by Cindy Kirk
The words were too good to be true. He was too good to be true. And he really was. Of course he had flaws. Real flaws (not the charming ones he admitted to in his e-mails), the kind that might really, as Frank Sinatra sang, get under my skin someday. I couldn’t wait to get to know what they were.
“Hey,” he murmured into my hair.
“Hey, what?”
“Cinderella’s finally dancing at the ball.”
Our pacing slowed, no longer in tune with Frank’s beat.
Nate drew my body to his, slid his broad hands up my ribcage, and kissed me in the middle of the dance floor at my baby brother’s wedding. A fire-in-my-belly, light-headed, world-spinning, weak-in-the-knees kiss. The kind fairy tales were made of. I clasped my fingers around Nate Gallagher’s neck and kissed him right back.
Award-winning author, Katie Ganshert graduated from the University of Wisconsin in Madison with a degree in education and worked as a fifth grade teacher for several years before staying home to write full-time. She was born and raised in the Midwest, where she lives with her family. When she’s not busy penning novels or spending time with her people, she enjoys drinking coffee with friends, reading great literature, and eating copious amounts of dark chocolate.
YOU CAN LEARN MORE ABOUT KATIE AND HER BOOKS BY VISITING HER WEBSITE KATIEGANSHERT.COM OR AUTHOR FACEBOOK PAGE.
For the One who makes all things possible, even novellas.
Thank you for entrusting me with this ministry and for
equipping me to write each and every page.
Josh,
Since I broke up with you, I can’t stop crying. Can you please forgive me? I love you. I’m certain I’ll always love you.
Today would have been our eight-month anniversary. When you left for MIT a month and a half ago, I never imagined that we wouldn’t keep dating or that I wouldn’t see you again at Thanksgiving. The long-distance thing has been miserable but our marathon phone calls and our back-and-forth e-mails throughout the days were getting me by.
Now I’ve lost all of it, and I’m heartbroken without you.
Here’s what you don’t know and what I can’t tell you. Your mom came to see me. She drove to UT San Antonio, met me in my freshman dorm room, and took me to lunch. She cried, Josh. She cried because she’s so upset over the fact that you’re unhappy at MIT. She said you told her that you wanted to leave and come back to Texas to be near me.
She’s a single mom and you’re her only son and she loves you. My heart went out to her.
You’ve worked so hard. You’re a genius and you’ve earned the financial aid scholarship that MIT offered you. Please understand I don’t want anything to get in the way of that, especially me. You deserve to go there and you have to make the most of this opportunity because your mom can’t afford to pay for you to go to college anywhere else.
She held my hands and, with tears streaming down her face, asked me if I’d break up with you. She said that so long as we were dating, you wouldn’t be able to pour your whole focus and determination into your education. She said you’d always be torn between two places.
Maybe I should have stood up to her and refused to break up with you. Maybe I should have told you about my meeting with her, even though she begged me not to.
Your mom has always been wonderful to me, Josh. I respect her and I care about her and I couldn’t turn her down. So I called you and ended our relationship without giving you any good reason other than that my feelings had changed and that I wanted to be free to date here at UTSA.
My feelings haven’t changed, Josh. I don’t want to date anyone but you. And I can’t stand the fact that I let you think otherwise. Since our breakup, I haven’t taken your phone calls and I haven’t returned your e-mails and I won’t mail this letter. But it’s not because I don’t love you. And that’s why I can’t stop crying.
You might not know it yet but you’re going to do great things. I know it. I love you. And I’m very, very, very sorry for hurting you. Can you ever forgive me?
With all my heart,
Holly
“There is a time for everything, and a season
for every activity under the heavens.”
—Ecclesiastes 3:1
The moment Holly had imagined, dreaded, and obsessed over had arrived. Josh Bowen—oh, my goodness it really was him, Josh, um, holy smoke!—was walking toward her down Martinsburg’s Main Street sidewalk. Josh had returned to town temporarily, and thus, she was about to come face-to-face with her high school boyfriend for the first time in eight years.
