She was releasing. She was healing.
Chelsie was letting go.
“It’s okay,” Noah whispered, his tone softening with concession. He rested his cheek against the top of her head while his fingers stroked her hair. “It’s okay.”
They stood in the alleyway clinging to each other for a long time. When Chelsie pulled back, she gazed up at him with a sense of absolution. “I’ll always love you, Noah. I’ll always be rooting for you. But I have no regrets.”
Noah moved his hands to her neck and pulled her in once more, placing a tender kiss against her forehead. “I’m rooting for you, too.”
They held each other a while longer, old memories passing through them both. The hum of the streetlamp was the background music for their dance of reprieve. When the chill of the autumn’s night got the better of them, they headed back into the pub for one last drink together. They sipped on whiskey and shared stories of their abundant lives. Noah spoke of Beth with the same spark in his eyes that had once been reserved for her. It becalmed her in a way. It solidified what she had known all along – she had done the right thing.
When ‘last call’ was announced, they finished their stories and their whiskey, and exited the pub. And as they stood in that familiar and painful spot on the sidewalk, they made new memories there. A memory of goodbye. A real goodbye – one that Chelsie had taken from Noah all those years ago. She hugged him tight, burning the scent of his skin into the marrow of her bones. This was the end of their song. This was their final note.
But the thing about songs is that they never really die. Months, years, even decades will go by, and that song will still play. Songs were never lost. They were never truly over.
A song lived on forever.
Epilogue
Noah stepped inside his front door, dropping his keys onto the entry table. They clinked against the glass surface, and Noah hoped he hadn’t woken Beth or the boys.
The house was dark and quiet as he descended the staircase, his footsteps heavy. New photos adorned his hallway walls, a constant reminder of the beautiful life he had made for himself. As Noah stepped inside the bedroom with tired feet, he used the flashlight on his phone to light his path. Beth lay curled up in their bed, wrapped tightly in the sheets and blankets. Noah couldn’t help but smile at how peaceful she looked.
As Noah peeled off his jacket, his eyes were drawn to the small drawer of his nightstand. He hesitated, then approached the side of the bed and sat down. The mattress sunk beneath his weight. He carefully opened the drawer, glancing at Beth as the hinges creaked in rebellion. She stirred for a moment and then fell still. Noah reached inside the bedside drawer and pulled out a piece of green construction paper. He pressed it between his fingertips, memorizing the feel of its coarse and pulpy texture. He turned his cell phone towards the paper and watched as the words were illuminated under his gaze. Noah’s breath hitched in his throat as his eyes read over the familiar handwriting.
Dear Noah,
I’m not sure how I’m supposed to fit everything in my heart into one letter, but I’ll try. You’ve probably noticed by now that I’m gone. I know if I tried to tell you this in person, you would convince me to stay and I would give in. I’m weak when it comes to you. I suppose we are all weak when it comes to love.
I do love you. I love you so much I’m sitting here sobbing as I write this, second guessing myself with every stroke of my pen. But I need to do this. I can’t be with you, Noah. I can’t be with anyone right now. I’m broken, and I don’t want to hurt you.
I know that sounds contradictory. I’m hurting you with this letter. But that’s not what I mean. I’m talking about the dark, ugly hurt. I can’t possibly make you happy if I can’t even make myself happy. I know you probably can’t see it because you are consumed with anger. But I promise… one day you’ll understand. One day you’ll see why I needed to do this. And only then, when you are exquisitely happy and your life is full of beautiful things, you will thank me.
You said we were a duet. I wish I could be your second half. I wish I could be a part of your perfect duet. But I am an aria. I am meant to fly alone.
I wish so many wonderful things for you. I hope you find love again and continue to make music. I hope all your dreams come true. I hope one day, when the anger has subsided and you are lying in bed with the woman you love, you will read this letter again. I hope you’ll read it in a new light and see how everything is exactly as it should be.
Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. Thank you for believing in me when I couldn’t. Thank you for all the nights you stayed up with me as I bared my soul to you. Thank you for the movie dates, the homemade pancakes, the laughs over whiskey, and everything in between. Thank you for Sam.
I love you, Noah. No matter what happens, you will always be the only song in my heart.
You will be my aria.
Love, Chelsie
Noah stared at the jaded green paper for a long time before tucking it back into the drawer of his nightstand. He ran a hand over his weary face, visions of Chelsie filtering through his thoughts. He sat there in the darkness for what felt like a lifetime before pulling at the covers and climbing into bed. He scooted over to the opposite side where Beth was sleeping and pulled her close, nuzzling his face against her hair. She instinctively inched herself against him and squeezed his hand as she fell back into a quiet sleep.
