20. Cori
Chapter twenty
Cori
I t felt like I’d barely seen my best friends Britta and Marcus since I’d gone looking for Johnny three weeks ago.
Resuming our Sunday brunch ritual finally gave us the chance to catch up, something I didn’t know how much I needed until I felt a sense of fondness, bordering on relief, watching Britta putter around my kitchen.
“You’re enjoying spending time in Everett again?” she asked, unboxing cranberry orange scones onto a ceramic platter. Marcus had stepped outside to take a work call.
I traced the seam of a potholder with my fingers.
I’d been so busy that I hadn’t stopped to consider how much my life had transformed in less than a month, let alone whether I was enjoying it.
With some surprise, I realized I felt…okay.
Good, even. I was still worried about my brother, and Deck confused the hell out of me, but on balance, it felt like I’d made the right decision going back.
“I’m not sure ‘enjoying’ is the word I’d use.
” Reaching into the oven, I pulled out a quiche.
“It’s like, I went years without even dipping a toe in and now, all of a sudden, the old neighborhood is a huge part of my life again—first looking for Johnny, then working at the Center.
” I deposited the pie tin on a hot pad. “But I guess it’s reassuring to know I can still fit in after all this time. ”
Britta smiled encouragingly before handing me a mimosa that was at least two-thirds champagne.
Ten minutes and two scones later, we were discussing the never-ending saga of the 1910s bungalow she and Marcus had been living in and rehabbing for years. As she recounted the headaches of having solar panels installed, I nodded sympathetically, so glad we’d made the time to catch up.
The topic turned to work, as it always did.
Britta lamented the office politics of Marcus’s and her engineering firm.
The familiar stories sparked memories of JBC, but as we weaved between talking about my former company, her job, and my current role at the Center, having a conversation touch on both my adult life and childhood didn’t faze me.
I even offered an anecdote about flooding the kitchen at the Center as a fifteen-year-old when I’d unknowingly used countertop dish soap in the dishwasher.
In my defense, I’d never had a dishwasher at home.
If Britta noticed my unusual openness about my teen years, she didn’t comment, listening attentively while occasionally glancing at her husband, who continued to pace my deck.
Through the glass slider door, we watched Marcus gesturing wildly with one hand as he held his phone with the other, grinning at his penchant for animated hand-talking.
Marcus had been my college boyfriend. We’d even been engaged briefly following graduation.
A year after realizing we were better off as friends, he fell in love with Britta.
They were the only people in my grown-up life who knew the details about my childhood.
Not the super gritty stuff, like Chi-chi, but the basics.
They knew about the trailer park, my mom, Johnny, and growing up poor. And they knew I didn’t like to discuss it.
But neither of them knew about Deck.
Neither of them knew that having him back in my life again was probably the most different thing about this past month.
I’d filled Britta and Marcus in on Johnny’s overdose and HIV diagnosis, but I was vague about the man who helped me find him, saying only that he was someone my brother and I knew as kids.
Britta placed her hand on mine as we sat across the counter. “Cori, it’s good seeing you like this. Lighter somehow. I know you struggled with your decision to leave JBC, but it seems as though everything’s turned out okay.”
The slider glass rattled as Marcus came inside, slipping his phone into his back pocket.
“Everything okay at the office?” Britta asked, handing him a drink.
“Fine. Just some interpersonal shit between our new interns, and honestly, nothing that couldn’t have waited until Monday.” He sounded incredibly irritated, and I recalled how this hard, corporate version of Marcus used to scare me sometimes.
Britta had no such reaction. “Well, you’re the dum-dum who took the call, so you don’t get to complain about being the employee crisis line.”
Marcus’s features softened at his wife’s playful tone. “You’re right, as usual. So let’s forget I picked up and get back to whatever you two were talking about.”
Before I could answer, Britta said, “We were discussing how Cori is starting to loosen up a little.”
Marcus chuckled gently at me. “I’m still having trouble computing that you turned down TremMark. That you’re willingly unemployed. Never would have called that.”
“And that’s a good thing,” Britta said decisively. “Letting yourself get lost can be empowering. Helps you discover new pathways and all that.”
“You’re right that I’m trying to be more open to possibilities,” I conceded, choosing my words carefully. “But to be fair, there’s not too much uncertainty, at least in the short term. I’m focused on being there for Johnny and Rosa.”
My mind went to Deck. All the possibilities there.
Marcus eyed me pensively. “Do you remember what I said when I broke our engagement?”
Huh? The random question jarred me from my thoughts. I glanced at Britta. Her chill when it came to the history between me and her husband always impressed me. She appeared more amused than anything.
“You said lots of things,” I answered Marcus dryly. “Can you be more specific?”
He ignored my snark. “On the day we split, I wanted to find something, anything, to get a rise out of you. You were so calm. It infuriated me.”
“You wanted me to scream at you?”
“We were together for years, and I never saw you be anything other than cool and methodical. Hell, the only time I ever heard you raise your voice was to yell at the TV during a Mariners game.”
“I remember. You called me a robot. You said that you didn’t think we should get married because I wasn’t looking for a husband to love. I was looking for a husband because I thought it was time to get married.”
Marcus nodded. “Right. I didn’t want to be some box you checked off on a list. And the robot comment—that’s what I was getting at just now.”
Annoyance threatened, but we’d rehashed this many times. “What do you mean?”
“I’m reminding you that you were willing to undermine your own happiness to stick to some convoluted plan.
You would have married me even though we didn’t love each other the right way.
And I knew it was because of how you’d grown up even though you never talked about it.
You just wanted stability. To be settled.
