Page 30 of When Forever Falls Apart

In no time, Harry is ushering me into his portable office to finalize all the paperwork so I can drive my new car home today. I sign the contract and coordinate the funds transfer, unable to contain my elation.

With the keys in hand, my excitement becomes too much as I leap toward Elliot, wrapping him in a tight hug. “Thank you so much! I think I’ll name her Beatrice.”

Elliot chuckles softly as he embraces me back, his arms warm and welcoming. Something about him feels… comforting, like a hug from a long-lost friend.

“You do realize it’s a bit ridiculous to name your car, right?”

I pull back slightly but stay close, caught in his wistful gaze. “Don’t hurt her feelings. She’s new and deserves a bit of affection. As a thank you, I’d love to take you out to dinner.”

“You’ve said thank you,” he reminds me, cocking his head ever so slightly. “The awkward hug we just had was enough.”

“B-but…” I stammer, trying to search for a way to relay how grateful I am for his help. “What you did today, well, it means a lot to me.”

“Fine.” Elliot exhales dramatically, but then the corners of his mouth tease into a smirk. “But I’m picking the place. Chef’s orders.”

“Of course, Chef,” I answer, clapping with excitement. “It’s a date.”

Instantly, Elliot’s expression transforms, his confident grin faltering as a flicker of confusion crosses his features. Only now does it dawn on me that I carelessly dropped the worddate.

Great, my big mouth is frightening the poor little boy.

“Are you freaking out because I said it was a date, even though it’s not really a date? I mean, duh, you’re Eva’s brother,” I babble, my nerves bubbling to the surface.

“No,” Elliot shoots back, his tone quick and resolute. “I wouldn’t date you anyway, even if you offered me a million bucks.”

“Great comeback, genius,” I retort, rolling my eyes. “But seriously, tonight?”

“Tonight,” he confirms, his expression settling back into that familiar mix of amusement and challenge.

It’s not a date—just two friends sharing a meal as a small token of gratitude.

So why, all of a sudden, is my stomach fluttering at the thought?

CHAPTER 9Madelina

Beatrice is every bit as amazing as I imagined she would be.

With her sleek, sporty lines and glossy green finish, she glides effortlessly along the road, making my time with her even more enjoyable. Instead of turning up the air-conditioning, I keep all the windows down, and the wind whips through my hair, the summer breeze warm against my skin, while I crank up some Lana Del Rey in the background.

I woke up this morning and decided to tackle the mountain of errands on my ever-growing to-do list, beginning with a forty-mile trek to a supply store to gather cleaning products for the café. Billie provided me with the list, and though shopping for cleaning supplies is hardly any fun, being with Beatrice is a highlight of this mundane trip.

Upon my return to town, I swing by the bank to sort out my change of address, then find myself drawn to The Book Basket, the local bookstore, hoping to find some new titles.

“Hi Mrs. Winthrop,” I call out as I step inside, greeted by the comforting scent of aged paper and polished wood. “Any new romance titles in stock?”

The Book Basket is one of the two main literary havens in town. It boasts a charming selection, though Mrs. Winthrop’s inventory generally lacks the romance genreI crave. Considering she has six children, she’s no stranger to sex. Betty’s Bookshelf sells used books and they mainly stock nonfiction.

“Madelina Beaumont, what a pleasure to see you,” she greets me, adjusting her red-framed reading glasses that perch precariously on her nose. “I wasn’t sure if you’d return to town, but Iris mentioned your arrival.”

Iris, of course, couldn’t resist spreading that news. Luckily for me, I didn’t give her the whole rundown of my pathetic life.

“Yes, I’m back to help Eva at the café,” I respond with a smile, making a conscious effort to avoid any details surrounding the infamous wedding. “Eva is opening another store in Manhattan, so she’s been spending a lot of time there.”

“I’ve heard whispers,” Mrs. Winthrop says, her tone shifting. “And I’ve also heard she’s living with your brother. Unmarried.”

I purse my lips, unsure how to respond. “Yes, but in this economy, it’s all about making great financial decisions. I mean, who can afford a place on their own? It’s crazy out there.”

“I see.” Mrs. Winthrop raises an eyebrow, her judgment evident. “I doubt finances are a concern for your brother.”