Written on Her Heart (28 page)

Four months later…

Andi shut down her computer and closed her eyes, wishing she hadn’t seen the picture of him and Rachel side by side, smiling. Now she would never get anything written. It would take days to wash the image away, and by then, she’d be checking for updates again, only to experience a fresh wave of heartache upon seeing the latest news and being reminded she was no longer a part of Ford’s life.

She exhaled and scrubbed her face with her hands. She needed something to do to get her mind off of everything, but with both best friends gone—Carma had left town and skipped bail without so much as a word to anyone—Andi was left to her own devices.

Most days and nights were spent at her laptop, furiously writing and trying to ignore the pain that had taken permanent residence in the center of her chest. When she wasn’t writing or obsessing over Ford, she was alone. Even being in the farmhouse with her parents never seemed to fill the void that followed her around like her own private storm cloud, and on days like today, the loneliness she felt made her wonder if she’d made a mistake taking a semester off from school. Her reasoning at the beginning of the year had been simple: she hadn’t wanted to see Peter, and she wanted to wait a few months to see if she got a book deal. Come January, if she had nothing in the works, she would return to OSU and make up for lost time.

She scooted her chair away from her desk and glanced out her bedroom window. Over the last few weeks, leaves had begun to turn from green to various shades of orange, yellow, and red, falling like burning embers to the ground. It was late October, Andi’s favorite time of year, yet she felt no joy. And all she saw when she looked out at the fiery landscape was Ford’s face.

She often wondered how she could miss someone who had only been a part of her life for a couple months so much. Then again, her mother always said that when you found the one, you just knew. No explanations. No reasoning. Because love rarely made sense. And so Andi had stopped trying to explain away the loss she felt, the grief of Ford’s absence. Instead, she tried to avoid thinking about him altogether. Sometimes it worked and she could immerse herself in her work, getting thousands of words written in her new manuscript each day. And sometimes it didn’t. During those times, she obsessed mercilessly over the fact that she hadn’t heard from him, and worse yet, the fact that he was with Rachel and not her.

Had he really chosen her? Were they really a couple? Those were the questions that kept her up at night. The ones that plagued her, even in her sleep. The media certainly portrayed them as an item. In fact, the public had spun it as Ford being a player who broke Andi’s heart, then ran off with her best friend. Whether Ford had intentionally led them to believe that in order to keep them off Andi’s back was unclear. Candy DeWitt remained quiet on the subject, sticking to discussions only of Andi’s book and progress with publishers. According to her, more than one house was interested, and Andi expected to hear back from her any day. More than ever, getting a publisher was essential. Because if she failed at that, then she had absolutely nothing. She will have lost her dreams and the love of her life.

Andi sighed and stood up. She supposed she should eat something. It was after noon, and she wasn’t going to get anything done today. That much was clear.

She made her way out of her bedroom and down the stairs. Grabbing her jacket and purse, she went outside to her car. Maybe she’d go to The Oasis for a burger and a beer. It didn’t count as drinking alone if you had one with lunch, did it? Certainly not.

She unlocked the car door and got in. Her phone rang—a depressing ringtone that seemed to suit her perpetually morose mood—just as she put the keys in the ignition.

She took the phone out of her pocket, noting Candy’s number on the screen and answered. “Hello?”

“Andi, I’m glad I got you. I have some news.” Candy’s excitement resonated through the phone.

“What is it?” Andi asked, hoping it might be about Ford, but knowing it probably wouldn’t be. Still, she hoped…

“As you know, your book had interest from more than one publisher. I told you that they were going into a bidding war,
and
,” she said, drawing out the word, “it’s over. You’ve got a publisher.”

“What? Are you sure?” Andi took in the news, trying to process it. She had known about the bidding war, but hadn’t fully believed it. Could this really be happening? Could she actually have a book deal? All the years Andi had practiced her craft, all the years dreaming of this very moment, and now that it was right there in front of her, Andi had no idea what to say or do.

“I’m sure,” Candy answered. “And, Andi, are you ready for this? Are you sitting down?”

Andi dumbly glanced down at her seat. “Yes. I’m sitting.” This was it. This was the moment she had been waiting for. The one that carried so much weight.

She clutched the phone, her knuckles turning white, and as Candy began to speak, all the events of the last months pressed down on her, making this moment all the more significant.

“They are signing you for a two book deal, and they’re extremely excited to have you and ready to jump right onboard. And it’s a life-changing deal. Do you hear me? Life. Changing.” Candy paused and drew in a sharp breath, clearly enunciating her next words. “You’ve got a deal with St. Johnsbury Press for
seven
figures.”

Andi’s face crumpled and her pulse pounded in her ears as she did the math and tried to wrap her head around what she had just been told. “How much?”

“
Andi
,” Candy said, as if she were hard of hearing, a twinge of concern coating her words. “You’ve got a book deal. And it’s for one million dollars.”

Andi dropped her phone, her eyes wide. She could hear Candy’s voice coming through the phone by her feet, but couldn’t understand a word. The static in her head filled her ears.

I’ve finally lost it
, she thought, sure that she had gone over the edge once and for all.

#

Andi unpacked the last of her clothes, hanging the final garment in her closet. She glanced around the living room of her new cottage. The small lake house was painted a mint green and had a stone foundation that sat on a bluff by itself, overlooking the lake. It was small but beautiful and perfect for a single woman from a small town.

Single. The word left a bitter taste in her mouth.

