Chapter Twenty-Two
I wake up to an alarm. But it’s not an alarm, it’s Leo calling. I blink up in bed and swat my nightstand until I unhook my phone.
“Hi,” I say, near croak.
“Hey.” I hear the sounds of the city behind him—awake and talking. “You and Pea leaving for the beach soon? I thought I could catch you.”
I open my eyes. I’m in our house, in West Hollywood. It’s Friday. I’m supposed to drive out to the beach tonight. To start this summer.
I scramble up in bed. “Leo?”
“Yeah? Can you hear me? Babe? Sorry, there’s a siren.”
I press my eyes closed. Oh my God, it worked.
“Hi, no, I’m here, I can hear you.”
“How’s it going? You driving out to the beach tonight?”
I look at my packed suitcases, think about the renter who is supposed to come tomorrow. Pea’s crate. Change of plans.
“I’m not going to the beach,” I say. I find out what is happening as I say it. “I’m coming to New York to be with you.”
I hear Leo’s laugh on the other end. “Laur, babe, you’re scaring me.”
“No!” I say. “I mean, I’m so proud of you. I want to see you in action. And I don’t want to spend the summer at the beach. I want to be with you. I’m booking a ticket now.”
The siren passes. “Lauren? Are you sure? I’m working a ton, the hours are kind of intense. I’m not sure how much…”
“I’m coming, Leo.”
A cacophony of cars honk. “I love it,” he says. “I guess text me when you’re landing? I could try to grab an Uber out to meet you. And see if Tanya will take Pea.”
Our neighbor has two cats that Pea vaguely hates but who won’t put up much of a fuss if she wants to rule the roost for the summer.
“I have it under control,” I say. “Just tell me where we’re going home to. I’ll meet you there.”
“Home!” he says. “It’s a walk-up in Brooklyn, but, baby, if you’re there, it will be.”
The rest is easy. Things are easy when you are running.
I book a flight, pack my bags, and send my mom a text: Going to be with Leo in New York for a bit. Call you from there.
Tanya comes to pick up Pea. She barely manages a meow as I hand her off.
“I’ll miss you,” I say.
Tanya snuggles her close. “We’re going to spend the summer gardening. I hope you like tomatoes!”
I get to the airport an hour early, there’s hardly a line at security, and then I’m seated in 18J.
The flight feels like it goes on forever. I just want to see him. Wrap my arms around him. I know when I get to him I’ll feel grounded, reoriented. I know when I get to him I’ll forget. It’ll be like it never happened, because it didn’t.
We land into a rainstorm. There are some delays on the ground, trying to find a gate, but once we are guided in we deboard quickly. I take the escalator down to baggage claim, and there, at the bottom of the steps, is Leo.
He’s holding a sign: My Wife, and as soon as I see it, and him, I take off running. I push past people, my rolling bag nipping at my ankles, and then I’m in his arms. He catches me, his body holds the force.
“Hi,” he says into my ear. “I had to give you a proper welcome.”
“I love you,” I say. I take in his smell, his warmth, the strength of his body. How did I forget? “I love you, I love you, I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
It’s not until we pull apart that I realize I am crying.
“What?” Leo asks. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head. “Nothing,” I say. “I’m just happy.”
“Be happy with less tears,” he says. “We’re OK, right?”
I look into his eyes.
“Right.”