10
I’m so flustered by seeing Liam that I make a beeline for Wren and Jenna’s without even calling first.
“Well, come on in,” Jenna says when I blow past her entryway, scoop up one of their two hairless cats, Pickles, and cling
to her like a lifeline. “Wine?” she asks.
“Advice first. Then wine.”
She closes the door. “Is Ben okay?”
“Oh, he’s just dandy,” I say, burying my face in Pickles’s soft, pink skin. “As you know, he had his grand idea for me to
find someone else to love before he... you know... and just now my ex-boyfriend showed up on our doorstep to write a story about it.”
I expect her to ask more questions or read my mind, like she sometimes does. Because didn’t I literally just tell Ben that if I was meant to meet someone else, then a man would simply appear out of thin air?
Instead of probing further, Jenna gives me a curious smirk. “Maybe it’s finally time for the cards.” The excitement on her face tells me she has a lot to say but wants to do it through tarot. “You, go sit. Wren!” she calls behind her. “Cards!”
I’m not really that woo-woo, but Wren has given Ben some tarot readings that have blown both our minds. Predictions that have
come true. Readings that have pinpointed, with frightening accuracy, what is going to happen. Though I’ve never asked for
a reading before, getting guidance outside of my own muddled brain isn’t the worst idea I can think of.
I enter their sacred meditation space. My anxiety settles as I breathe in the remnants of palo santo and sage. It’s a small
room, once an office, outfitted with white bookshelves that house all sorts of statues, metaphysical books, and hunks of crystal
that, all together, probably cost more than most of the furniture in my condo. There are oracle decks and imported incense
organized in happy little heaps.
I collapse on a meditation cushion, finally release their cat, and clutch a chunk of amethyst to give my hands something to
do. A few moments later, Jenna enters, eyeing me with interest. “Wren is coming” is all she says.
A moment later, Wren enters with a lit sage bundle. She smudges herself at the entrance to the room, then motions for me to
stand. I extend my arms as she waves the sage smoke over them, then down my legs, between them, and underneath the pads of
my feet as I balance on one foot at a time. I turn and inhale the strong scent, hoping it can clear this strange sense of
unease coursing through my veins.
I’ve been here for Ben’s readings, so I know it’s best if Wren doesn’t know too much about the situation. She doesn’t want
to influence any outcomes. However, we both know that if I’m asking for a reading, this must be serious.
We sit. She grabs a deck from her shelf, takes a clearing breath, and hands me the cards.
“Shuffle, cut the deck three times, and then take three cards of your choice.”
I follow her instructions. She fans them out face down and tells me these three cards signal the past, present, and future.
Though I don’t know what cards are coming, I’m waiting for them to explain what I’m supposed to do about Liam showing up on
my doorstep out of the blue after a decade.
Wren turns over the cards and mumbles to herself before giving me the gist of what they mean. She doesn’t always use a regular
tarot deck, instead choosing individual decks for individual people. This is a deck I’ve never seen before, one called the
Sacred Rebels Oracle, and the illustrations are stunning. She hands me the little guidebook to flip through while she talks.
“So, it seems you are facing the end of something, but out of this ending, you are also being given a gift.” She taps the
first card three times, then nods. “You’re uncertain if you want this gift, but it’s going to be up to you if you accept it.
Whatever you decide, if you accept it or if you don’t, it’s going to change the course of your own fate or destiny. Interesting.”
She moves on to the second card. “This card is all about coincidences showing up in your life. Things that seem like a coincidence
but aren’t. These are signs. Signs you must pay very careful attention to because they could send you in a new direction entirely.”
Chills stud my arms as she moves onto the third card, which is the future. “Hmm, this is interesting.” She holds up a black
card with nothing but curly tendrils of smoke. “Your future is unwritten, a blank canvas almost. You hold the cards in your
hands, Harper. It’s up to you to make the next move.”
I let out a sarcastic groan and smash my face into another pillow just as Jenna walks back into the room. I am buzzing with disbelief at what she just said. My insides feel like they have been shaken up like a carbonated beverage and are about to spew everywhere if I don’t verbally unleash everything that has just transpired in the last few minutes.
I turn to them both, wide-eyed. I fill them in. I give them just enough info about my week with Liam all those years ago to
understand this insane predicament. They cast each other a quick glance, and then Wren darts over to her bookshelf and pulls
down a book.
