Chapter 11
WELL, SHE IS SINGLE NOW
Dev
After I pack—which takes all of five minutes since I am the king of the fast pack—I’ve only got a few more hours before it’s wheels up.
I leave my place on California Street, hop into my car that still has that fantastic new car smell a year later since I take care of this baby, and cruise over across the bridge to Sausalito.
With my shades on and a new podcast blasting called News That Doesn’t Suck, I take the curves, loving the feel of this ride.
I had it outfitted at a custom car place, and it’s a sleek matte-black battery-operated vehicle built from the ground up.
It’s a dream car, and ever since I was a kid, I’ve wanted a ride like this. Now that I’m a big boy, I’ve got one.
Once I’m on the main drag, I stop at a tourist shop that carries specialty chocolates and grab a box of Aubrey’s favorites.
Feeling pleased with this small gift—a show of friendship, that is all—I head up into the hills till I pull into the driveway of a two-story home overlooking Richardson Bay, its glass walls giving it an expansive view of the deep blue quiet water, then the majestic Golden Gate Bridge beyond.
It’s a good view for my parents’ therapy practice patients, too, and that’s why I bought it for them. Also, they’d never have bought it themselves, and they deserve it.
I turn off the car and get out, bringing the chocolate with me so it doesn’t melt, then gently rap my knuckles against the sign that reads Ryland and Ryland Counseling Services.
Their practice is downstairs, and their home upstairs.
It’s a Sunday, though, so the shop is closed today.
Dad’s out with his kayak club. I don’t have much time before I need to head to the airfield, but I was compelled to stop by.
Some kind of antsy feeling was driving me on.
I bound up the steps to the home level, where a cacophony of barks greets my knock. It’s like dogageddon in there, and the familiar sound is the first thing to truly soothe some of the knots I’ve been carrying in my shoulders.
“Coming, coming,” my mom shouts over the noise inside. When she opens the door a few inches, I glimpse her directing stern words over her shoulder. “Lulu, be quiet. It’s your brother.”
A different dog yaps.
“You too, Virgil. Yes, I know he’s your little brother. Now, both of you be quiet.”
I smile in amused admiration when they shut up. Mom swings open the door the rest of the way. The little assholes are sitting primly at her feet like they weren’t losing their Chihuahua minds a moment ago. Lulu’s tail is a blur. Virgil’s thumps hard.
My mom’s hair is slicked back in a long ponytail. She wears glasses and trendy-looking dark blue yoga gear.
“Say hi to Devon now,” she tells the pups.
Lulu hops up and down, whimpering in excitement. After I set the chocolate down on a high table, I bend and scoop up the little brown and tan critter. She licks my face. I breathe easily. Maybe this is what I needed?
“She missed you,” Mom says, then urges me inside, shutting the door.
The black-and-white boy circles me, yapping again.
“Give some attention to your big brother,” Mom chides.
“Mom, I am older than the dog.” I pick him up, too, scratching his head.
“You were once, and then you weren’t. It happens, sweetheart. It’s called dog years,” she says.
After I give them their necessary affection, I set each pup down, then head into the kitchen, passing the big-screen TV on the wall. It’s paused on a yoga video. Mom gets to work making tea because it’s always teatime for her. “Want some?”
“Nope. I just wanted to say hi before I head out of town.” Yeah, I’m twenty-nine and still tell my parents when I leave for a trip. I’m that guy. But I—gasp!—like my parents. They’re cool people.
She tilts her head as she scoops tea leaves into a pot. “Yes. Details. I’ve been dying to know since yesterday. Where are you going?”
As I stand at the counter, I give her the short version of what went down after we left the church.
Her jaw is agape. “Wow. All Garrett said was that the groom had taken off, but he was grateful to everyone for coming. Aiden’s an even bigger asshole than I’d thought,” she says as she hits stop on the kettle.
“Mom, I hope you don’t use that language with your clients,” I chide.
“Nope. Just my children,” she says, then pours the hot water over the tea.
I drum my fingers on the counter, energy coursing through me, but a dose of tension too. “Anyway, so we’re taking off. Just wanted you to know in case you can’t reach me for, I dunno, a few hours.”
“Devon, you say that like I’m not used to you being unreachable during eighty-two hockey games a year.”
“You know what I mean.”
Her gentle smile says she does. We like to keep in touch.
Always have. I still have a group chat with my mom, dad, and big sister, who lives in London with her husband.
