Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Leaving a man at the altar, followed by a few days of couch time and violent movies with Lil at the Holiday Inn in Midtown—the whole reason I’m able to make a Hacksaw Ridge reference, honestly—and a journey from hell have left me feeling like I’m barely a person. But I’m here now, and that’s all that matters.
If only I could get myself to lift my hand and knock.
I take inventory of my sister’s house and yard again, for what has to be the hundredth time, but this time, it’s…different. Overwhelming nostalgia hits me square in the chest. I’m in a Lana Del Rey song, and everywhere I look are things that make me feel simultaneously happy and sad.
Everything is the same. The yellow shutters. The white brick. The pink door and porch swing. Even the little yard ornaments and knickknacks in the form of fairy statues and gnomes and frogs littering the garden beds surrounding the house.
This used to be our grandmother Rose’s cottage and our father’s childhood home.
After our grandmother passed away, Josie moved out of the small, studio apartment above her coffee shop and started living here. And from the looks of it, the only thing she’s done with the place is keep it maintained. Everything else is exactly as it was when we were kids, and that realization settles the smallest sense of relief inside my belly. I feel like I’m where I’m supposed to be.
I just hope my sister feels the same way.
I know I should’ve called her before I left New York—should’ve let her know I was coming—but Josie is stubborn as a mule, and we haven’t been on speaking terms since Grandma Rose’s funeral.
Truth be told, I have a fifty-fifty shot of her welcoming my presence versus pulling out a shotgun and firing it in my direction.
It’s time, Norah.
I take a big, deep breath, and just as I’m lifting my suitcase up the front porch steps, my phone dings from my purse. I stop at the top and pull it out, expecting to find more angry texts from Thomas—it’s been an onslaught today—but when I see Lillian’s name on the screen, I click to open her message.
Lil: Did you make it to Red Bridge?
Me: I did.
Lillian has been by my side since I was a kid. She was the only girl at the Manhattan private school my mother enrolled me in who didn’t care whether my family had money. Which, at the time, we didn’t.
We’ve seen each other through it all. Braces, acne breakouts, high school, relationship breakups, college, Lil’s first job at a marketing firm—she is still there and thriving—receiving family trust funds that twenty-year-old girls probably shouldn’t have access to, weddings-that-didn’t-happen, and losing said trust funds—which, yeah, that one only relates to moi.
She’s my best friend, and if I miss anything about my life back in New York, it’s her.
Lil: And how did Josie take it?
Me: I’m currently standing on her front porch, trying to find the courage to knock.
Lil: She’s your sister, Norah. She might be a little mad, but she’s not going to shove you out on the street. It’s all going to be okay.
I snort, but it’s not out of humor. Lil doesn’t know my sister like I do. Josie had no qualms with cutting our mother out of her life when she turned eighteen. And it’s not like she’s been trying to make amends with me for the past five years.
Frankly, I have no idea how this is going to go down, and I start to question myself on whether I’m making the right decision. Before I know it, I’m frozen on my sister’s front porch, in the middle of an internal crisis, and staring down at the screen of my phone as I scroll through text messages with Thomas. What used to be a happy couple texting each other about random, daily things quickly turns into a one-sided conversation that started the moment he realized I wasn’t going to say “I do.”
Thomas: Lillian said you left. What the fuck, Norah? What is going on? There are three hundred people here ready to watch us get married, and you left???
Thomas: I can’t believe this is fucking happening right now. Answer your phone. Call me back.
Thomas: You seriously left me on our wedding day? Do you even realize what you’ve done? There are journalists here, Norah. Do you have any idea what they’re going to say about you?
Thomas: I’ve given you everything. EVERYTHING. And this is how you repay me?
Thomas: Do you have any idea how this looks for me? For my family?
Thomas: NORAH CALL ME BACK.
Thomas: I hope you realize you are making the biggest mistake of your life.
Thomas: Your mother is devastated. I can’t believe how selfish you are right now. It’s like you don’t even care what you’re putting everyone else through.