Page 76 of The Story Between Us

“He’s writing really well, actually. I think he hit twenty-five thousand words into his story yesterday. And he’s been steady since then. Chapter seven yesterday.” Livvie couldn’t keep the pride out of her voice. “He’s going to finish. I really think he’s going to finish. Maybe not by the deadline, but he’ll finish.”

Meg said nothing, the hum of the coffee shop behind her. The contrast hit Livvie like a wave—all that noise, all that chaos, while she sat in this quiet corner with lake light streaming through the windows.

“You sound different,” Meg said finally.

“Different how?”

“I don’t know. Lighter. Happier.” A pause. “Livvie. Is something going on with this guy?”

“What? No.” Oops. The denial came too fast. She heard it. Meg definitely heard it, given the arch of her brow. “It’s professional. He’s a client. I’m just here to help him finish his book.”

“And the library? What’s that about?”

Livvie looked out the window. The lake glittered in the morning sun, and somewhere across the water, Nate was at his desk, building worlds out of words.

“Emma was my friend too,” she said quietly. “And in a way, this is me…saying goodbye. Maybe healing. And I think…I think I’m actually helping him too. For once in my life, I feel like I’m making a difference that matters.”

Meg’s expression softened. “Liv. You always make a difference. You’re just usually too busy letting other people take the credit to notice.”

“That’s not⁠—”

“It is. It absolutely is.” Meg leaned closer to the camera. “But listen to me. Be careful, okay? I know you. You care too much. You give too much. And if this guy breaks your heart⁠—”

“He’s not going to break my heart. It’s not like that.”

“Okay.” Meg didn’t look convinced. “Just…remember you have a life here too. A job. Friends who miss you. Richard asked about you, by the way. He’s not happy.”

The mention of Richard sent a cold finger down her spine. “What did he say?”

“Just asking where you are, when you’re coming back. You know how he gets.” Meg glanced at something off-screen. “Listen, I have to go—meeting in ten. But call me, okay? Don’t disappear into dragon-painting land and forget about us mere mortals.”

“I won’t.”

“And Livvie?” Meg’s face was serious now. “Whatever’s happening out there—you deserve it. You deserve to be happy.”

The call ended before Livvie could respond.

She sat for a moment, phone in her lap, looking at the mural. The dragon watched her back, patient and knowing.

It’s not like that, she’d said.

But it was starting to feel like something, wasn’t it?

She cleaned her brushes and packed up her supplies, leaving the paints for tomorrow. Four days until the festival. Four days to finish the baby dragon, the window seat castle, the final touches that would make this space complete.

A week until she had to figure out what came next.

Outside, the September sun warmed her face, the air carrying a crispness that meant fall was truly arriving. She walked toward Main Street, past the festival banners—MAPLE LAKE FLANNEL FESTIVAL – 4 DAYS!—and the General Store with its window display of plaid everything.

Her phone buzzed with an email notification.

She almost ignored it. Almost kept walking. But something made her glance down, and the subject line stopped her in her tracks.

RE: Your notes on my manuscript

The young writer. The one whose manuscript Richard had rejected, the one she’d responded to with her own notes attached. She’d almost forgotten.

She opened the email standing on the sidewalk, people moving around her, the smell of maple and cinnamon drifting from somewhere nearby.