“You can’t make this shit up,” she murmurs as she flicks to the right page. “Harper, this means something. You realize that, right?” She cocks her head as she assesses me, because they both know I lean more logical than
woo.
“If you’re referring to the man I fell madly in love with a decade ago and then never saw again showing up on my doorstep
just now to write a feature on my dying husband, then yes, I’m getting the message loud and clear.”
Wren studies me and encourages me to take a deep breath, but I feel like my lungs have collapsed. I root around on my meditation
pillow and pull Pickles back into my lap. Her purrs vibrate my legs and help me feel instantly calmer.
Wren scoops the cards back into the deck and begins reshuffling. “Let’s look at the possible outcomes here, okay? Ben made
a wish. The answer to that wish showed up on your doorstep. I kind of don’t see the downside.”
Jenna scoffs. “Of course there’s a downside. She loves Ben. She wants Ben. Not some dude from the past.”
“I didn’t say she wants him. I just said the universe is giving her a gift. The cards said so. Even Harper said so. She told Ben that if the universe
throws her a bone, then she’ll pay attention.”
“As a joke,” I remind them both. “I said that as a joke .”
Wren shrugs. “Well, joke or no joke, it’s up to her what she does with it.”
Jenna huffs. “The only thing that matters is what Harper wants. This is about her life.”
“Hello!” I wave my hand back and forth. “I’m right here. You two are talking about me like I can’t hear you.”
Wren cocks her head again and stares deeply into my eyes. “Fine. I’m talking to you now.” She closes her eyes, opens them,
then softens her gaze. “What do you want most, Harper?”
I almost laugh. What do I want ? When, in the last year, have I even allowed myself to focus on what I want? I close my eyes and attempt to take her question
seriously. After a moment, the fog clears, and I suck in a slow, gentle breath. With my eyes still closed, I answer.
“I want Ben to be cancer-free.”
“What else?” Wren probes. “That one’s a given, but what do you want for you?”
My eyes flick open. “What do you mean, what do I want for me? That is what I want for me!”
“No.” Wren places her hands on my shoulders. “Think deeper. What do you want?”
I resist the urge to wriggle out of her grasp. I’m embarrassed to admit that I haven’t thought about what I want since this whole cancer journey started. Ben’s wishes have become my wishes. His battle has become my battle. I’m not sure where he ends and I begin... and I realize with a sudden jolt that that’s what he’s trying to prepare me for. He’s trying to detach because it’s clear I’m not going to be the one to make the first move.
Wren is waiting. I close my eyes again and really ponder. What do I want? How hard can it be to figure out something just
for me? Small things like a hot bath or a spa vacation roll through my head, but those things aren’t what I really want. Those
are ways to escape. I replay the conversation Ben and I just had in the bathroom about taking my art more seriously and how
defensive I’d become. Was he right? Am I playing small?
“Today, Harper,” Wren finally says.
“Wren, give her a minute,” Jenna snaps.
“Fine. Here goes,” I say. I keep my eyes firmly shut so I can get this out without losing my nerve. “I guess, if I’m being
really honest with myself, part of me would like to know what life would have been like if I’d pursued art instead of teaching.”
The words aren’t even out of my mouth before I feel foolish for saying them.
“Good.” Wren releases me, giving my shoulders a small squeeze. “Now you write it.”
Jenna searches for a journal, rips out a page, then hands me the sheet of paper and a pen.
Begrudgingly, I scribble what I just said onto the paper.
“Now—and this is important, Harper, so really listen. Are you listening?”
I tamp down my annoyance but nod.
“On the next full moon, which is in just a few days, right before midnight, you are going to read this out loud three times,
then burn it. Okay?”
Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. They’re always trying to get me to do stuff on the full moon: manifest what I want, create my best life, cleanse the crystals they gift me but that I inevitably lose five minutes later. I stuff the paper in my pocket and lie back on the pillows, suddenly exhausted. Pickles climbs onto my chest and flattens against me, darting her little nose against my chin.
“How does that ritual help me with Liam? That’s what I need to figure out, not calling in some fantasy world.” I lift my head
and smile at both of them. “How about I just live here for the next week? I can cat-sit and you two can take a vacation to
some New Age conference. Boom. Problem solved.”
