Page 28 of The Story Between Us

“What did you expect?”

The question unseated her. Huh. “I don’t know. Maybe…a smile? A ‘glad to see you’?”

“You came here to remind him of his failures. That feels a little like an ambush.”

It did, didn’t it. “I guess I thought he’d remember that we were friends—all of us. And that maybe I was on his side.”

“Did you tell him that?”

“No.” Livvie wrapped her hands around the mug. “I thought…I don’t know what I thought. That he’d remember on his own, maybe.”

Lila made a sound that might have been a laugh or might have been a sigh. “Sweetheart. That man hasn’t looked anyone in the eye in three years. He orders his groceries online. He gets soup delivered from the deli because leaving his house requires too much. You think he’s got the capacity to untangle his feelings when the girl he once crushed on, who is also a representative from his agency, shows up to root out his missing manuscript? The man can barely remember to shower.”

“Wow. Thanks. Very comforting. And he most certainly didn’t have a crush on me.” Except her heart had heard that part, thank you very much. Shoot.

“Whatever. I saw how he used to look at you. But yes, that was then, this is now, and I’m not here to comfort you. I’m here to give you cider and tell you the truth.” Lila leaned back in her chair. “Nate Rivers is a mess. The whole town knows it. June Bellamy brings him casseroles he doesn’t eat. Mayor Gillson has been trying to get him involved in the Flannel Festival for three years—they want to dedicate a reading corner in the library to Emma. Did you know that? Emma started building it, but it still sits half finished. Just waiting for someone to care enough to complete it.”

Oh.

“He doesn’t leave that house,” Lila continued. “He doesn’t talk to anyone. He just sits in there with his dogs and his grief, and every few months, someone from New York calls to yell at him about a book he’s never going to finish.”

“It’s not never.” Livvie’s voice came out sharper than she intended. “He’s not—he’s capable. He just⁠—”

“Just what?”

“Just needs someone to…” She trailed off, not sure how to finish. Someone to what? Believe in him? Push him? Refuse to let him disappear?

Lila studied her for a long moment. Then. “I see. The crush. You still have feelings for him.”

“I don’t—that happened seven years ago. One almost-kiss. It meant nothing.”

“Mm-hmm.” Lila’s tone suggested she bought none of it. “And yet here you are, in my kitchen, looking like someone just put your heart through a blender because a man you definitely don’t have feelings for asked you to leave.”

Livvie opened her mouth. Closed it. Took a long drink of cider because it proved easier than answering.

“So,” Lila said. “What’s the plan?”

“I don’t have a plan. I had a plan. The plan—show up and be compelling—failed spectacularly.”

“Then make a new plan.”

“It’s not that simple⁠—”

“It’s exactly that simple.” Lila stood, moving to the window that looked out over the lake and, Livvie knew, directly at the green Craftsman house next door. “You want to help him. Fine. But you’re not going to do it by knocking on his door and hoping he lets you in. He’s had three years to build walls. You need to find a window.”

“That sounds vaguely illegal.”

“It’s a metaphor.” Lila shot her a look. “Drink your cider. We’ll figure something out.”

They moved to the living room because Lila believed difficult conversations required comfortable seating. Livvie curled into the corner of the leather couch while her aunt settled into an armchair by the window—the window that, Livvie couldn’t help noticing, offered a clear view of Nate’s house through the trees.

“Tell me about your life,” Lila said. “The parts that don’t involve brooding authors. You don’t come to visit me anymore, and I’m trying to forgive you for that.”

But she winked.

“Sorry.”

“I get it. Life is busy. Tell me about the bright lights, big city.”