Chapter Eighteen
“I can’t believe you’re kicking me out without any notice,” Robbie moaned, hauling the last box from the driveway into the truck he borrowed from a friend. “You’re lucky Charlie needs a house sitter. Else you would’ve kicked me out onto the street like some poor sod.”
“You know I would never do that,” Sloane teased.
She was grateful that their mutual friend Charlie, who had just accepted a job in Singapore and was traveling overseas for three months to acclimatize before selling his LA apartment, needed someone to water his plants while he was away.
“But I think it’s finally time for you to be on your own again.
It’s hard to meet people when you’ve got a roommate, don’t you think? ”
“What about you?” Robbie said, slamming the trunk shut. “Who’s going to keep you company in the evenings?”
“I’ll be fine,” Sloane said, holding onto the frame of the driver’s side door, ready to close it and wave dear Robbie goodbye. “I’ve got plenty of work to keep me busy.”
She was meeting up with Kendall in thirty minutes. It was just coffee while doing some edits for the documentary, yet Sloane was beyond excited.
Last night before bed, she had nearly called out to say goodnight to Kendall before she caught herself.
Kendall was at her own home, tucked away in her own bed, far enough from Sloane that she couldn’t simply stroll down the hall to listen out for Kendall’s sleepy, deep breaths or reach out a hand to see if she was still there.
It sucked.
Sloane missed her. A lot. Like too much. Enough to be worrisome.
“Are you sure you’re going to be fine?” Robbie asked, narrowing his gaze, sizing her up for a minute before his face crumpled and he threw his arms around her, sobbing into her hair.
“You really are my best friend. I love you so much, Sloane. Thanks for looking after me when my life fell apart. You have no idea how much you mean to me, buttercup.”
“I love you too, Robbie.” She squeezed him a little tighter. “And you were always going to be fine without me. I’ve never met someone who went through a divorce, lost his house and most of his money, all in one week, and could still smile about it. You’re one tough cookie.”
He choked on a laugh and let her go, his face red and blotchy from the tears. And then, without another word, he climbed into the car, waving goodbye.
Sloane stood on the sidewalk until long after his car had disappeared at the end of the street.
It was warm out. The sun was basking her face.
Her neighbor, whose name she hadn’t yet learned despite living there for four years, was frowning at her over her gardening sheers.
It wasn’t often Sloane stood in her front yard.
On the contrary, it was actually rather strange.
The neighbor probably thought she was disorientated.
But right now, Sloane wanted the sun on her face, the sound of dogs barking in the distance and of children playing. She wanted to see couples jogging down the street so that when she walked back into her house, her world didn’t feel so empty all of a sudden.
But it wasn’t empty.
She was seeing Kendall in just a few minutes.
Suddenly bouncing with elation, Sloane hurried back inside and grabbed her keys.
By the time she reached the coffee shop, Kendall was already sitting on a plush leather couch pushed up against a brick wall. She waved when she spotted her, and Sloane had to bite back the grin spreading across her face before her cheeks cramped.
“You’re early,” Sloane said, sitting down beside her. Not too close, in case their legs or their fingers touched. If that happened, Sloane had no way of knowing if she could resist locking her hand in with Kendall’s.
Flirting with uncertainty felt too much like tempting fate.
“I didn’t have much else to do,” Kendall said, shrugging. “I technically still have another four days left before I’m back at work.”
“Well then, I’ve got you for four days,” Sloane said, the words spilling faster out of her mouth than champagne from a popped cork.
She had no idea why she had said that; insinuating possession of Kendall. But she did, and the woman didn’t look at all bothered. On the contrary, she looked pleased.
“I was hoping you’d say that. I haven’t had this much free time on my hands since I was in college. So, tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”
“How about ordering us some coffee,” Sloane suggested, hoping Kendall would stand up and meander across the room, far enough away for Sloane to get the heat drumming between her thighs under control.
There must be something in the air, because, well, Sloane was feeling very turned on.
She felt like she could straddle Kendall right now and ride her into next year.
If she had to be honest with herself, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about sex with Kendall in that cramped bed in that dingy little cabin in Crestline.
At the time, it was a means to an end, a way to forget all about Louise and Peach.
But what if it wasn’t that simple? What if Sloane had felt something more than just the usual pleasure that came with sex?
