Chapter Four

When Josie got home from school I showed her the second box of candy hearts. Her eyes grew wide. “This is like the book I just finished by Blake Lincoln, Crazy for You. Austin loves this girl, Natasha. She’s his best friend. But, Natasha moves away before Austin can tell her that he loves her.” Josie sighs dramatically before continuing. “Her mother died and her father took her away from everything she knows and loves. Her school, her friends—everything is miles and miles away.”

“Sounds like a great book!” I always tried to encourage Josie’s love of reading.

“Wait, let me finish. Her father takes her away, even though she begs him to stay. Then she starts getting boxes of candy hearts in the mail.” Josie pauses, for effect, I imagine. “At first she doesn’t know who’s sending them, but then the last package is just a beautiful velvet gift box with one candy heart that says, Crazy for You. There’s a note from Austin in it.” Josie was silent for a moment, checking her phone.

“Well, what does the note say?” She’s gotten me sucked in by the story.

“It says, ‘I’m crazy for you. Look outside.’ She looks outside and he’s standing there. He got on a plane to find her.”

I resisted saying that was totally unrealistic. What parents would allow their teenage child to get on a plane to surprise a girl? “Wow, so romantic.”

“It gets better. He was there visiting colleges because he decided to apply only to colleges close to her.”

Well, that made more sense—a parent was probably with him. “What if she decided to go to college back where she was from?”

“That’s the crazy part, they both get into colleges where the other one is and they have to decide what to do.”

“So, what did they do?”

“She went back home. Her father was abusive, so she escaped him and returned to her hometown and her love.”

“So, he didn’t go to school where she moved?”

“Nah. He never wanted to be in California, but that’s where Natasha’s father took her. Austin only went there for her. He went to college in New York City. They both did.”

“And they lived happily ever after, right?”

“Oh yeah. All Blake Lincoln’s books have a happy ending. He’s so amazing. And kinda hot too. I mean for an old guy. And, Austin is just like the perfect guy. I wish there were guys like him in my school.”

Josie sighed and I guessed the boy she liked fell out of her favor. I didn’t press the issue. I just said, “I’ve heard of Blake Lincoln, but I’ve never seen him.”

“I’ll show you the book.” Josie retreated to her room and returned with a thick, trade-sized novel. A bubble gum pink candy heart with the saying Crazy for You graced the cover. She held it out to me. “Inside cover.”

I was so thrilled Josie was actually having a conversation with me that didn’t include sarcasm, eye rolling or just general nastiness that it took me a second to realize what I was glancing at on the inside cover. I gasped when the recognition hit me. Blake Lincoln did not stare out at me from the author photo. Billy Leibowitz did. Those soft brown eyes, like the richest cup of hot chocolate, stared at me from behind stylish, black Wayfarer-style frames. He was the epitome of the sexy, “geek chic” trend. His jet-black hair was threaded with silver at the temples, giving him a distinguished air. The “business in the front, party in the back” mullet he had all those years ago had been replaced by close cropped sides and a flip at the top—a change that only made him more alluring. I just wanted to run my hands through his still thick hair. Plus, there were those dimples framing a sexy smile. And the perfect amount of scruff. It all was so familiar—a few crinkles around the eyes, yes; and the glasses were new, but it was absolutely Billy.

“What? Why’d you gasp like that? You always overreact to everything. The book is fine. It’s not inappropriate or anything—you’re always saying stuff is inappropriate when it’s not.”

“That’s not Blake Lincoln,” I stammered.

“What? Yes, it is. Look at the cover. Blake Lincoln.”

“No, I mean, that’s not really Blake Lincoln. That’s Billy Leibowitz, my first boyfriend. He was my high school sweetheart. Half of college too. Blake Lincoln must be his pen name.”

“You can’t be serious. I doubt Blake Lincoln would have gone out with you. He probably just looks like him. I mean when was the last time you saw your old boyfriend? I bet he’s fat and bald now.”

“I’m telling you, Josie, that’s him. I’d know his face anywhere. I spent five years staring at it. And then he was my best friend for another three years before your father made me cut ties with him.” I shook my head sadly. “Plus, he always sent me candy hearts. And, this makes perfect sense. That was why I couldn’t find him anywhere. He goes by a pen name now and probably has to make sure that anywhere he’s on the internet, it’s under that name.”

“I don’t know,” Josie said skeptically. “I just can’t imagine you with someone so…”

“So what? Cool? I was cool once, you know.”

“I was going to say hot.”

“That’s a little disturbing, but okay, I’ll agree. He is hot—still.” I gazed at the photo. I couldn’t fathom how one person could age so well. Maybe it was Photoshop magic.

I wasn’t entirely sure how I missed that photo before—how I never realized that Blake Lincoln was my long lost love, Billy. I used to thumb through every book Josie read, but once she hit high school I figured she was old enough to read just about anything. I read all my mom’s books when I was her age.

Plus, I was just so happy Josie was spending her allowance at the little bookstore in our town—one of the few remaining—I didn’t question what she bought. I felt like as long as it was in the YA section, it was fine with me. I never believed in censoring what kids could read anyway. The internet was a completely different story. She could get into way more trouble there than with any printed page. I often looked over her shoulder when she was on her phone or laptop, a habit that infuriated her. “I don’t know how I never realized this before. But, I’m absolutely certain it’s him.”