” Marcus patted the back of my hand. “Maybe this new willingness to be more uncertain, or even just talk about Everett without shutting down, signals a change. When I ended our engagement, I had to force you away from your plan. Now it’s like you’re finally trying to figure out what you really want.
As your friend, I want you to find a life that makes you scream sometimes.
Or at least clicks you out of robot mode. ” He squeezed my fingers.
My thoughts returned to Deck. He certainly made me want to scream. And our relationship was definitely unsettling. Then and now. Being around him made me feel anything but robotic .
Britta stared at me keenly. “Where did your mind just go, Cori?”
I shook my head, taking a long swig of my mimosa. “Nowhere.” I turned to Marcus. “When did you become such a sage?”
“I have my moments.”
“You certainly do,” Britta agreed, patting Marcus’s ass.
I rolled my eyes as my phone buzzed.
GRAHAM EVANS: Hi Cori. I hope it’s okay I’m texting you.
The visual of Graham’s name on my phone made my brain tilt sideways. We hadn’t spoken since the party on my last day at JBC. Recovering, I replied.
ME: Hi Graham. Totally fine to text. Is everything okay? I hope the JBC folks are settling in at TremMark.
GRAHAM EVANS: All things considered, I’d say it’s going smoothly.
I gave my screen a puzzled look, walking away from Marcus and Britta.
ME: That’s good to hear. Did you need something else, then?
ME: I hope it isn’t to offer me a job again. Because I’m even more sure of my decision to leave.
GRAHAM EVANS: I really admire you sticking to your guns. Like I said, there will always be a job here for you if you want it, but that wasn’t why I texted.
ME: ?
GRAHAM EVANS: Yikes. I’m sorry I’m making such a muck of this.
GRAHAM EVANS: The truth is, I’ve been trying to think of a good reason to reach out, but since it’s been three weeks and I can’t come up with one, I decided to just shoot my shot. Cards on the table, I was hoping you’d have dinner with me.
My eyes widened.
ME: You’re asking me out?
Not the smoothest reply, but my fingers typed before my mind could catch up.
GRAHAM EVANS: Yes. That’s why I texted on a Sunday. Because this is personal, not business.
ME: On a date?
GRAHAM EVANS: Yes. If you’d like to.
I pinched the bridge of my nose, picturing the attractive man I’d liked from the start of TremMark’s buyout of JBC.
With everything going on, Graham reaching out to ask me to dinner had not been on my radar.
I’d barely dated since Marcus, loath to try again after having my carefully curated life upset by his refusal to enter into a passionless marriage.
After we’d split, I’d turned the entirety of my drive into building a successful career.
Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to put myself out there.
But Graham? While it was true I hadn’t felt a spark with him, maybe that was because I’d been denying that side of myself for so long.
I must have waited too long to respond because my phone shook again.
GRAHAM EVANS: I’m sorry if I was too forward in asking. You can feel free to delete this conversation, and if we ever see each other again, we can pretend it never happened.
ME: Sorry. I just have a lot going on right now. It’s been hectic since I left JBC.
GRAHAM EVANS: I understand. No problem.
ME: No. I’m not blowing you off.
ME: It really has been hectic.
ME: I wouldn’t mind getting together and telling you about it. Maybe over coffee?
GRAHAM EVANS: Just name the time and place.
ME: Coffee. Not dinner. And just so we’re clear, let’s not call it a date. I’m not ready for that right now.
GRAHAM EVANS: We’ll call it coffee. And no pressure.
ME: I’ll text next week once I figure it out.
GRAHAM EVANS: Looking forward to it.
I walked back into the kitchen.
“Well, you’re certainly looking…perplexed,” Britta said. “Who was that?”
“A colleague. He wanted to, um, ask me out.”
Britta’s eyes widened. “What? Who? Are you gonna go?”
“One of the TremMark execs. Nice guy named Graham. I’m going to meet him for coffee. Not a date.”
“That’s wonderful.” Britta clapped her hands.
Marcus peered at me skeptically. “You don’t seem too enthusiastic.”
“Honestly, I never really thought of Graham that way before. But after you guys talked about how great it is not to plan everything out, I figure maybe I should say yes to something unexpected for a change.”
“That’s true,” Marcus drawled. “But don’t forget the part about how you were willing to settle for something less than with me. It’s fine getting out there, but…” He twined his fingers with Britta’s. “I found the person who makes me feel fireworks all the time. Not box-checking. That’s the goal.”
Britta kissed him on the cheek. “You are so getting laid tonight.” She turned to me. “Marcus is right, love. You deserve fireworks.”
“Alright, I get it.” I put the scones on the table. “But how about we eat and talk about something other than me and my love life or how I’m unclenching or whatever? I want to hear more about solar panels…”
We spent the next hour discussing their house woes and Marcus’s refereeing of his interns. Inwardly, I thought about how Britta and Marcus didn’t know I’d already found the person who made me feel fireworks .
They didn’t know about the invigorating whiplash I’d gotten interacting with him these past few weeks. How he’d infuriated me at the hospital. How I’d shuddered touching his chest when he rescued me from a broken chair. The way it felt watching him be kind to Reign.
I could easily fall for Deck again. Even when we were off-kilter and tense, he made me feel alive in a way no one else ever had.
But we’d just gotten back in the groove of communicating.
Upsetting that balance seemed imprudent.
Especially with Johnny in rehab. And even if the timing had been perfect, if by some miracle Deck admitted what had always been between us and wanted to explore it, I didn’t know if I could go down that road.
Losing Deck the first time almost broke me, and I’d never truly had him.
Twenty minutes after Britta and Marcus left, there was a knock on my door. I blew out a distracted breath as I went to open it.
“What happened? Did you leave your phone aga—”
Johnny stood on my porch.