I glance back at her dad, who stays in the kitchen, drinking his beer and not saying anything as he watches us walk out of his house. I stupidly hold a hand up as if to wave goodbye, but he doesn’t even acknowledge it and as the front door closes behind us, it suddenly occurs to me that none of this is going to be as easy as we thought.
“Fuck,” Nora breathes out, dropping my hand as she shoves both of hers through her hair.
I watch as she paces in a small circle on the front porch, clearly frustrated and pissed off.
“Hey,” I say, reaching for her. She looks at me, her eyes wide and her jaw clenched. “Come here,” I say, offering her a small smile.
I pull her into my arms, wrapping them around her as I pull her body into mine. She buries her face in my neck, her hands gripping my hips as we stand in silence on her dad’s front porch.
“He just needs a second to get used to this,” I eventually say, my mouth at her ear.
“Why?” comes her muffled voice.
I exhale, running my hands up and down her back. “It’s different for us, Nora,” I tell her. “This is our story and our love and we both know people have never understood it.”
She pulls back now, her eyes shiny with tears as she looks up at me. “Maybe we’re wrong?” she whispers, and I watch as a tear falls down her cheek.
I brush it away with my thumb, shaking my head as I say, “Does this feel wrong to you?”
“No.”
I smile, leaning in to kiss her lips. “Then it’s not wrong,” I tell her.
She presses herself against me, her mouth on mine as she murmurs, “I just wanted him to like you.”
“I know,” I say, brushing her hair back. “Just give it time though, okay. It’s gotta be a shock for him.” I kiss her again before pulling back, wishing it could’ve been as easy as she’d hoped. “Come on, let’s go do something fun.”
Nora swipes at her eyes, offering me a small smile. “Okay.”
Taking her hand, we walk back to the car, Nora sliding in behind the wheel. She starts the car, backing out of the drive in silence. I don’t ask where she’s going and we spend the next ten minutes not talking at all.
“So, what do you want to do?” she eventually asks, glancing over at me.
I smile, reaching over to rest my hand on her thigh. “Wanna head into the city, maybe do some touristy shit again?” I ask.
She shrugs, even as she says, “Okay.”
I reach for the radio, turning up the volume, just to have something to fill the silence in the car as Nora navigates her way into the city. After she’s parked, we both get out of the car and I walk around to her side, slipping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close.
“I could eat something,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to her temple.
“And maybe a drink,” she mutters as we walk out of the parking garage.
We end up in an Irish pub in the South End and it’s not until we’re sitting down with a pint each in front of us that I reach for her hands across the table and say, “So, you wanna talk about it?”
Nora’s eyes meet mine and I can see the sadness in them. “I don’t even know what to say at this point,” she starts. “I really thought he’d be happy for us.”
“Maybe he just needs some time to get used to the idea?” I suggest.
She shakes her head. “He’s had time. He’s known about you. He’s read our book. He’s…”
“Yeah, but babe,” I say, gently squeezing her hands. “He hasn’t lived us, has he? Not like we have.”
She lets go of one of my hands and takes a sip of her beer. “Do you think we’re making a mistake?” she asks, her voice quiet as her eyes drop. It’s that question again.
I reach over and tilt her face back to mine. “Do you?” I ask, throwing her question back at her.
She licks her lips, her eyes searching my face. For a second, I start to doubt her, start to wonder if she’s going to say yes and that this has all been one giant fuck up. But then she shakes her head. “No,” she whispers. “I don’t.”
I smile at her, brushing my thumb across her bottom lip before pulling my hand back. “Good, because neither do I. We just need to give people time, Nora,” I continue. “But that doesn’t mean we let them make us question what we’re doing or what we’re feeling, okay?”
She finally smiles back at me. “I love how sure of us you are,” she says, her eyes locked with mine.
My smile widens as I half stand, leaning across the table to press a soft kiss to her lips. “I’ve spent twelve years looking for the woman who stole my heart on a beach in San Diego, Nora,” I tell her. “I love you,” I repeat. “And I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
I feel her hand as it slides to the back of my neck, holding me against her as she whispers, “I love you too.”
Chapter Thirty-Two: Nora
It’s been three days since my father decided to embarrass me in front of Elliot. I’m way too old to have him shame me for my choices and looking back now, I should have approached that whole situation differently. I should’ve told him I had found Elliot and I didn’t want his opinion about it, but instead I hoped he would’ve been happy for me. I’m moving forward with continuing things with Elliot without my father’s input because it’s not needed.
He can hold a grudge for the next five years or ten years or whatever he wants, but he knows eventually he’ll need to get on board. Things aren’t going to change with Elliot and me. At least I don’t want them to. I understand how hard this is going to be, but I’m willing to put in the effort. I just wish my dad was as well.
I do know another person who will be thrilled with the news and once she passes it along, it will spread like wildfire. My agent has been waiting for this day since I turned my manuscript into her and along with her, all my readers have been, too. There’s just something about a love story coming true that pulls at the heartstrings of people, how as a society we root for the broken and lost to find that one someone.
Elliot and I have found each other.
We’re heading to my agent’s office today and with book two already in the works along with an additional three-book contract, things are feeling a little better. I have plotted the rest of mine and Elliot’s story and already have ideas for what will come next. Finding him was quite possibly the best thing for my mental health and also my writing. I feel empowered and creative, and Elliot’s words continue to repeat in my head.
write what you love.
“Are you ready to meet the person who made all of this happen?” I ask Elliot as I finish slipping on my shoes.
“Absolutely. Without your book we never would’ve found each other.”
When I wrote what I loved with the encouragement of Alice’s words mixed with Elliot’s words tattooed on my arm, I found him. I stopped looking and I let my words bring him to me. Our story was told and people responded, catapulting my career, a career I longed for, and my life slowly came together.
We walk out the door, Elliot slipping his hand into mine as we head down the street toward the subway.