Holly came to a halt, sensing the coffee inside the three to-go cups in the cardboard tray she held sloshing at the suddenness of her movement. Her heartbeat sped into nervous panic mode.
He hadn’t spotted her yet. She could dash into the candy shop and hide. Or maybe the children’s boutique . . . Only, she’d known for some time that Josh planned to visit Martinsburg, Texas, for Ben and Amanda’s wedding. She’d been giving herself pep talks about this very moment, steeling herself to confront him again, practicing, even, what she would say. She shouldn’t hide. She should deal with this, with him.
Thank God, she’d actually taken a bit of time on her appearance this morning. While her jeans, white top, and well-worn-in brown leather jacket weren’t what she’d have picked for this reunion, they were decent enough.
Josh.
He looked much like he had at eighteen, except taller, his facial features less soft, his whole bearing more international. He no longer dressed like a graduating senior from a small-town Texas high school. In a navy pea coat open down the front, gray sweater, and flat-front charcoal pants, he gave off a hip and urban vibe. He was hip and urban now. Since she’d seen him last, Josh had leveraged his brilliance into a ridiculously successful tech company and moved overseas.
A piquant mixture of sweet memories and bitter heartache rose within her.
He glanced at something in a store window, giving her a view of his clean-lined profile. Then he turned his face forward and his attention intersected with her squarely. His expression went blank. His stride faltered.
Oh, boy. Holly attempted a pleasant smile. God had been merciful to her by allowing her to see him first, at least.
Josh seemed to recover himself and continued toward her at a slower pace.
A good number of people, mostly tourists, strolled the sidewalk. At a quarter past ten in the morning on this third day of November, many of the shops on Main had just opened for the day.
Holly stepped to the side, close to a section of brick in between two storefronts. Here, they could say hello to one another without blocking traffic like a boulder in the middle of a stream.
Josh came to a stop facing her.
She could hyperventilate, say something, or run. She chose the second option. “Welcome back.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s good to see you again.” The intimacy they’d once shared had been as enormous as China. In the face of that, her paltry sentence felt as small as Luxembourg.
His brown eyes assessed her with a tiger-like intensity that caused all the things she’d planned to say to slide out of her brain. There was something in those eyes that hadn’t been there before. A shadow. A shadow of guardedness and hostility.
What had she expected? They’d loved each other once. Then, without warning or explanation, she’d shut him out of her life.
“Ben told me that you were planning to come to Martinsburg early for his wedding,” Holly said.
“Yes.”
Josh and Ben had met in the ninth grade, become best friends, and remained close. Ben’s dad had never been a part of his life, and Ben’s mom had always been overstressed and cash-strapped. Holly couldn’t imagine her handling any mother-of-the-groom responsibilities for Ben’s wedding. None.
So Josh had relocated to Texas from now until Ben’s Thanksgiving weekend wedding so that he could give his friend the kind of support that counted. Ben had told Holly that Josh had
taken over the planning and the funding for both the rehearsal dinner and the bachelor party weekend. Based on the Josh she’d known, his show of generosity and loyalty did not surprise her. “It’s nice of you to make the effort to be here for Ben.”
No affirmative reply.
“I’m Trinity Church’s volunteer wedding coordinator. Since Amanda and Ben have decided to get married at Trinity, I’ll be working with Amanda’s professional wedding coordinator behind the scenes, representing the church . . . Anyway, I’ll be helping out on Ben and Amanda’s big day.”
His tiger eyes continued to assess her with such absorbed concentration that her mouth went dry. Wrongly, her heart seemed to be gaining speed instead of steadying.
