Page 226 of Love Unwritten
My heart rate calms. At most, he heard the whole first verse since I was messing with a few chords while trying to perfect the sound.
“This song sounds different from your others.”
My head, along with my world, tilts. “What?”
“It’s… I don’t know how to describe it. It’s just different.”
He is right. Unlike my other songs, this one is happy. Hopeful even. Like a never-ending epilogue of our unfinished love story.
A love story that has only just begun, with the best parts still left to be written.
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
Rafael
Instead of heading back to Lake Wisteria, I changed my mind at the last minute and switched my flight from Detroit to Portland. My ex-wife hasn’t been answering Nico’s calls or my texts since she canceled on him for the Strawberry Festival a week ago, and while I don’t mind never speaking to her again, my kid deserves better.
I stop the car in front of the gate blocking her driveway, press my finger against the call button on the mechanical box, and wait. Finally, after a couple of minutes, Hillary’s voice crackles through the speaker.
“What are you doing here?” she asks in her grating tone.
“We need to talk.”
“You flew all the way out here to talk?”
“Yes.” I grind my teeth together.
The gate opens, and I drive my rental car up the gravel path before parking outside a beautiful house overlooking a lake. I take a moment to appreciate the view, seeing as I paid for it, before taking a deep breath and heading toward the open front door.
Hillary stands with her arms crossed against her chest and a scowl I recognize all too well. Her short, dark hair accentuates her sharp bone structure, and her designer clothes showcase her thin frame and delicate features, the ivory color of her pantsuit making her appear far more angelic than she actually is.
Her red lips pull into a frown. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Something I should have done long ago,” I snap.
She looks around, as if the neighbors a mile away can hear us. “Come inside.”
Typical Hillary, always giving a shit about everyone else except those whose opinions actually matter. I used to be the same way, but I’ve changed.
Ellie opened my eyes to the possibility of accepting who I am without any pretenses, and now that I’ve gotten a taste, I can’t imagine going back to the way things used to be.
I follow Hillary inside, and she shuts the door and turns to face me.
Her nostrils flare. “What are you really doing here?”
“You kept ignoring Nico’s and my calls.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Cut the shit.” I chose passiveness over passion, but now I’m done. Either Hillary steps up to be a parent or I will fight her for full custody because she doesn’t want it anyway.
Her face turns red. “What do you want me to do? Apologize for not being able to make it to the festival?”
“Yes, Hillary, an apology would be nice after you promised to go but canceled only one hour before your son was supposed to perform.”
She doesn’t look the least bit affronted by my tone, which only fuels my frustration.
“For some goddamn reason, Nico wanted you there because he always wants you there, although I can’t for the life of me understand why, when all you do is disappoint him.”