The last few months had come and gone, the days melting one into the next until time had no meaning, confirming that success came with a price.

Andi had gone back to New York to sign her publishing contract with Candy. The trip had been unnecessary, but she’d harbored the small hope that she might find Ford there, waiting to congratulate her. But instead, she’d arrived to a deliriously happy Candy and associates. No one else. And when she signed her name to the contract, the one that sold her book rights to her publisher and solidified her dreams, the one that made her a wealthy woman, she couldn’t help but recognize how bittersweet the moment was. Because reaching your dreams and being successful meant only so much when you had to do it alone. Ironically enough, in that moment, Ford’s words had come into sharp focus and she knew exactly what he’d meant that day at the bar in New York when he’d said his life was missing something.

A few weeks ago, she’d received the first of her advance checks, a staggering amount of money. She couldn’t imagine what she would do with the second check once it came. But a few days later, she bought a small cottage on the lake. Despite having everything she had ever dreamed of, her life still seemed to be constantly out of focus, with everything duller than it had been before.

Andi left the bedroom and walked down the short hallway to the living room, where massive windows faced the lake. She stared out into the choppy blue water. Soon, the sun would drop below the horizon, turning a fiery hue and brushing the sky in a kaleidoscope of pink and orange. She thought of her parents, who would gather around the supper table for a simple meal, then snuggle up on the couch to either read or watch a movie together. Then her father would fall asleep, only for her mother to wake him an hour later when it was time for bed and they would retire together. And as it always did, her heart ached at this image. A reminder of what she wanted but lacked.

A tear slid down her cheek, but she wiped it away as quickly as it came, and went to the pantry, retrieving a can of soup. She heated her dinner and moved to the table, where she would eat alone.

She sat, spoon poised and wondered, as she always did in these silent moments, when, if ever, she would get over Ford. But the answer that came to her was one that hadn’t changed. It was the same every day. Not yet. Not ever.

Andi ate her soup in the silence of the kitchen, letting her gaze wander lazily around the room, with its creamy cupboards, farmhouse sink, and marble countertops. Sighing, she pushed her bowl away from her and sat back, feeling her appetite evaporate. She raised her gaze to the picturesque windows and stared out into the lake at nothing in particular until she spotted a boat.

She watched as it seemed to move closer, the shape and form of it sharpening. The large, white boat with its massive sails reminded her of Ford. At the reminder, a haze of regret washed over her as she watched the boat inch its way closer to the shoreline. Standing, she moved to the window and placed her hand against the cool glass. She stared, a sense of familiarity creeping up her spine. From a distance, she could see the sails shift and barely make out the sailor on board who flew across the deck with ease, tightening the jib so that the boat angled itself diagonal to her home. She squinted, trying to get a better look, and as the boat slowly angled itself toward her, a flash of blue caught her eye.

Pins pricked her spine and the hair on her arms stood as thick, bold lettering came into view. She pressed her palms against the glass as she strained to see, her eyes now wide.

“It can’t be,” she whispered.

But when the wind shifted and rocked the boat, angling it so that she could just barely make out the name emblazoned on the side in blue. Andi’s heart sped up. Clearly, in the same bold script she remembered, the name
Mercy
stared back at her. Ford.

A moan escaped her lips as Andi dropped to her knees. Tears sprung to her eyes, unbidden, and it took her minutes to simply rise to her feet. She ran to the front door, stumbling on numb limbs. Swinging it open, she bounded down the small backyard of the cottage, slipping several times over the sandy bluff that led to the pebbled beach of her dock.

She waited what felt like hours as his boat came to dock. When it did, she didn’t wait. She couldn’t.

She ran onto the mooring, her feet pounding over the old wood planks. Her hair flew into her face and the cool air nipped at her arms. Halting just at the lip of the boat, she searched for Ford, wondering if it was a mirage. And then he appeared. His hair was slightly longer than it had been before, his jaw covered in thick stubble. But his eyes, all hazel and burning amber, stared back at her just as she remembered.

She felt lighter than she had in months. Warmth pooled in her chest, and her breath came ragged and sharp, making it hard to speak. Somehow she managed to push the words out. “You came back.”

Ford nodded and leapt down from the boat so that he stood only feet from her. His hands hovered in the air, as if waiting for something. “Andi, I—”

Andi stepped forward and placed a finger over his lips. “Don’t ever leave me like that again. Ever.” She removed her hand, trusting him to listen. The emotion, her time spent without Ford, found a way through her voice. “Everything…all this—” she raised her arms “—it means
nothing
without… ” She gripped his arms. “I don’t ever want you to be the price I pay for anything. Do you understand?”

Ford’s jaw worked and his eyes glistened as he nodded.

“Nothing is worth that much. I’d trade anything just for another day with you,” Andi said, her voice thick.

Ford reached out and traced the plains of her face with his fingertips, his skin warm but slightly rough. Her skin sparked everywhere he touched, reminding her of the past and just how much he affected her. “I was wrong. And you were right, the day I left. I didn’t want you to be attacked by the press because of me, and I may have feared it might affect your dreams, but I
was
scared. I wanted you to have your peaceful life here and everything you’ve ever wanted. I saw the mess of my life getting ready to destroy yours after only a night of being with me, and I couldn’t bear it. It’s one thing for my past to haunt me, but not you. And I just … I ran. Because I thought it would be easier than always waiting for you to be the one to leave.”