Page 58 of The Story Between Us

“Does he have a name?”

Livvie considered. “Not yet. Maybe you could help me think of one.”

Addie’s eyes went wide. She looked up at Hazel, who nodded permission, and then she was across the room, standing as close to the wall as she could get without touching, studying the violet outline with the intensity of a museum curator.

“He looks kind,” Addie said finally.

Livvie’s throat tightened. “Yeah. He does.”

She set down her brush and checked the time. Nearly eleven. She’d been painting for two hours without noticing.

“I should get to Nate’s,” she said, gathering her things. “Bring him lunch. Make sure he’s actually writing.”

“How many words yesterday?”

“Three thousand.”

Hazel’s eyebrows rose. “That’s good, isn’t it?”

“It’s getting faster. He’s written as many as ten thousand in a day when Emma was…well, before. But it’s something.” Livvie smiled.

She pulled on her rain jacket, still damp from the walk over, and headed for the door. Addie waved solemnly. Hazel mouthed, Thank you.

Outside, the rain had softened to a drizzle, the sky still gray but gentler now.

The Brew was warm and crowded, the windows fogged with condensation. Livvie pushed through the door and was greeted by Mandie Garcia’s wave from behind the counter.

“The usual?”

“Please.”

She waited while Mandie made her latte—oat milk, no sweetener, her name spelled correctly on the cup.

“How many words yesterday?” Mandie asked.

“Three thousand or so.”

Eight days until the deadline. The math was impossible, but standing here in this warm shop with her name on a cup and her routine settling into her bones, the math seemed doable.

She grabbed her coffee and the sandwich she’d ordered for Nate and pushed back out into the drizzle. Her phone buzzed in her pocket as she walked.

She ignored it.

Probably Priya, fishing for gossip about whether Nate was as handsome as his author photo. Nothing that couldn’t wait.

It buzzed again.

She kept walking, past the General Store with its “Flannel Festival – 6 Days” sign, past Edie waving from the bakery window, past the workers stringing more lights between the lampposts.

Another buzz.

Fine. She pulled out her phone.

Three texts from Richard Ames.

Richard

Status update. Where are we on the Rivers manuscript?