Delaney James seems to have it all-a successful husband, a stylish Manhattan townhouse, and a thriving career in fashion journalism-until it all falls apart. Her husband leaves her, shattering the perfect life she once knew. Heartbroken and desperat...
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Nostalgia overwhelms me as I stare out the car window at the town I haven't seen since the day I left for college. South Grove, a small suburb of Wilmington North Carolina, is a beach town and the perfect place to grow up. As a little girl I spent every day in the summer on the beach with my best friends Jo and Greyson. We'd build sandcastles, collect seashells, and go surfing, and before we'd walk home, we'd stop and get water ice at Ellie's at The Riverwalk. At night we'd run around in my back yard catching fireflies and roast marshmallows for s'mores in the firepit while our parents watched us from the deck.
We'd ride our bikes downtown and while Greyson was reading the latest Sports Illustrated at the only bookstore in a twenty-mile radius, Jo and I would sneak into the drugstore next door and play with the make-up samples.
Things changed as we got older. Instead of Barbie's and Candyland, Jo and I went to parties and spent Sunday nights dancing at Pulse – South Grove's only nightclub. Greyson and I started dating freshman year and spent all our free time together, but when Jo got a job at Maribelle's Diner, he and I would visit, eating all the peach pie our stomachs could handle.
My childhood was damn near perfect, and when I think back on it, all I remember being was happy.
We turn onto my street, and I'm inundated with the feeling that I never left. Southern magnolia trees, tall and dark, line the sidewalks. It's nearing the end of spring, and their bulbs have already bloomed full, picturesque white flowers. I still remember the way they smell - like the citronella candles my parents burn to keep mosquitoes away. The treehouse I fell out of and broke my arm when I was nine is still in the Reinhart's backyard. Mike, the mailman we've had for as long as I can remember, is walking his route, and the corner where Jo wiped out on her rollerblades and ripped her knee open has the same broken curb it had ten years ago.
"Gross," I say to myself, wrinkling my face in disgust. "The Falcone's painted their house pink."
"What's that?" my Uber driver asks.
"Oh, nothing. Sorry."
"Taking a trip down memory lane?"
"Something like that."
He slows the car and turns into our driveway. "How long have you been gone?"
"Ten years. But it feels like much longer."
"Well, I hope you enjoy your stay." Our eyes meet in his rearview mirror and a smile stretches across his round face. "Let's get your luggage. Shall we?"
"Hello! I'm home." I shut the door behind me and drop my luggage on the floor. After hearing her excitement when I told her I was coming home, I expected her to be on the front porch waiting for me, but the house is silent. "Anybody here?"
I make my way through the house, checking each room as I go, until I finally see her in the backyard. I tap on the kitchen window to get her attention and when I do, her blue eyes light up and a huge smile adorns her thin face. She stands and runs toward the house, and it's only when she bursts through the back door do I realize just how long it's been since I've seen her.