Noah was happy – exquisitely happy. He loved Beth with all his heart.
Chelsie had been right all along.
When he closed his eyes, exhaustion overtook him, and Noah drifted off into a familiar place in his dreams. It was there that he found her. She was sitting at his kitchen table, shoveling pancakes into her mouth and laughing with Sam.
“Easy there, tiger,” he said with a wink.
Chelsie stood up from her chair and strolled over to him, her silk robe trailing languidly behind her. “I can’t help it. You know I love your pancakes.”
“And you know I love you.”
Noah kissed her mouth and he could almost taste the sticky, sweet syrup on her lips.
“Noah, our song is playing. Will you dance with me?”
He paused for a moment, trying to hear the music. “I don’t hear anything,” he said.
She grinned. “I do.”
And so, they danced in his kitchen to a silent song, holding each other close and moving their bodies together in perfect time.
Chelsie laughed, her long, blonde hair cascading all around her as Noah spun her in a circle. She looked up at him then, her emerald eyes gleaming with unparalleled joy. Noah had always said he could get lost in those eyes.
And in his dreams, he did.
The End.
** The story continues with “Coda” – the second and final installment, due for release summer of 2020! **
Acknowledgements
Ten years ago, I began to create the little world of Chelsie and Noah. They were only seedlings at that time, pushing through the dirt, waiting to bloom. Luckily, they were patient, as it took an entire decade to write this book. After stopping and starting too many times (becoming a mother was quite time-consuming, I discovered), I committed to finishing their story late summer of 2019. I have my husband to thank for the push.
This leads me to my first acknowledgement. However, it’s less of an acknowledgement and more of a grand outpouring of gratitude. Jake Hartmann, I could not have finished this book without your love, support, and ongoing encouragement. I know love stories are not “your thing”, and you are not at all my target audience, but you read every chapter I sent you. You brainstormed with me, gave me your unbiased input, and even inspired storylines. You gave me uninterrupted time to write, helped me with the formatting and the techy aspects that are far beyond my interest, and – wait for it – you even photographed my book cover. Damn, I hit the husband jackpot. Thank you for always believing in me, even when – no, especially when – I struggle to believe in myself. I love you.
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To Nicole Vaughn, who is the gorgeous model wrapped in microphone cords on the cover of the book – thank you for your time, patience, kindness, and consummate professionalism. You are a gem of a human being and a friend. Thank you for always going above and beyond the call of duty and for turning my book cover into a reality. (Fun fact: Her daughter’s name is Aria!) Thank you to everyone else who contributed to this book cover: Tim Wille, who graciously provided the shooting space and instruments, and Erin Laffey, who provided the wig.
Thank you to my editors and beta readers: Amanda Jesse (my partner in crime!), Ruth Dowling Coffman, Kate Aley, Molly Nicole, Megan Rusek, Danielle Grobe, Laurie Romano, Megan Lick, Deana Birch, Trisha Roon, Kelly Anderson-Kole, and LuAnn Meinheit Moon. This story would not have evolved or become the best version it could be without all of you. Thank you so much for your feedback and your willingness to offer critique and suggestions.
Special thanks to Kristina Mahr, fellow author and inspiration, for being the first to read my hot mess of a first draft. I am absolutely tickled you were able to see its potential. I appreciate all your invaluable advice as I navigate through the unknown world of publishing (and for your blurb expertise)!
Shoutout to my incredible community of Queens over at http://www.facebook.com/groups/145154332790534 - Thank you all for your undying support and encouragement on my writing journey. My online family means the world to me.
Thank you to my family – my children, Willow, Liam, and Violet. My father, Keith Lindquist, and his wife, Cynthia. My “second parents”, Marlene and Scott Bowers. And, always and forever, my late mother, Theresa Lindquist. You celebrated my terrible poems and silly stories from a very young age. I miss your wise words and encouragement. I miss your warmth and laughter. I miss you. I wish you were here to celebrate with me now.
About the Author
Jennifer Hartmann resides in northern Illinois with her devoted husband, Jake, and three children, Willow, Liam, and Violet. When she is not writing angsty love stories, she is likely thinking about writing them. She enjoys sunsets (because mornings are hard), bike riding, traveling anywhere out of Illinois, binging Buffy the Vampire Slayer reruns, and that time of day when coffee gets replaced by wine. Jennifer is a wedding photographer with her husband and an avid skincare junkie. She is a goal-setter (but not always a goal-getter), and she is a self-love enthusiast. She is excellent at making puns and finding inappropriate humor in mundane situations. She loves tacos. She also really, really wants to pet your dog. Xoxo.
Connect: [email protected]
http://www.facebook.com/jenhartmannauthor
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