But Lucy sends us pictures of her meals every day.
Earlier today, she had falafels for lunch in Chelsea before shopping for a new tofu press.
“Yes, send me your GPS location,” Mom jokes. Then her mood shifts and she sighs thoughtfully, drumming her fingers on the counter. “So…Aubrey?”
“Mom,” I chide.
She stares at me over the top of her rose-gold frames. “Well, she is single now.”
Like I’m not already thinking of Aubrey in that dangerous way. “Stop, Mom. Just stop.” I don’t need her fanning the flames. I can do that just fine on my own.
Mom lifts a steaming mug. “She’s feisty, outgoing, funny. Sounds like someone I know. Someone I raised.”
“She was literally about to walk down the aisle yesterday.”
“And now she’s literally about to take a trip with you and Ledger,” she points out.
“Don’t go there.” I can’t, just can’t, linger in that space, for all the reasons Ledger and I laid out last night, starting and ending with the fact that she nearly got married yesterday. The timing is more than wrong.
But that doesn’t explain why these feelings are still dogging me.
“I like her,” Mom says. “Don’t you?”
I say nothing while words tumble in my mind, my muscles tense as sentences start and stop on my tongue.
I roll my shoulders, trying to let go of…
whatever this is. I think back to the times I’ve chatted with Aubrey over the years.
To the hockey games where I’ve seen her and the family events we’ve attended—like Garrett’s Christmas party a few years ago, right before I met Eva.
I swear there was a moment at that party, while Aubrey drank champagne and we cast guests we didn’t know as characters from Christmas movies—she’s the sassy town baker; he’s the hard-nosed lawyer with a secret heart of gold—when I thought about what-ifs.
Then I remembered it’s a bad idea to crush on a friend’s sister. Garrett’s not the “don’t touch my sister” kind of guy, and I’m not the kind of guy a dude needs to keep away from his family.
But I do like things to work out. I like life to go smoothly.
I want parents who get along, a career that fulfills me, a body that performs at the highest level.
What if I messed around with Garrett’s sister and it didn’t work out?
Would she think I was a prick? I don’t like rocking the boat.
It might rock back. It probably would rock back.
Still, I should have objected to the wedding the night before the ceremony.
Better to speak up now even if these feelings go nowhere. “You know what?”
Mom freezes, mug halfway to her lips, eyes alert. “What is it?”
“I think you’re right. I do have a thing for Aubrey, and that thing grew a little stronger after spending the whole day with her yesterday.”
She struggles to hold back her smile but fails. Instead, she tries to hide it behind her mug, taking a sip of tea then setting it down. “And?” she asks.
I shrug. “Doesn’t really matter if I have a thing for her. Now’s just not the right time.”
Holy shit. I don’t struggle over the words, and I don’t feel as tangled up as I did at the bar. Clearly, I needed to get that admission off my chest. Now I can just move forward with the trip, leaving these feelings behind.
“Things don’t always happen at the right time,” Mom says with a wisdom I’ll never possess. “And yet they can still work out.”
“Romance has a way of not working out in my life lately,” I say. “Do I need to remind you about last Christmas?”
I legit thought I’d propose to Eva on Christmas. Instead, she surprised the hell out of me by breaking it off after we went ring shopping. Said I was too focused on my other love—hockey.
Well, hockey doesn’t break my heart, so it’s good that I’m not going to do a damn thing about this attraction.
Mom takes a drink of her tea, giving me a thoughtful look. “But that’s always how it goes, sweetheart. It doesn’t work out until it works out,” she says.
Suddenly, her TV unfreezes and an upbeat feminine voice booms from the TV. “Are you ready for a morning Badass Yoga workout?”
I turn toward the big screen. Mom scurries across the room to grab her remote, the little dogs following at her feet like rats after the pied piper. The freckled blonde on the screen gives a confident, California-girl smile and says, “That’s what I thought.”
“You take Briar’s classes,” I point out. “That’s cool…”
Mom hits pause and whispers conspiratorially. “She’s so…motivating.”
“She was great when she worked with us.” The team hired her to teach some yoga classes last season. She was funny and calm at the same time while giving personalized tips for each athlete who needed them.
“I have a girl crush. Don’t tell your father,” my mom says, finger over her lips.
“I’ll keep your secret.”
“And I’ll keep yours about your crush on Garrett’s sister.”
I shake my head at the Chihuahuas at my feet. “Why is she like this?”
But Lulu and Virgil don’t have an answer.