“You can’t run from this, Harper,” Wren says, standing to replace the book on the shelf. “It’s time to face your past. And
your present. Literally and figuratively.”
My phone dings. It’s Ben, wondering when I’ll be back. “Sorry, I’ve got to go.” I slide Pickles onto the floor, pull myself
up, give them each a hug, and walk to the door. Wren stops me before I jog down their steps.
“Harper, you owe it to yourself to explore this.”
I balk at her words. “Explore what, Wren? Liam? Because that is one thousandpercent never happening.”
I can see that she wants to say more but doesn’t. “Just promise me you’ll do the ritual.”
I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep, but I nod. “Sure.” I wave and walk the short distance back to our condo.
I pause outside the door, a thousand memories from my past roiling to the surface. I’ve suppressed so much of that time, but
seeing Liam again, here, so unexpected, feels like a small window has cracked open inside me, but the house belongs to Ben.
I belong to Ben.
On the other side of the door, I hear laughing. I groan internally as I enter the condo. Though I didn’t know Liam long, one of his superpowers is making fast friends wherever he goes. He practically let me live with him after knowing me for just five minutes, so I can’t imagine what wonders he’s working on Ben.
“She returns.” Ben tosses up his hands as I enter. I stare at the two open beer bottles between them and rush forward.
“What are you doing?” I grab the neck of the bottle, but he reaches for it before I can snatch it away.
“I’m enjoying a beer with my new pal, Liam,” he says, squeezing the top of Liam’s shoulder. “I’m thinking we might need to
revisit my crazy idea, but for me instead. He’s a total catch.”
I study Ben: his loose, sloppy movements; his red, ruddy cheeks. “Are you drunk?”
“A smidge.” He squishes his fingers together, and I see the afternoon unfold after Liam leaves: nausea. More damage to Ben’s
liver. The relentless headaches. Getting sick.
Sensing my concern, Liam butts in. “He’s only had half a beer.”
“It’s true,” Ben says, his eyes a little glassy. “It’s been a really, really long time. Too long.”
I don’t know what to say, and I hate feeling like a mother instead of his wife. Ben is a grown man. He can do whatever he
wants. In fact, he should only be doing what he wants at this point. “I’m sorry,” I rush to say. “I just haven’t seen you drink in a long time.”
“I think this could have been the key to everything all along.” He hoists the beer bottle and drains the other half as Liam
watches. Liam glances between me and Ben, the tension thick.
“Why don’t I get out of your hair?” Liam picks up his bag and slings it across his chest.
“Where are you staying?” I ask. Please say somewhere across town.
“Across the street at the Edwin. I wanted to be able to walk. New Yorker and all.” He shrugs, and a thousand memories slam back into focus: our perfect week in Brooklyn. The day he took me to all his favorite haunts. Our first kiss. Our last. That horrific, torturous goodbye. The dark void it created in the aftermath. The void it took me a long time to fill.
I swallow the rising lump and offer a smile. “Great.”
“Why don’t you two grab dinner tonight?” Ben asks. “I have a feeling I’m not going to be much in the way of company. But you
two should totes catch up.” He rests his chin in his hands, a crooked smile plastered on his face.
“Did you just say ‘totes’?” I narrow my eyes at him, because I know what he’s doing. He is thinking of his Master Plan, and
I am not falling for it. I turn back to Liam, whose eyes are earnest, almost hopeful. I hesitate and tell myself it’s just
dinner, but it feels like more. It’s facing a time in my life riddled with so much uncertainty and insecurity. So much possibility
and disappointment. So much promise and heartbreak. Looking back, I didn’t even know who I was or what I really wanted. And
I’m not sure I want to spend time with someone who reminds me of that version of myself.
“I don’t think tonight’s the best night,” I say.
Ben groans. “Liam, please take my wife to dinner. She never goes out. Nev-er. ” He enunciates the word in two distinct syllables.
“I go out,” I say defensively.
“Wren and Jenna don’t count.” He turns to Liam and tents his hands in a mock prayer. “Oh, please, sir, my wife needs to eat,”
he whines in a terrible British accent. “We eat mostly soft foods now. It’s like we’re senior citizens and—”
“Oh my God, Ben!” I laugh despite the situation. “I’ll go to dinner if you promise to stop talking like that.”