She bit the inside of her lip to keep herself from babbling about the wedding or—at all costs—from blurting out that she was sorry. These many years later, that’s what she most wanted to say to him. It was a sentiment that had often filled the letters she’d written him and never sent, how horribly sorry she was for ruining what they’d had, when what they’d had, she’d realized more and more clearly over time, had been rare and beyond price. “How have you been, Josh? I’ve heard you’ve done very well.”
“I’ve been okay,” he said carefully.
“I’m glad.”
“How about you?” He asked it seriously, like he actually cared about the answer.
“Great.” She gave him a bright smile. He was super smart. He could probably see through it. It was a smile overly, falsely bright. “I write young adult novels.”
“I know.”
“You do?”
“Yes.”
“I. . . .” How did he know about her novels? “I . . . really love writing. When I’m not on a deadline, or banging my head against my keyboard, or out of ideas. Which is most of the time.”
In answer, his lips indented upward on one side. Josh had a face perhaps a bit too angular and a nose perhaps a quarter of an inch too long to be considered classically handsome. His was an arresting face, grave and interesting, appealing to Holly in ways hard to define. His straight dark brown hair had fallen across his forehead when they’d been dating. Now it looked as though he warmed an expensive men’s hair product in his palms, parted his hair on the side, then combed it back with his fingers to keep it in place.
Holly held onto her cup tray like a kickboard in a choppy sea. She really hoped her mascara hadn’t smudged or that the sip of coffee she’d taken before she’d seen him hadn’t left whipped cream on her lip.
“How’s your family?” he asked.
“They’re all fine. None of them live in Martinsburg anymore. My dad sold his construction business so now he and my mom only stay in their house here a few months of the year. The rest of the time they’re at the lake house or their apartment in Austin cuddling Mark’s baby—did you know that my brother got married and had a little boy?”
“I did know.”
Was Ben filling Josh in about her the way that Ben filled her in about him? “And Jessica’s in law school.”
He nodded.
“So I’m the only one left in town.” She gave a little shrug as if to say, I’m still living in Martinsburg, despite that my parents, older brother, and younger sister have all moved on. But I really don’t mind because I like it here and I’m very content and secure. Very! “How’s your mom?” Josh’s father had died when Josh was twelve.
Warmth slightly softened the austerity of his expression. “She lives in Colorado now, near her sister.”
“Is she retired?”
“She can retire whenever she wants.” Which Holly translated to mean that Josh had set her up in such luxurious style that she’d never have another financial care in her life.
“But she doesn’t like to sit still,” he continued. “She’s working at a charity that helps unemployed women find work.”
“That’s good to hear.” Before Josh’s mom had moved, Holly had run into her around town from time to time. Each meeting had filled her with complicated emotions of affection and pain. She didn’t blame his mom for asking her to break up with Josh all those years ago. How could you blame a person for advising you to do the right thing, the thing that had become the springboard for all the success Josh had achieved afterward? On the other hand, Josh’s mom couldn’t have known how very much Holly had loved Josh or how much losing him had devastated her. So, deep in her heart, she couldn’t bring herself to hold his mom completely blameless, either. She inhaled, seeking calm, rooting around for another topic of conversation—
“Well.” He flicked a few fingers in the direction he’d been walking. “I’d better be going.”
“Sure.” She didn’t allow her disappointment to show as she edged closer to the wall to let him pass. “I’ll see you around.”
“Bye.”
“Bye.”
He moved off.
Somewhat dazed, she watched him go.
His steps paused.
She jerked her face toward her tray and made a show of straightening the cups.
“Holly?”
“Hm?” She pretended to be surprised to discover that he hadn’t left.
“I’m planning Ben’s rehearsal dinner and I need to find a venue. I’m not familiar with Martinsburg anymore. Would you be willing to help me look for a place?”
He was asking her for assistance? “Sure.”
He produced his phone. “May I have your number?”
She gave it to him.
“Thanks. I’ll contact you.” He nodded curtly, then strode down the street.
