45. The Long Game
FORTY-FIVE
THE LONG GAME
? What If I Love You - Gatlin
CLIO
“I can’t believe I have to work on your birthday.” Quinn pulls a dramatic pout and slides my coffee across the counter. It’s my usual, but she added extra whipped topping and rainbow sprinkles.
“Wait. I almost forgot.” She pulls a single pink-and-white candle out of her apron pocket and places it in the middle of the whipped cream swirl. With a flick of the lighter, she tells me to make a wish.
I’ve made countless wishes over the years, on dandelions and shooting stars, birthday candles and wishing wells.
None of them have come to fruition, but I keep wishing all the same.
It’s part of the whimsy of it all. Life can beat you down sometimes, but if you look close, you’ll find little sparks of joy all around you—like pennies on the sidewalk or extra sprinkles on your morning coffee put there by a friend who loves you.
I stare at the flickering flame.
I could wish to forget, but there’s no solace in that, and I don’t have any regrets about the time we spent together.
I could wish for a second chance, but the heartbreak would only hurt worse the second time around.
When you lose someone, whether they’re across the hall or six feet underground, the hardest part isn’t the loss; it’s the missing them that lingers in the aftermath.
With an echo of longing in my heart, I close my eyes and blow out the candle.
I wish I could stop missing him.
It’s a fleeting hope, and it’s not likely to come true, so what harm is there in wishing for it?
“What did you wish for?” Quinn asks as smoke billows off the ashen wick.
“If I tell you, it won’t come true.” I snatch the cup off the counter and take a long drink, coming away with whipped cream on my nose and upper lip.
Quinn laughs and hands me a napkin.
I clean my face, and she leans across the counter. “So, any big plans for the day?”
I ball up the napkin and toss it into a nearby trash can. “Not really. I’m meeting up with Callie in a bit. Lunch at Catalano’s, maybe stop by the library.”
My sister tried to set me up on a double date, but I declined.
It’s too soon, even if the whole thing started under the pretense of learning to date again.
Right now, I want to focus on more important things.
I want to finally put down roots and build a sustainable life for Lexi and me.
The last house we visited didn’t pan out, but I’ll keep looking, and maybe I’ll finally get that dog I’ve always wanted.
The bell above the door chimes, and I move to the side to let the next patron order.
“I should go. Come by after work and have cake with us,” I tell her.
“Wait. I have something for you.”
She reaches into her apron pocket again, but instead of a candle she pulls out an envelope. “He didn’t tell me what it was. He just said you’ll understand when you see it.”
He. It hits me like a dagger to my heart. “Noah? Why didn’t he just give it to me himself?”
She shrugs. “Don’t know. You’ll have to ask him when you see him.” There’s a subtle glint in her eyes, but the next customer is getting impatient, so I take my leave.
Standing on the sidewalk outside of the coffee shop, I tear open the envelope and pull out a small slip of paper no bigger than a 4x6 photograph.
It’s a sketch.
Noah’s bike is parked on the cliffs, and I’m sitting on his lap. The memory plays out like an old black and white movie as I lean in and kiss him, my fingers tangling in his hair. I still dream about that kiss sometimes.
So much for birthday wishes.
I slide the sketch back into the envelope and tuck it in my purse as I wait for the ache to subside.
Find the joy, Clio.
I swallow my discomfort and plaster on a smile. It’s my birthday, and I refuse to be sad on my birthday.
Callie is standing outside Catalano’s, and I practically tackle her to the ground with a forceful hug.
“What was that for?” she asks, laughing around the words.
“It’s my birthday,” I sing-song.
She holds up a takeout bag. “And I brought lunch. Figured since it’s a beautiful day out, we could go eat at the gazebo.”
I lock my elbow through hers as we meander toward our destination. Several people pass by and wish me a happy birthday, including a couple of my students. It makes me feel special in a way I’ve never experienced. Penny did her best, but it’s different having a whole community rally around you.
We sit on opposite sides of the steps, and Callie passes me a takeout box. The scent of grilled cheese wafts out of it, making my mouth water. “You got my favorite.”
“Of course. Only the best for my much, much older sister.”
I toss a french fry at her head, but she ducks out of the way, and a pigeon makes a mad dash for it. “I’m only five years older than you.”
“Mhm. I got you a subscription to Silver Fox magazine and a fresh tube of tennis balls for your walker.”
