Maggie
He hasn’t called yet.
This isn’t good.
I mean, I’m not really expecting him to.
He’s probably back to having no idea who I am.
But at least this time I’m prepared for it.
I take a deep breath.
I—
Ohmigod.
My phone is vibrating.
“Hello?”
“Hi.”
My vision blurs.
“Coco?”
There’s a pause.
“I prefer CarCo.”
I scream. He does too.
“FaceTime me,” I say. “I want to see you.”
“Just come to the front door.”
I pretty much fall down the stairs.
I open the door.
And there he is.
Looking exactly like he did last night.
“Nice pajama pants,” he says.
And then I’m in his arms, and he is in mine, a jumble of messy kisses.
“Happy fucking birthday,” I say.
“Thanks, Maggie Spear. So glad you remembered.”