Chapter 2
Two
T he worst year of Mia’s life faded into a distant memory as soon as Tori materialized. The grief she’d been carrying for eleven months released her from its chokehold. At least for the moment.
Last time she’d seen her, Tori had been a gangly teenager. The woman standing in front of her was no awkward kid. Glossy and gorgeous, Tori had obviously taken up yoga or running or both. Hair in perfect beach waves falling at her jaw, Tori looked like she’d just left the salon. Big, dark eyes painted with nothing but eyeliner and mascara reminded Mia of a sultry Victoria Justice. Tori hadn’t just grown up over the last fifteen years. She’d transformed.
Mia was so taken aback by Tori’s polished facade, it took her a beat to notice that Tori hadn’t immediately come in for a customary Miami kiss on the cheek. After living in Philly so long, she’d lost the Pavlovian instinct to kiss everyone she made eye contact with.
Actually, Tori hadn’t given her so much as a smile. If Tori wasn’t flashing her trademark dimples at her, Mia doubted she wanted a hug. She blamed it on the surprise and tried not to take it personally.
“What are you doing here?” Tori asked, body unmoving.
Tori’s tone was so professionally pleasant. So mild and objectively friendly. It shouldn’t have felt like icy fingers curling around Mia’s heart.
Staring at the person so different from the girl she’d known once, Mia wondered whether it had been a mistake to come. She just hadn’t known where else to go. Who else to run to when everything was crumbling. But after everything she’d lost, what more was a little dignity?
“Can I get you some coffee?” A woman appeared out of nowhere, breaking the indefinable energy building between her and Tori. “I’m Larissa, by the way.” Her smile was dazzling, but Mia couldn’t take her attention off of Tori for more than a hurried heartbeat. “Maybe you all want to sit in the conference room? Catch up?”
Mia’s empty stomach churned, doubting Tori would say yes, before she registered the catch up . Had Tori mentioned her to Larissa? The prospect that Tori hadn’t forgotten her forced a new rush of hope to spring from the splinters in her grief. Stubborn weeds pushing up through cracked pavement.
“That’d be great.” Mia’s attention darted between a gleeful Larissa and stoic Tori. “If you have time?”
“Oh, yeah. She’s got at least half an hour,” Larissa replied without looking at Tori.
Larissa’s hand resting lightly on her upper back guided Mia to a large conference room with a rustic wooden table and metal chairs. Mia stopped holding her breath when Tori sat across from her.
“We practically have a Starbucks in our kitchen. I can make you anything. Even an espresso martini. What’ll you have?” Larissa asked, leaning into the conference room, legs primed to take off as soon as Mia made her request.
“I’m good, thank you.” Mia smiled, grateful that Larissa had gotten them out of the lobby and given her time with Tori. “You acquired a taste for coffee?” she asked Tori.
“You didn’t used to like coffee?” Larissa furrowed her brow at Tori like she’d sprouted an extra head before turning to Mia again. “She’s seventy percent Arabica now,” she joked. “Wonder what else has changed since high school,” she mused before disappearing.
Alone with Tori, Mia felt the sudden and nearly irrepressible urge to babble. The Tori she’d known had always been warm. Not so remote. If she said the right combination of words, she could get her old bestie back. She opened her mouth, ready to pull out a shred of nostalgia to remind Tori how close they’d been, when Tori spoke first.
“I’m not trying to be rude or anything, but what are you doing here, Mia?” Tori entwined her fingers, resting her hands on the table like the most unimpressed vice principal.
Mouth dry, Mia regretted not having asked Larissa for water. “My mom died,” she blurted because it was true and her nerves had replicated like a virus and hijacked her mouth. “And I got divorced four months ago. And my mom left me her house, and I don’t know what to do because I have to sell it, but…”
Tori’s veneer shattered. She unlaced her fingers like she was going to reach out for Mia before dropping her hands into her lap instead. “God, Mia. I’m so sorry.” Her eyes glistened with emotion as if immediately deducing that the loss made Mia an orphan. “What happened?”
