should have had them already.”
Ford held the package out, and she took it with shaky fingers.
The ribbon fell easily away, and all at once Ruby realized what she held in her hands.
Postcards. Postcards from Barcelona and Thailand and California, and any number of other places in between. She looked at the kaleidoscope of images, of cities he had visited and beaches he’d walked on.
When she turned them, each one bore her name, dates spanning the last decade, and the same four words: Wish you were here.
Ruby stared at them for a long time, until her vision was too obscured by tears to be able to read them anymore. She was aware of Ford watching her in silence, waiting as the truth sank in. He hadn’t turned his back on her. He hadn’t forgotten her.
He might have travelled the world, but he’d been just as lonely as she had, because the one person who mattered wasn’t at his side.
“I missed you, Rubes,” he said, taking the cards from her fingers and laying them on the table. “I’ve seen some amazing things and been to some amazing places, but none of them have come close to feeling like home. There’s always been something missing, a reason to move on to the next place in case it’s there. But it’s never there, Rubes.” He covered her fingers with his own. “It’s never there, because it’s been here all along. It’s always been you.” He lifted her hands to press his lips against them, and then put them down and reached for his ticket. She held her breath as she watched him rip it, tear after tear until it rained like confetti from his fingers. “I love you, Ruby, and I’m never catching another plane without you.”
Downstairs, the grandfather clock began to strike midnight, heralding the start of a brand-new year, and a brand-new Chapter for Ruby and Ford. Strains of “Auld Lang Syne” drifted up through the rafters of the old building as she looked into his sea-foam eyes and saw all of the love she felt for him reflected right back at her. He’d been barely a man when he’d walked out of her life, but he was all grown up now, handing her his heart and asking her not to break it.
“I’ve loved you for a lifetime, Ford,” she said, reaching out and stroking his face. “Welcome home.”
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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
“Wanderlust” copyright © 2013 by Kitty French.
All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.stmartins.com
Cover art © Shutterstock.com
eISBN 9781466849181
First eBook Edition: November 2013