Page 96 of The Time It Takes
I open my mouth to speak, but she lifts her hand to stop me. “Let me finish, Willow. They’re great together. It’s not messy. I look at them and I can see it. They could be happy. She. Makes. Him. Happy.”
“I can make him happy too.” My voice is small when I speak and I’m not exactly sure if I’m trying to convince her or myself.
She stands. “It’s just something to think about before you flee back to New York.”
“You think so little of me,” I say dryly as realization dawns.
“You’ve given me nothing else.” There’s no remorse in her words, only straight venom.
I stand up too, so I can look her straight in the eyes. The woman who used to be my friend is now a stranger who only sees the bitter parts of me. I realize now that I’m not her friend at all in this moment. She’s Oliver’s and she’s only looking out for him. I have no other choice but to respect her for it even if it sickens me.
“Did you come here just to tell me that?”
She shakes her head. “I came here to tell you that I love you both too much to watch history repeat itself.” She steps closer to me, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. “He disappeared for an entire year when you left. He’s never been the same since. When you left, you took something from him and it’s not fair to dangle it back in his face if you’re just going to snatch it away again.”
I have absolutely nothing to say to that. I’m utterly speechless. Oliver had vanished too. Where had he gone for an entire year alone? I’m staring at the beach, too caught in a trance to notice that Phoebe is making her way back to her car. I stand, walking over to the top step to lean my hip against the banister.
She opens the car door and when she looks back at me, there’s so much pity in her eyes that bile sits in the back of my throat. This time, I don’t will it away.
“What’s going to happen when something goes wrong, and your first instinct is to run again?” she asks. “With her, he has a future. What could he possibly have with you?”
WHERE THERE’S RAIN, THERE’S A PERSON DANCING TO ITS THUNDER.
Ten years ago
Tonightwaspromnightbut I was sitting in bed with a tub of ice cream because I had just read the best and worst book of all time.
What was the point of a love story if the two characters didn’t end up together? What kind of monster would write something like that? Stacy Belcave, that was who.
My chest lightened some the moment I started eating the ice cream. I thought of Oliver’s hands, his mouth. I thought about his mouth a lot.
I pushed back the hair that was matted to my damp cheeks when I heard a knock on my bedroom door.
“Don’t come in!” I yelled lamely, not bothering to fix my appearance, and hoped that whoever was on the other side would go away.
The door opened.
When I saw that it was Oliver standing in a tuxedo, the tears came back in full force. The Quinn character didn’t know just how great of a guy Alex was. Yet, I still understood why she had to go. She was chasing her dreams and he was chasing his. Time sometimes does that to people—it gets in the way of the good stuff. Sometimes timelines just didn’t line up. I was almost hoping I didn’t get accepted into Juilliard because that meant I wouldn’t have to leave. It meant I could stay here, surrounded by all the faces I loved so much.
The book hit a little too close to home.
Oliver’s mouth turned down and the place in between his brows wrinkled as he took in my current state. He rushed forward and his arms were around me in an instant.
There was a dull ache in my chest from where I held so much hope for them and not only had they broken each other’s hearts—they broke mine too. So, I let Oliver hold me until I was ready for reality again. It was only words on paper, but that didn’t make them hurt any less. For a while it was real and now it was just another story that’d someday be lost in my head amongst all the others.
And that thought only made me cry harder.
“Is it the suit?” he asked in a light playful tone. “I know I look ridiculous. If it’s the suit, tell me and I’ll burn it.”
I shook my head and groaned. “You look hot,” I mumbled into his neck. I remembered the tub of ice cream that was now being squashed between us and leaned back.
His eyes searched mine as he pushed my hair away from my cheeks, tucking the damp strands behind my ears before wiping away my tears with his thumbs.
Oliver grabbed my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. “Who do I have to kill?”
My bottom lip trembled despite wanting to smile. I inhaled a pathetic sniffle and without looking, I pointed to the book I threw on the floor next to me. His eyes followed the movement, and he sucked his teeth with a nod before standing, straightening the lapels of his jacket. He scooped the book off the floor and dangled it between his fingers.
He pointed at it. “This is the culprit?”
