Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 90410 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90410 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
The safe was located behind a picture in the wall of the kitchen. She finally managed to get it unlocked. I walked over to join her, and we examined the contents.
Inside was some paperwork, a few items of jewelry, and several photos.
I took an antique-looking rhinestone barrette and clipped it into Amelia’s hair, tucking some strands behind her ear. “Beautiful. There’s your something borrowed.” For a moment, I could see the little girls I’d fallen in love with reflected in her face—both Bea and little Patch.
Amelia began to sift through the photos, some of which contained images of her mother and grandfather. Her hand stilled at one point before she lifted a Polaroid. Nana used to love to take pictures with old-fashioned cameras even in the digital age.
This particular photo was of Amelia and me at probably ten and eleven years old. We were sitting on Nana’s steps, and the photo was snapped from behind. I was holding my first guitar, and Amelia was leaning her head on my shoulder. Nana had written on the bottom in blue pen: The way it was meant to be.
I took the snapshot from her to examine it more closely. “Wow.”
“This is proof, Justin. She gave us this house because she knew it would bring us back together. She knew we would find this photo and hoped it would remind us of how foolish our estrangement had been. She probably didn’t have faith that we would find our way back to each other on our own. She wanted to send us a message.” She gazed at it. “Look at this. How precious. Think of all those years we wasted.”
“It happened the way it was supposed to,” I said.
“You think so?”
“Yes. Think about it. Without all of that pent-up frustration, we wouldn’t have had as much angry sex.” I smiled. “We might not have been able to create that little girl in your belly.”
We’d found out the other day that our baby was a girl. We planned to name her Melody. I continued, “I know this is strange for me to say, seeing as though I don’t want to think about you and that asswipe, Adam, but if we hadn’t separated, Bea wouldn’t be here. So, no…I would never go back and change anything. Never.”
I looked at the inscription on the photo again.
The way it was meant to be.
I took a pencil from the counter and added a small letter A to the end of the sentence.
The way it was meant to Bea.