Mia didn’t want to relive the last few months. “She had a heart attack.” She swallowed, but the lump in her throat wouldn’t budge. “She was so healthy. Walked two miles every day. Avoided red meat. Went to the doctor every year.” Mia shook her head when a wave of pain crested in her chest. “She was at work at the bank when it happened. They rushed her to the hospital, but...” She shook her head. “My mom didn’t make it out of the ICU.” Her chest throbbed when her heart was thrown back to the darkest moment in a sea of loss. Death had been so much quieter than she’d expected. No beeping machines. No chaos. Just clutching her mother’s hand and the empty chill of being left without family.
Wiping away a tear, Tori stood and rounded the table like she’d considered hurdling over it. Mia choked out a little sob before Tori was pulling her out of her chair and wrapping her arms around her.
Inhaling the familiar scent of Tori’s skin with unfettered greed, Mia nuzzled against her neck. Grabbing fistfuls of Tori’s silky top, she released nearly a year’s worth of sadness through the gouges in her heart.
“I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what you’re going through.” Tori squeezed her tighter. Held her closer like she was trying to crush the grief out of her body. To consume it herself. Mia was back to all the times they’d slept clinging to each other.
Tori was fresh air and sunrise and home. A safety and peace she hadn’t felt in years seeped into Mia’s bones and uncoiled her muscles. She’d felt alone for so long. Adrift.
Pathetic as it was, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d hugged anyone with her entire body. The last time she’d let herself unravel. Eric had tried to be there so many times, but she couldn’t make herself let him.
“I’m sorry,” Mia gasped.
Sorry for embarrassing herself and blubbering all over Tori’s nice clothes. Sorry that she’d shown up back in her life just to act like this. But she couldn’t bring herself to let Tori go. Couldn’t give up the warmth of her touch and the steadiness of her arms tethering her to the ground.
“Stop.” Tori’s command was a low murmur against Mia’s temple. “You never have to apologize. Not to me.”
The soft words brought on another wave of pitiful tears. Tori’s reassurance was tearing her apart just to bring her back together. After too long of holding herself together with nothing but sheer will, it was too much.
Mia pulled back and wiped her undoubtedly flushed face.
“I only have six weeks of leave from the hospital and I don’t know how I’m going to get her house sold in time?—”
“Dr. Falcon, is it?” Tori’s fingertips were warm where they brushed her forehead to move hair out of her face.
“Not quite,” Mia replied under a metric ton of regret. “I’m an MRI tech.”
Head tipped to the side, Tori obviously wanted to ask what happened to her med school dreams, but mercifully she didn’t. Mia could only admit so much failure in one day.
“Would you help me? With my mom’s house?” Mia looked up at Tori and the warmest brown eyes she’d ever seen. The ones that had known her so well once, known her better than she’d known herself.
Tori’s sculpted brows furrowed. “I don’t do that kind of real estate. I’m a commercial broker.”
It wasn’t exactly a no, Mia told herself before she pushed. Tori had always needed a little encouragement. She was so stubborn.
“I’ll adjust my expectations accordingly,” Mia joked and wished she could blow her nose.
“Mia, it’s not that I don’t want to help?—”
“So help,” Mia insisted. “Come over tomorrow? I’ll be there all day packing up lifetimes of memories,” she added, knowing that she was leaning on guilt. She wasn’t proud of it, but desperation had taken the wheel.
Tori’s lips, fuller than Mia remembered, eased into a tiny smirk that filled Mia with unbearable light. A single dimple was a first step to getting her back.
“Is that how you’re going to play this?” Tori’s smile was a fire catching in her eyes, her teeth, her skin.
“Can you blame me for using the cards in my deck?” Mia’s heart lifted. “I’m kind of desperate here.”
Tori searched her like she was peeling back her layers. Like she was reading her very essence and deciding whether she liked what she saw.