I grabbed my phone and Googled Blake Lincoln. There were over a million results in 0.45 seconds. I wondered again how I didn’t know what Billy had become. Except that perhaps I was too busy trying to just survive as a single mom and take care of my kid. I didn’t read celebrity news or anything. I wasn’t on Twitter or Instagram and it wasn’t like he was going to show up on my Facebook news feed.

Regardless of my ignorance of Blake Lincoln, he was all over the internet: holding a puppy, at the beach, on the red carpet. Apparently, two of his books were made into movies. He looked so good in a tux—even better than at our prom. The boy I knew had grown up to be an incredible man and I was so proud of him.

“That’s definitely Billy,” I told Josie.

She just stared at me for a moment, probably processing how her incredibly dorky mother was ever involved with someone like him. When she spoke, there was a tinge of awe to her voice. “Can you introduce me to him?”

“I haven’t seen him in twenty years. I’ve looked for him, but I guess Billy Leibowitz doesn’t exist any more. And, I don’t know if Blake Lincoln would even want to see me.” I sighed. “I loved him a lot, you know. He was my best friend from the time I was fifteen, and then your father…” I didn’t want to speak ill of Trent to Josie, even though he damn near destroyed me. It was bad enough that I took her and fled. I didn’t need to rub salt in that old wound and make it worse. “Well, he didn’t like him.”

“I know there were a lot of things he didn’t like, including me.” Josie picked at her glittery black nail polish, leaving tiny sparkly chips on the carpet, like fragments of black diamonds.

“Please, don’t ever say that, Josie! He loved you. He just didn’t show it very well.”

“He put me down all the time, and he never answered the letters I sent him, even though he had my email.”

“I’m so sorry he hurt you. If I could have done anything differently, I would have. But, I never regret being with him. I wouldn’t have you now if I wasn’t and you’re the best gift ever.”

Of course that got a big eye roll. “You don’t have to get dramatic. I’m fine.” And, she was back to her aloof self. But, she’d opened up for a moment and that was enough for me.

“Do you think Billy, I mean Blake, sent the candy hearts?” I asked, changing the subject. I’d never get used to calling Billy “Blake”. He’d always be Billy to me.

“I don’t know. I mean it does seem a lot like the book. You even were in California and came back here, even though it wasn’t your dad who took you. That’s really cool that you know him and that he may have sent the hearts to you, just like Austin sent the hearts to Natasha.”

“Yes, it is really cool,” I said with a smile, hoping that the next day would bring another box and add another piece to the puzzle. It had to be Billy—who else could it be? And, Josie was right; I did leave and move to California. Billy could have picked anywhere else to write about. Plus, the father was abusive. I’m sure Billy may have heard how Trent treated me. Trent was practically old enough to be my father. I so wanted to believe Billy wrote that book as a way to rewrite our ending. As a way to cast us as teenagers even though we were so far from that world now.

I spent about three hours online learning all about Blake Lincoln after Josie went to sleep. His bio stated he lives on the North Shore of Long Island looking over the water and his favorite thing to do, besides writing, is spend time on his boat. It didn’t mention anything about a wife or children. It did say he lived with his rescued pit bull, Shakespeare.

For a moment I daydreamed about hanging out at the dog park watching our fur babies play. Billy was the reason I loved pitties and the reason I rescued Hank. He had the sweetest pit bull he rescued from a dogfighting ring when we were teenagers, Bella. She was used as a bait dog and was missing her ear and part of her jaw. Despite everything she went through, she was so affectionate and grateful; I fell in love with the breed. A week after we moved back here, Josie and I went to the town animal shelter and found Hank. He looked so stern and serious with his cropped ears and his big blockhead, but he was a giant mush. He cried when we stood in front of his cage, trembling with the anticipation of getting out. As soon as the door opened, he slobbered all over us, his whole butt wiggling in happiness. I knew he was ours.

Knowing Billy had a rescued pit bull, made me feel so connected to him again. Silly as it may be, I felt like he was the same person I remembered. He didn’t have some fancy designer dog bought from a breeder now that he was a famous author. I just knew that he was still the same sweet boy he was as a kid.

As I scrolled through the images of Billy I tried to remember why I broke up with him. My forty-year-old self cringed at the memory. I felt like he was too nice. He didn’t challenge me, he simply loved me and I took it for granted. I thought drama equaled true love. Billy was so easy going; we never fought. We laughed way more than we cried. We finished each other’s sentences. But, he was like my brother and I just couldn’t get past that. I thought I needed someone exotic, someone the opposite of me to really live. I didn’t want to grow up and just be with my best friend. He was like the proverbial boy next door, even though he lived five minutes away.

Trent was everything Billy wasn’t. I couldn’t take him for granted, because even though he put me on a pedestal, he never let me forget that he could easily knock me off it. He was a challenge. He was all dark broodiness, while Billy was all sweetness and light. I was so profoundly stupid. Thank God I got an amazing daughter out of that relationship, because otherwise I would have hated myself forever for choosing so unwisely.

Back then I figured no one meets their husband at fifteen. At least they shouldn’t. I tried to imagine Josie dating someone now whom she would eventually marry and I couldn’t. She seemed way too immature. But, then again so was I. I was too immature to appreciate that being showered with love is not suffocating—it’s healthy and someone who finds every flaw in you and rips you to shreds doesn’t equal excitement. It’s simply exhausting and sad.