Then There Was You est une romance contemporaine de Claire Contreras.
Il y est question de seconde chance.
Love and the right timing were two things I didn't believe in.
Love is about walking to the edge of the cliff and taking the leap together.
Timing was never on our side.
My first mistake was hooking up with my best friend.
My second came years later, when we met again, and I fell for her.
My third was letting her go, because I had to. Because a love like this wasn't built to withstand the winds coming in our direction.
Love and timing.
I didn't believe in either.
Then there was you . . .
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Excerpt from Then There Was You:
“There’s no one at my parent’s house except for me.” He raised an eyebrow. “My brother is moving from his apartment to a bigger house, so he’s been going by there to pick up the last of his things, but that’s about it. I’ve barely seen him.”
I frowned. “So why are you staying there?” And where were his parents living? I didn’t want to ask this, of course, but I was dying to know.
“I’m waiting for construction on my apartment building to be complete. It should be move-in ready by October.”
All sorts of questions popped into my head, but I pushed them aside. They’d go unasked because I didn’t want to answer any more of his. Thankfully, he clicked for the iron gates that guarded his house to open and drove in, not pushing for an answer. My eyes stayed glued on those gates as we drove past them. They were like something out of a Richie-Rich movie, those gates, black with a gold emblem in the center. I’d seen them countless times, pushed them open in the middle of the night more times than I could count. I tore my eyes away and looked up at the house. I hadn’t expected to feel such gripping emotion over a damn gate, but I guess some things never stop piercing your heart, no matter how much time passed.
“I’ll be right out.”
I nodded once and leaned against the seat before he jogged inside. I closed my eyes, trying to figure out how my trip had gone from closing a chapter in my life to being stuck in the middle of my epilogue. When Grandma Joan called me with a guilt trip, telling me to come spend a couple of weeks with her, I’d taken her up on the offer for two reasons: I was the only one left who hadn’t packed her room and taken the boxes to the storage unit, and I missed her and this place. I missed the days I used to come here and feel like I was home. I missed the slow pace that came with a life here in Ithaca, nestled inside the city, but surrounded by nature and the water.
Thinking about those days also brought memories of Rowan. Kissing Rowan, holding hands with him, laughing with him in our canoes, but with the positive came the negative. He and I were never meant to be more than friends, and even friends was questionable. Friends didn’t lie or omit important things. My eyes popped open when I heard the front door shut. I watched him take the steps two at a time and stride toward me.
He slid into the driver’s seat, dropped one of the two bottles of water he’d been carrying into my lap, and shot me a wink. I scowled, clutching the water and facing forward. Just because I’d taken him up on the ride didn’t mean we were suddenly going to be chums again. Far from it. I wouldn’t fall for those mischievous eyes. I wouldn’t fall for the panty-dropping grin either. I wouldn’t fall. Not again.
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