parents had missed your birthday—again—for some conference. You showed up at my door with your suitcase and your fury and you said, ‘Why don’t they see me? What’s wrong with me?’”

Livvie’s throat tightened. She remembered. Oh, she remembered.

“And I told you,” Lila continued, “that you weren’t invisible. You were just looking for your reflection in the wrong mirrors.”

“I remember.”

“You’ve spent your whole life trying to be seen by people who are looking in the wrong direction, sweetheart. Your parents. Your boss. All those colleagues who take credit for your work.” Lila turned to face her. “But God? He’s never looked away. Not once. He’s known you—really, truly known you—since before you took your first breath. And He’s been waiting for you to stop performing and start living.”

Tears pricked Livvie’s eyes. “What if I don’t know how?”

“You’re already doing it.” Lila gestured toward the library, toward the town square, toward the life Livvie had accidentally built in two short weeks. “You painted that mural because it needed to be painted, not because anyone would see your name on it. You’ve been helping Nate because he needed help, not because you’d get credit. You’re considering staying here because it feels right, not because it looks impressive on paper.”

“But—”

“You’re afraid,” Lila said gently. “I know. Afraid the kiss didn’t mean what you hoped. Afraid staying here is foolish. Afraid choosing joy over achievement makes you less somehow.” She took Livvie’s hand. “But here’s what I know about God: He doesn’t waste our desires. If He’s put this longing in your heart—for this place, for this life, for Nate—then it’s not an accident. It’s an invitation.”

Livvie looked out at the water. The sun was bright overhead now, painting everything gold.

“What if I accept the invitation and it all falls apart?” she whispered.

“Then you’ll have tried. You’ll have been brave. You’ll have listened to God’s voice instead of everyone else’s version of who you should be.” Lila squeezed her hand. “And that, my darling girl, is the only real success there is.”

They sat in silence for a while, watching the light change on the water. Somewhere in the square behind them, children laughed. The folk band played. Life moved forward, oblivious and beautiful.

“I’m terrified,” Livvie said finally.

“Good. That means it matters.”

“What do I do?”