48. Make a wish
Forty-Eight
MAKE A WISH
Liv
Cups of coffee, and two croissants in hand, we drop our keys at Holly’s desk. Sunny howls from his carrier, clawing at the fabric, trying to escape.
“Keep in touch about the social media stuff, okay?” I say to her as she kneels down on the floor and makes kissing sounds at Sunny.
“I absolutely will. Thank you both so much for everything.”
Sunny rubs his head against the edge of the carrier. Holly slips her finger into the top and scratches his ear.
“You all run a beautiful house.” Viv smiles, and Holly wraps her arms around her in a warm hug, coming for me next.
“Drive safely.”
We wave goodbye and wheel our bags plus Sunny out onto the front step.
“I’ll grab the car and bring it over.” Viv takes off to get the car, and I’m left standing there, eyes wandering around the grounds, taking mental pictures of everything.
I woke up early enough to watch the sunrise from the patio outside my room and marveled once more at how, when this piece of the world wakes up, it feels so unbelievably different from the city. I allowed myself, for a moment, to recognize that I’ll miss this. The peace, the lake, the people.
Luke.
As casually as I can, I look around wondering if he’ll come say goodbye one more time, but I think I know better. It would be suspicious if he did, and I’m not sure it would be so great for my heart either.
Pop’s Subaru Forester pulls up, Viv puts it in park, and punches the button for the trunk. We haul our bags into the back, place Sunny on the back seat, and assume our spots in the two front seats. Viv in the driver’s seat, driving the first leg of the trip, with me riding passenger princess.
“Ready?” she asks, seatbelt clicking into place.
I nod before my voice finds me. “Yup.”
“Buckle up, buttercup. We’ve got a long ride ahead of us. Playlist, please.”
Music on and the windows down, we cruise onto the highway. I drop my head back and look at the scenery flying by, content to pretend I’m not leaving a piece of my heart with a sandy-haired man back in Maple Cove.
The traffic in the city is an unwelcome reminder of home. After dropping Viv off, Sunny and I find a parking spot a couple blocks away and walk the rest of the way home. By the time we are at the top of the fifth-floor walk-up, I’m sweating profusely, and Sunny is meowing like he’s being stabbed.
I swing the metal door open to my neglected apartment.
The warm afternoon sun splashes against the hardwood floors, highlighting the dust motes drifting in the air.
The plants along the window are wilted and thirsty.
Sunny, officially free of his carrier, sprints and leaps onto the couch and begins fluffing the throw blanket.
I make the trek back downstairs and grab the bag I left in the foyer.
The muscles in my legs burn from the exertion, not having been used in such a way for the last ten days.
“I don’t want to, but I think I need to unpack now before I sit or it’ll never get done,” I say to Sunny, who’s not listening.
Standing in the middle of my living room, hands on my hips, I debate opening a window to bring some fresh air in. With a huff, I make my decision and push open the bedroom window since it’s the only one with a screen.
It’s surprising how loud the city is. Cars are honking. People are yelling. A truck with a too-loud exhaust rumbles by.
You won’t hear it by tomorrow.
With the plants watered, clothes unpacked, and Sunny’s food dishes filled, I snuggle into my favorite chair by the window, the book Fran gave me in hand. Not three pages in, my phone rings, Pop’s name scrolling across the top of the screen. This is why it takes me forever to finish a book, Fran.
“Hey kiddo, Raphael and I are here. Wanna bring my keys down and I’ll take ya out to dinner?” His gruff voice hums through the phone.
“Let’s raincheck on dinner. I already ordered for delivery. Sorry, Pop. I’m tired anyway. Driving all day is surprisingly exhausting.” I rummage through my bag and pull out his keys.
“I’ll be right down.”
“There she is! I feel like I haven’t seen you in…”
My heart rate spikes knowing I have news to share with him. Now is not the time.
“A whole ten days!” I answer, tucking myself into Pop’s outstretched arms.
“How was it? Good to be home?” he asks, giving me one more tight squeeze.
I open my mouth to answer, but the words get lodged in my throat. I swallow and try again.
“It was great. I’ll admit, you were right—the break from work and life was more necessary than I thought.”
“Good, good, good.”
I hold out the keys and drop them into his outstretched hand.
“The car is two blocks that way on 45th. How about I come by this week for dinner?” I ask, knowing I need to tell him what I learned about Mom, and not wanting to sit on it too long.
“I’d love that.” Pop leans in and squeezes my shoulders, planting a kiss on my cheek. “I missed you, kiddo. I’m glad you’re home.”
“Missed you too, Pop,” I wave him off as he walks down the busy sidewalk, still very much alive with people passing by. My nose wrinkles at the assault of smells—hotdogs, discarded cigarettes, and garbage that’s been in the heat too long—before I make my way back upstairs.
I kick my feet out from under the covers in a fit of restlessness, startling Sunny beside me. I thought I’d miss my bed. Instead, all I feel is cramped. The too-bright digital clock next to my bed reads 2:03 a.m. Groaning, I turn back to the ceiling, my hand resting across Sunny’s belly.
This is silly. I slide out of bed. Sunny follows me out into the living room where I grab the blanket off the couch and find myself once again in the armchair by the window.
I watched the sun slide behind the buildings earlier, and now, though I know I’ll find none, I’m seeking the stars. A hefty orange body climbs into my lap, curling up in the hammock created by the blanket, purring deeply.
Releasing a sigh, the back of my head meets the back of the chair.
My eyes slide closed, and I’m met with gray-green eyes that remind me of summer, muscular arms holding me close, and the rasp of a voice as smooth as whiskey in my ear.
Make a wish, he says, his soft lips finding the side of my head.
I stir at the memory, staring out into the inky darkness outside my window.