By the Book (Meant to Be #2)(37)

“Okay.”

“I’ve been wondering something. That first night…after you left the dining room, I sort of expected you to leave right away, go back to New York. Why didn’t you?”

She sat back down. “I’ll answer that if you answer something for me. When you say you ‘sort of expected’ me to leave right away—is that what you intended?”

A week ago, she wouldn’t have asked him that. But then, a lot had changed this week.

He looked embarrassed. “I don’t think my thought process was particularly intentional. I was pretty angry. I kind of assumed that you were just here because you wanted to see the asshole Beau Towers in real life. And I was also kind of…ashamed, I guess, that I’d been ignoring your emails for so long. So yeah, on some level I was probably trying to drive you away.” He reached for his water bottle but didn’t take a sip. “Wow, does that sound shitty when I put it that way.” He looked up at her. “I’m sorry.”

She looked back at him. She could see, now that she knew him better, how much he really meant his apology.

“It’s okay,” she said. And then she bit her lip. “I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed with my answer now, about why I stayed.”

He smiled at her. “Now I can’t wait to hear this,” he said.

She sighed. “I had too much wine! When I went back to my room, I did intend to grab my stuff and leave right away, but then I realized the wine had gone straight to my head. And then you brought the food, and then it felt too late to drive back to LA. And then Marta called in the morning, and, well…”

The smile on his face had widened as she talked, but it disappeared when she mentioned Marta. “Did she make you stay? That wasn’t—When I emailed her, I was just trying to make it up to you, say something nice to your boss about you, so she wouldn’t be mad at you because of me. I didn’t mean to back you into a corner.”

“No, you didn’t at all,” Izzy said. “Honestly, I really needed the break from the office, so when Marta called, and I was looking out my bedroom window at the bright blue sky, it felt like a gift to get to stay longer.”

The furrow on his brow cleared. “Well, then.” He put down his water bottle. “Thanks. For answering my question.”

“No problem.” She stood up. “I should…um, get lunch. See you in the library?”

He nodded. “Yeah. See you there.”

As she walked back to the house, she thought she heard something else.

“I’m glad you stayed.”

She turned around, but Beau was swimming. She must be hearing things again.





Monday midmorning, Izzy walked into the kitchen to refresh her coffee.

“Morning, Izzy,” Michaela said.

Izzy reached for the knife to slice herself a piece of lemon pound cake. “Morning. I hope you had a good weekend.”

Michaela dropped a tea bag into her mug. “I did, thank you. Oh, by the way, Izzy, it was so nice of you, but you don’t have to wash the dishes here. You know there’s a housekeeper who does all the cleaning, right?”

Izzy grinned at her. “Oh, I didn’t wash the dishes. Beau did that.”

Michaela stared. “Beau? Washed the dishes? Beau Towers?”

Izzy laughed as she turned to leave the kitchen. “Ask him.”


She and Beau worked together in the library that afternoon, and every day that week. By Wednesday, she realized that she’d started to look forward to that hour—sometimes more—in the library with him. Unlike the rest of her job, the time with Beau was fun, challenging in a good way, interesting, and strangely, not at all stressful. She didn’t write every time, but at least she thought about it.

“Can I ask you a question?” he said on Wednesday afternoon.

She looked up from her notebook. “Of course.”

“What if I don’t totally remember exact conversations? Like, I remember they happened, I know that, and I remember a few things perfectly, but the rest I remember in a sort of general way. You know what I mean? How do I…What do I do then?”

Beau hadn’t asked her a real question about writing until now.

“I think the most important thing is to talk about how those conversations made you feel, what impact they had on you, both then and now. Like, you don’t remember word for word exactly what you said, or what other people said, but you remember your emotions during those conversations, right? And if those emotions have changed as you’ve gotten older, or if you have different perspectives on them as the years have gone on, you know that. So lean into that, concentrate on that. This book is about you. So talk about you, and how you felt, and how you feel now.”

He looked at her, and then down at the screen. “Okay. That makes sense.” He tried to smile, though she could tell it was an effort. “That sounds really hard, but it makes sense.”

She laughed, and after a moment, so did he.

Without even talking about it, they had dinner together every night that week. They met in the kitchen every night, loaded up their plates together, and then either ate at the kitchen table—if Izzy was tired, or if she had more work to do that night after dinner—or in the TV room. And now Beau always loaded the dishwasher after dinner.