What if a switch had been flipped, a string attached to her heart pulled without her permission?
And now everything Kendall did—even just existing—sent electric jolts through Sloane?
The only way to know for sure was to try it again.
“I’ve already ordered us two coffees,” Kendall said, smiling. “And I also got you a croissant. I wasn’t sure if you liked plain, almond, or chocolate, so I got all three. The waiter should be here soon.”
“I love all three, just so you know,” Sloane said, placing her laptop on the wooden coffee table in front of them. “But if I have to choose, I’ll go with plain.”
“A purist. I like that.”
A woman passed by on the sidewalk, her familiar figure framed by the large window of the coffee shop. If Sloane didn’t know any better, she’d say it was—
“That woman looks just like Estelle,” Kendall said, rising a little to get a better look. She tracked the woman until she was out of sight. “Do you think it’s her? I mean, it has to be. She looks just like her.”
She had the same red hair, wore the same flowy dress, and had just as many bangles around her wrist. But there was a distinct difference in the length of her hair. It would be impossible for Estelle to grow another ten inches over the course of a week.
“Of course it’s not,” Sloane said, switching on her laptop. “It’s just pareidolia.”
“Para what?” Kendall asked, brows dipping so low they touched her lashes. “What the hell does that mean?”
Sloane laughed. She hadn’t exactly expected Kendall to know the meaning, since it wasn’t a word people used often. Not unless they were Sherman Pierce, Sloane’s dad. When Sloane was a kid, her father had the habit of teaching her a new word every week. Some stuck more than others.
“Basically.” Sloane shifted to face Kendall.
“It’s when your brain tricks you into seeing a pattern—in this case, a face—or finding meanings in random things,” she explained.
“Like when you see shapes in clouds, or you think you see your grandmother in the foam of your coffee cup. You’re projecting your memories onto that redhead. ”
“I must be missing Estelle,” Kendall joked, falling back onto the couch. “Or maybe I’m missing that farm. I don’t think I’ve ever felt that relaxed. Even with Chuck Norris running about.”
“He was a mean chicken,” Sloane grinned. “I saw him intimidate Sally Williams.”
“Was that the little white hen with those brown flecks on her right wing?”
“Exactly,” Sloane replied, clearly remembering how Chuck had chased Sally into the alpaca paddock.
It was funny really, because just like Kendall, the last time Sloane had felt truly relaxed was around that harvest table, right after Gloria had stopped interrogating them. While sitting under the big blue sky, which later was dotted with so many stars, Sloane had felt small and insignificant.
“I’ve actually been thinking a lot about that offer Natasha made.” Kendall was staring at the cup of coffee the waiter had just deposited on the table. She reached for the sugar and poured in a flat teaspoon. “Is that weird?”
Sloane wasn’t sure how to answer. She hadn’t actually thought the offer had made any real impact. But clearly, it did. Clearly, Kendall had been thinking about it, enough maybe to even accept it.
“I think change can be good,” she declared, feeling slightly ill. “But it also depends on what kind of life you want for yourself. The city life is so different from what you’ll get in Crestline.”
Kendall nodded, but it was more absentminded, as if she wasn’t really listening. Her brain seemed preoccupied, as if weighing the decision to move out of LA, away from her friends, from her life… away from Sloane.
“Look, there’s something I should probably tell—”
“Do you want to have dinner tonight?” Sloane quickly cut in before whatever Kendall wanted to say ruined her good mood.
If the firefighter wanted to move to Crestline, well, then Sloane wouldn’t stop her.
She’d say goodbye and let her go. It was the right thing.
The only thing. They weren’t dating. They were just friends, or colleagues, or whatever you wanted to label it.
Whatever feelings had begun stirring up like leaves caught in a whirlwind should be no real effort to squash down.
Sloane just didn’t want to have to think about that now.
“My place,” she went on. “I’m thinking of trying out a new recipe in one of the cookbooks that Robbie left. Maybe something with salmon. Unless you’re allergic?”
“I’m not,” Kendall smiled softly, picking up her coffee cup. “In fact, I love salmon. We can make sushi together. I’ve never done it before, but it doesn’t look that hard.”
“Sushi it is, then,” Sloane grinned, knowing there was nothing easy about the art of sushi making.