Chapter Thirty

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My fingers slowly trace over the stack of papers, brushing against the title of my book: 'Better as Friends'

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My fingers slowly trace over the stack of papers, brushing against the title of my book: 'Better as Friends'. 347 pages, 4,059 paragraphs, 86,750 words. It's only the first draft and I'm certain it's riddled with errors and typos, but it's here, tangible.

The book I wrote.

A smile quirks my lips, and I glance up at the employee who is assisting me. "Thank you."

"No problem," he replies.

I snatch the three-hole punched stack of papers, secured with rubber bands, and quickly leaf through them before heading out the door toward Hansen's Coffee. I promised Wells I had a surprise tonight but I wanted him to see it in print. Something substantial, concrete evidence that I did it. Something that Wells helped me accomplish.

I make my way across the street toward the coffee shop, tucking the manuscript into my bag. As I stroll along the sidewalk, my phone buzzes. I pull it out to find 9 text messages and 4 missed calls from both Ellis and Delaney. Ellis is likely still pushing us to attend some cosmetic event for her Instagram, though neither of us wants to go.

I roll my eyes and brush the phone back into my bag, choosing to ignore it for the moment because I'm too excited to see Wells. So excited I'm practically skipping there.

But as I walk up to Hansen and reach for the door, I falter mid-step. My gaze lifts, and there, out of the corner of my eye, a blue-grey Ford Raptor catches my attention. I freeze and slowly turn my head toward the truck, feeling my heart drop into my stomach.

I know that truck; I was there when he bought it. He loved it because it had a lifted frame and extra-wide all-terrain tires with the black rims. I remember telling him it was perfect because it matched the color of his eyes.

I blink again, half convinced I'm imagining it.

There are probably a million trucks just like that out there. It has to be a coincidence. There's no way that's his truck.

Yet, my eyes trace over to the rearview mirror, and there they are—the unmistakable University of Washington purple and gold fuzzy dice I bought for him hanging from it.

"For good luck." I had told him.

"Baby," I hear from behind me, and as I turn around, Beckett's hands slide to my waist, and his lips meet mine in a light peck.

My eyes widen with shock, my body stiffens, my stomach churns. I'm in such shock that I'm not even sure what do to with myself.

He pulls back, dipping his head to meet my gaze, his dark blue eyes locking onto mine. Holding me at arm's length, he offers a smile like we've been talking every day since I left. Like I saw him only yesterday. Like him cheating on me never happened.

His hands gently rubbing my arms up and down. "Do you have any idea how long it took me to find you? Ellis and Delaney wouldn't tell me where you were."

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