“Rude. I was going to offer you my pickle, but I think I’ll keep it.”
“I don’t even need your pickles.” She reaches into the bag and pulls out a whole jar from the deli. “I’m fully stocked.”
“At this point your blood has to be at least seventy-five percent pickle juice.”
“Worth it,” she mumbles around a bite.
We eat in companionable silence under the shade of the gazebo, with a late summer breeze dancing across my skin. When my belly is full, I set my leftovers into the empty container and lean back on my hands.
Callie mirrors my movement and places her hand over mine. “I’m glad you’re here.” She speaks with so much sincerity. “We went through a lot of shit to get here, but I’d do it all over again, you know? To be here with you. To have Jax and the girls. It was all worth it in the end.”
My eyes sting with unshed tears as I turn to look at her. “I’m proud of you. You’re stronger than me. I’m not sure I could’ve endured all you went through.”
“I got my strength from you.” She links her pinky finger around mine. “You told me to be brave, and I took that to heart. We both had different paths to travel, but that doesn’t mean yours was any easier.”
“I had Penny. You were alone, and that’s my fault. I left you with those monsters.”
“I don’t resent you for any of it. Maybe I did once, but I’ve made my peace with the past. You should, too. You had to make an impossible choice. Please don’t let that guilt eat you up inside.”
“I still have nightmares. About Rodney and Mom.”
“They don’t deserve to have that power over you.
Not anymore. They got what they deserved in the end.
” She slides across the steps until we’re hip to hip, then she wraps her arms around me.
“I told you a long time ago there was nothing to forgive, but maybe that’s not what you needed to hear, so I’ll say it now.
I forgive you. Now you have to forgive yourself. ”
I bury my face against her shoulder and let the tears fall in earnest as I return the embrace. I didn’t realize how badly I needed to hear those words until this very moment. It’s like a weight has finally been lifted.
When the tears subside, I finally let her go, and she places another envelope in my hands. “Let him earn your forgiveness, too.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
“Do you still love him?”
“Yes.”
“Then you owe it to yourself to try.”
I slip my finger under the flap and pull out another sketch. This time it’s the two of us dancing in the town square. I can almost hear the fading notes of “Wonderwall” playing in my head. He didn’t kiss me that time, but I wish he had.
“He’s trying. Give him a chance.”
A vintage-style birthday cake in my favorite shade of coral sits in the center of the table with two gold number three candles in the middle as Lexi, Hayden, Quinn, and Auggie sing happy birthday at the top of their lungs.
As the song comes to an end and they draw out the last note, I blow out the candle, wishing for another year of happiness for the people I love most. I can’t wish for something more this time.
Quinn takes it upon herself to cut the cake and hand out the slices.
I offered to help, but she insisted that the birthday girl should sit back and relax, and who am I to complain?
There’s still a part of me that wants to take over and make sure everyone has what they need, but she’s quieter than she used to be.
Auggie gives me a friendship bracelet he made with Emma and a colorful picture of what I think is supposed to be a dog colored in with rainbow markers. “Do you like it?”
“Are you kidding me? I love it. Best birthday present ever.”
My phone chimes for the hundredth time today, and I pick it up, hoping I'll find the happy birthday text I’ve been waiting for, but it’s just a notification from one of my many apps offering me another freebie.
I tamp down my disappointment and take another bite of the marble cake with chocolate ganache in the middle—my favorite. I’d recognize an Olivia Sullivan creation anywhere. Lexi did good.
Sometime later, she slides another, now-familiar envelope across the coffee table and a zing of anticipation rockets through me.
This time, it’s a sketch of Noah and me on the fire escape with my favorite blanket wrapped around us and my head resting on his shoulder.
It’s drawn as though a spectator is standing behind us, the moon’s glow casting us in shadow, the window pane framing us.
In the top corner, in Noah’s messy handwriting, it says ‘meet me at our spot’.
I glance at Lexi.
She smiles and says, “Go.”
And that’s all the encouragement I need.
With each step closer to my destination, the fluttering in my chest intensifies. The instinct to guard my heart is strong, but I fear I’ve already lost that battle; otherwise, I wouldn’t be entertaining whatever this is.
I slip through the open window onto the fire escape as the rumbling of an engine grows louder. As I grip the railing to steady myself, that’s when I see him. Noah Westson in his black jeans and leather jacket, idling in the alley below.