“So you’re only here because you need something from me?” Tori’s voice was soft and lacked conviction. It wasn’t an accusation.
“I looked for you before, you know. So many times,” Mia confessed without revealing all the social media searches. All the emails she’d drafted and deleted. “Even eighty-year-olds have social media, but not you.”
Tori opened her mouth, and Mia knew exactly what she was going to say. She didn’t let her.
“A personal social media account where you post about your life. Share pictures of your pets and delicious brunch items. Maybe even vague-book sometimes,” Mia added. “You don’t even post your face on your Instagram. Just big ass buildings.”
Amusement danced across Tori’s face like she was delighted to know Mia had social-stalked her a little over the years. Okay, a lot.
“Come over tomorrow?” Mia repeated, without hiding how badly she wanted Tori to accept. “Please?”
A pause. A deep breath. Dark eyes fixed on hers. “Okay.”
Okay . Mia’s body vibrated with warm relief.
Mia floated to her mother’s Volvo. Sitting in the driver’s seat of the twenty-year-old station wagon, she was back to beach trips and picking Tori up from basketball practice. To the two of them driving around in circles because they’d run out of things to do while talking nonstop. How had they had so much to say?
Sitting in the parking garage, she closed her eyes and dropped against the headrest. She could hear the echo of their laughter from the back of the station wagon like it was yesterday. Listening to “Airplane” on repeat because all they had ahead of them were wishes. It was all endless opportunity and thousands of choices left to make. Everything felt so possible then. So within reach.
A chime from inside her bag broke her trance. She ignored it and threw the car into reverse.
Mia was on her way to her childhood home when her phone chimed again. And again. She turned up the radio and focused on the drive. The enormous oak trees lining both sides of the street and meeting in the middle to form a canopy had always been one of her favorite things about living in the Gables. It’s what made her first winter in Philly so sad. Before she found the beauty in seasons, she’d missed the relief of driving under the canopies with the sun filtering in through the scattered gaps. It had always felt like a little bit of magic.
As soon as Mia parked in front of the garage too full of stuff to use for the car, another ding assaulted her flimsy peace. Irritated, she reached inside her purse and tore out the stupid phone. So many missed calls and voicemails from an unknown number. Only one text.
Eric: I didn’t want to do it this way. Please answer my lawyer’s call. She needs to serve you with the divorce papers. Please.
Nausea swelled like the crescendo in Beethoven’s Fifth. Belatedly, she’d registered her conversation with Tori. Why had she told her she was already divorced? Mia was putting her key in the front door when she acknowledged why. It had taken three seconds to see that Tori had gotten the manual to Life while Mia’s had obviously gotten lost in the mail.
She pushed open the door and entered the home that had been her grandparents’ and then her mother’s. Sixty years worth of memories she’d barely started sorting. Stacks of boxes and rolls of tape and a million things Mia couldn’t part with. Her mother had never gotten rid of her parents’ things, so she’d just incorporated them in when adding her own tastes. It was sweet, but it also meant that every inch of the house was adorned with something.
Like those who’d survived the Great Depression, exiled Cubans who’d left everything behind were not great at getting rid of stuff. Everything held some future utility or sentimental value. Bonus points for both.
When her phone started ringing in her hand, Mia looked down at the 215 area code. She threw the damn thing across the room, watching as it landed on the white Pottery Barn couch her mother kept pristine, even when Mia was a teen who spilled everything.
How was she going to explain to Tori that everything in her life was a mess and she had six weeks to figure out what to do with a collection of hand-painted wooden roosters among so many other things? Giving up before she’d started for the day, Mia trudged from the foyer and down the hall to her old bedroom turned guest room. All the furniture was still the same, but the bedspread was boring beige and all her posters were gone.
Tired, she collapsed onto the bed that still felt like hers and tried to remember what it was like to know what she was doing. Or to at least go back to the time when she didn’t know the difference between confidence and delusion.