Had To Be You Read Online Free PDF Page A

building, keeping one hand on the wheel and one eye on the busy street. With her opposite hand, she smoothed out the paper creases in the directions Jonathan had given her.
    He’d left the day before to head up to Hartford, where his new play would finally see the light of day on a small Connecticut stage. She opted not to accompany him, using the excuse of work commitments. As it was the Friday of Memorial Day weekend, the truth was her office was practically deserted. Still, she went in bright and early to put some hours in, mostly so she would feel less guilty, and not because she was trying to delay her departure in any way.
    Awkwardly fumbling to locate the air conditioning controls in the unfamiliar vehicle, she finally gave up and lowered all the windows instead. The temperatures were starting to soar. She slowed to a stop at a traffic light, slipping on her sunglasses to cut the glare from the blazing sun.
    Gazing out through her shadowed view, she watched the congested throngs of pedestrians pass by on the crosswalk. The tourists typically looked sweaty and lost; the young and hip crowd dictated the latest summer street fashions, while the business people carried suit jackets draped over their arms, trudging wearily across the hot asphalt.
    When she’d first arrived after college, Rory wasn’t entirely prepared for life here, perhaps because it had been such a spontaneous decision. While she loved the city and grew into her surroundings fairly quickly, after barely two years it felt a little disingenuous to refer to herself as a legitimate New Yorker. Not when she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that a larger part of her identity would forever remain rooted somewhere else.
    This place still didn’t quite feel like home.
    She merged onto the expressway, intending to follow the interstate northbound. After traveling a couple of hours, stopping once for an iced coffee refill, she spotted the green highway marker in the distance. According to Jonathan’s directions, the exit she should take was coming up in about half a mile. Yet, as she approached, her focus was drawn away, her eyes locking onto something else instead.
    Rory was never really one of those people who searched for signs to lead the way, but in that moment she was struck by the startling and unexpected revelation that this one might just be hers.
    It was a sign —a definite, indisputable, and irrefutable sign.
    And the sign was telling her that Boston was straight ahead, a mere 120 miles away.
    Of course, no one had to tell Rory what the mileage would then be between Boston and points north, including one picturesque little seaside hamlet in particular. She didn’t need a sign to know that.
    So, on she drove, right past that exit.
     
    ***
     
    The bus finally rolled to a stop, tires crunching over gravel at the end of the drive before the door creaked to fold open. Rory already had her duffle bag slung over her shoulder, perched eagerly on the edge of her seat. She was up and out with barely a thank you and goodbye.
    Camp certainly hadn’t been her idea, especially not the exclusive, elite one her father insisted she attend just because it was the place all his big shot business colleagues sent their kids. Per usual, however, he didn’t exactly take her wishes into consideration when making the decision. Rory knew he just liked the idea of his daughter being there. Much like the idea of a daughter in general, really—great in theory, but not so much in practice.
    She took the front porch steps in two short leaps, bursting into the house to head straight for her room. She dumped the bag on her bed and quickly shed her green polo and cuffed khaki shorts, replacing them with a pair of denim cutoffs and pulling a plain white tank over her head. Her long skinny legs were dark with a tan and her light brown hair brightened to a sun-streaked blonde.
    On the kitchen table was a plate with a wrapped sandwich, along with a note that her mother would be