She was going to search for rehearsal dinner venues with Josh? Because of the wedding and the smallness of Martinsburg, she’d known that she’d cross paths with Josh during his time here. But she’d envisioned their interactions as short and formal. She hadn’t expected to spend real time with him. Or share real conversations.
She made her way along the sidewalk in the opposite direction, passing an art gallery, a wine shop, and a women’s clothing store before coming to the home furnishings store she lived above. A narrow alley between buildings took her to an exterior staircase. From there, a hallway led to her building’s three second-story units. She left Rob’s coffee outside his doorway. He worked late every night as a sous chef and typically woke around this time. She knocked quietly on Mrs. Chapel’s door. Her elderly neighbor opened the door the width of the inner chain she always kept latched.
“Here you are, Mrs. Chapel.” Holly squeezed a cup through.
“Thank you, dear. Did you remember to put in one and a half packets of sugar?”
“I did.”
“The cup feels cold.”
“Sorry about that. I ran into an old friend on the street. Just zap it in the microwave for thirty seconds.”
Mrs. Chapel patted the cup accusingly with arthritic hands. “If you’re going out again later, I could use a new pack of Depends.”
Holly laughed. “Now Mrs. Chapel, you know I’m just your friendly next door neighbor and coffee delivery girl.”
“Fine.” The old lady winked sagely at Holly. “I’ll guilt one of my daughters into picking up the Depends for me.”
“Good plan.” Holly dashed around the corner to her door before Mrs. Chapel could ask her to buy Ensure or Vitamin K.
She’d scored the best apartment of the bunch. It overlooked Main and boasted lots of windows and spacious everything: living room, kitchen, bedroom, bathroom. The moment she set aside her tray, she dug her phone from her purse and texted her girlfriend, Sam Sullivan. Lunch today, 12, Taqueria.
Josh continued along Main Street until he was sure he’d left Holly far behind him, then ducked blindly into a store. One sweeping view of the place told him that the shop sold Texas nuts.
The middle-aged woman behind the counter caught his eye. “Welcome. May I help you?”
“I’ll take whatever’s most popular.” He hadn’t come in for pecans. He just needed a few minutes of privacy.
“Certainly. Our hicko
ry smoked trail mix is our most popular item.”
“Fine.”
She held up an empty sack. “Two-pound bag all right?”
“Yes.”
Josh took up a position near the front window, his back toward the shop, his shoulder set heavily against the side wall.
There was a reason he’d avoided returning to Martinsburg.
And his reason had the most infuriatingly beautiful gray-blue eyes.
He’d spent his college summers taking courses and working close to the MIT campus. For the most part, his mom had come to visit him in Massachusetts. The few times he’d stayed in Martinsburg for Christmas, he’d gone to great lengths to make sure he never saw Holly.
Seven months ago, Ben and Amanda had gotten engaged and announced that they’d be marrying in their hometown of Martinsburg, Texas, population 10,000. Shortly afterward, Josh had made plans to return to Martinsburg for the four weeks prior to Ben’s wedding. So long as he had his technology with him, he could work away from his home base in Paris for up to a month.
He’d told himself it would be fine. He’d told himself that the thing with Holly had happened in another lifetime. He’d had seven months to get his head straight, to prepare himself.
Seven months hadn’t been long enough.
Eight years hadn’t been long enough, either.
“Here you are!” The store employee displayed the trail mix like a fine wine. “Our best seller.”
“Thanks.”
“Would you like to come to the counter for a nut tasting?”
“No. I . . . just need a minute to myself.” He gave her a level stare.
“Ah. Okay. I’ll have this at the register for you when you’re ready.”
He scowled back out the front windows.
Holly Morgan. The Holly who’d once been his.
Josh had never done anything halfway. It wasn’t in his makeup. He hadn’t done academics halfway in high school or college. He hadn’t done his business halfway. He’d always worked like a machine and still did. In fact, part of what had initially fueled him in his career had been his desire to prove to Holly that he was worth something, that she’d made a mistake when she’d cut him loose.