He mimes locking up his lips and throwing away the key. “I’ll be quiet now.”
For some reason, I can’t look directly at Liam. “I’ll make reservations somewhere.”
“They have a nice restaurant at the hotel. Why don’t we meet there around six?” He adjusts his satchel on his shoulder. “We
can even sit outside so you can make a quick escape.” He winks at Ben, who laughs.
What is actually happening?
“Okay.” I walk him to the door and open it.
Liam turns, his dark eyes flashing. He opens his mouth, closes it. “It’s really good to see you again, Harper,” he finally
says.
I want to tell him I don’t feel the same way, that it’s not great to see him; instead, it’s like someone has sliced open a vein and I can’t get the bleeding to stop. Because the truth
is, Liam is the only man I have never gotten over. The only man I have wondered about. The only man, in my darkest moments,
who, just by thinking about him, could make me pine for a different life. But not since Ben. Since Ben, life has shifted and
bloomed... and yet now it’s wilting like a rotting flower and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
I assumed the residue of my past with Liam had lifted long ago, but apparently it hasn’t. It’s still here, all those feelings
and unmet possibilities so unfiltered and raw. “You too.” The admission is a whisper, as if I’m betraying Ben just by saying
those two tiny words. But it’s not a betrayal. Because even though there’s no one I’d rather travel this bumpy, messy, beautiful
road with—not even healthy, very much alive Liam—seeing him again does feel like some sort of strange gift.
“See you tonight.” He waves and takes off toward the elevator. I close the door and turn, marching over to Ben.
“You need water.”
He grins wider, teetering on his barstool. “Do you think the New York Times planned this? That they looked into you, dug into Liam’s past, and that’s why he’s here?”
“What? Of course not. We knew each other for, like, five minutes,” I say. “It’s just a coincidence.” Even as I say it, I think
of the cards Wren just pulled. This is so not a coincidence, and I know it. A headache hits me right between the eyes. I slide a glass of water over to him and wait
until he takes a healthy slug.
“I’m going to sit out on the balcony and enjoy this buzz. Care to join?”
“Sure.” We plop into our chairs and gaze at the cloudless sky. Ben is grinning and relaxed, while I feel tense, moody almost.
Ben can’t possibly know how much it has impacted me to see Liam again after all these years, and it hurts even more to keep
the truth from him.
When we started dating, Ben and I promised to start fresh. We didn’t bring up our ex-lovers, other than to share some of the
bigger relationships we had and why we broke up. I never brought up Liam, however, because that week was just for me. Besides
Kendall, no one knows about our time together. After a few years, it almost felt like I’d imagined it.
You’re not imagining it , a voice reminds me. Liam is back. And that means I need to tell Ben the truth. I don’t want any secrets between us, even if it’s about the past.
Ben turns his head toward me. “He seems great. Quite a looker, that one. Like Ryan Reynolds, but, you know, less goofy.”
I roll my eyes and push his water, which sits on the glass table between us, toward him. “And what about you? What movie star would you be?”
He squints his eyes and stares at the sky. “I’ve never thought about it before. Maybe someone like Henry Cavill?”
I whistle. “Wow, Foster. Aiming high, are we?”
He cranks his gaze toward me. “And you. You’re totes like a Rachel McAdams. She could play you in a movie.”
“I’ll be sure to remember that when they make a movie of my life.”
“Why did you guys only know each other for a week? Just fell out of touch?”
I open my mouth to spin some version of the truth, but I don’t know where to begin. I don’t know how to explain that for one
amazing week, I had the whole world in the palm of my hand before I threw it all away. Before I messed it all up. “Yeah,”
I say instead. “He let me use his studio while I was working on a project.” I think about how to explain beyond that, how
to dip my toe into the whole sordid story without killing his buzz. Also, going down memory lane seems so futile.
Enjoying my husband before I lose him is the only thing that matters now. I make a promise to tell him the truth another time,
perhaps after Liam is gone and everything settles back to normal.
“Huh,” Ben says, staring down at his glass of water. “Do you ever wonder what could have been?”
I don’t know if he’s talking about Liam or New York, but it feels like a boot is trampling my heart. I reach for his hand.
The pressure releases. I catch my breath.
“No,” I say. “I don’t.”