Chapter 19
On Monday morning I was back in the office, which was about as pleasant as chewing glass.
The hoopla around my new astronaut boyfriend had become a sideshow to Rebecca’s dramatic production of woe is me because we’d moved out before satisfying her that Max was the good guy I believed him to be.
I didn’t need a front-row seat to this particular drama and was planning to give her a wide berth for the rest of the week.
But then, on Tuesday, Rebecca surprised me by asking to stop by so she could see the apartment and take Lucy to tennis camp.
Or at least that was the pretext; she was probably scanning the building perimeter and interviewing the doorman on his security procedures.
Nevertheless, I was happy to oblige, as a détente was far preferable to the current cold war, and the truth was I really did love the Packers and already missed our easy routines around the house.
Although it would be different living apart, I looked forward to the day, hopefully soon, when our unusual little family unit found its new equilibrium.
So when Rebecca arrived at my apartment door with the warm smile that had gone underground for the last several days and a beautiful arrangement of succulents, I couldn’t have been more relieved.
Lucy and I gave her the nickel tour, and she oohed and aahed over Lucy’s new bedroom before leaving with Lucy to meet William at the tennis club.
On Wednesday, I dropped Lucy at tennis camp and then pretended to work from home—as in, my new apartment.
I needed some uninterrupted time to weed out Lucy’s toy bins.
I’d made the mistake of involving her when we packed up her bedroom, and she’d been unable to part with a single item.
I was debating the fate of an annoying, screeching rubber chicken when the apartment intercom buzzed.
“Ms. Packer, this is Tony down at the front desk. I have a delivery you need to sign for. Can you come down?”
The new dresser and bed I’d ordered for Lucy’s bedroom had arrived on Monday, so I had no idea what was waiting for me downstairs. I tossed the rubber chicken to Sam The Dog, condemning it to a noisy, gruesome death, and then I slipped on my flip-flops and headed to the front desk.
When the elevator doors opened, I spotted an enormous flower arrangement across the lobby. They had to be from Max. My heart soared at the thoughtful gesture, and I practically skipped across the marble floor.
The doorman nodded at me. “Those are some beautiful flowers.”
“They sure are,” I responded as I snatched the small blush-pink envelope tucked into the arrangement, eager to read his note. His mission had turned out to be quite intense, so we’d exchanged only a handful of brief messages over the last few days. Each one had left me wanting more.
I ripped open the envelope. Congratulations, Thea! You’re a New York Times bestseller! xo Harper
“Holy shit!” I screamed and then clasped my hand over my mouth.
“Everything OK?” Tony asked.
“You could definitely say that! My novel just hit the New York Times bestseller list!” I clutched Harper’s note as I savored those delicious words.
They were sweet enough to erase my fleeting disappointment that the flowers weren’t from Max.
Instinctively, I reached for the pendant nestled between my collarbones on what I now definitively thought of as “Max’s lucky necklace,” and rolled the stone between my fingers.
I couldn’t wait to tell him. And everyone!
“Congratulations,” Tony said as I floated back across the lobby.
The instant I walked into my apartment, I texted Max. I know you’re busy, but I have huge news: I’m a NYT bestseller!! I can’t believe it!!!
I wasn’t expecting an immediate response—usually it took him a while to get back to me—so I almost jumped out of my skin when my phone dinged less than a minute later. Congratulations Thea! I can’t say I’m surprised! In case I haven’t said this out loud: You are Awesome!!
Unable to contain my excitement, I fired back several texts.
Awesome, huh?
Coming from the man who taught me the true meaning of that word, that may be one of the best compliments I’ve ever received.
See you this weekend?
Counting the days till your return!
I stared at the phone and waited for another text, but when it didn’t come, I turned my attention to the others on my “special people” list, those who I knew would be sad if they didn’t hear the news first from me.
I had no business being greedy for even more of Max’s attention.
One epic compliment—and the knowledge he was with me in spirit, if not in person—would have to be enough to fortify me for the time being.
First, I shot off a text to Rebecca and William: Will I see you both at tennis pickup later? I have some Really exciting news to share!
William sent back a message with his usual flair: Yes. Good.
Over the years, Rebecca and I had harangued William mercilessly about his texting style.
We’d shown him how to find the emoji keyboard, and encouraged him to think of texting like chatting over a beer or talking to Lucy.
Given how jovial he was known to be in those situations, this should have worked well.
But for reasons we could never understand, he’d clung to the impression that texting was a communication medium more akin to telegrams or Morse code messages.
Rebecca promptly appended a haha emoji to William’s cursory response and then demonstrated an appropriate reply: Can’t wait to hear! See you at the tennis shack at 3!
Then I texted Frannie, who responded in what felt like eleven seconds flat by bursting through my apartment door and flinging herself at me with a scream.
“Holy crap, Thee! A bestseller? That’s so freaking amazing!
” she said, swinging me around my living room, an impressive feat for such a diminutive person.
When she finally set me down, I couldn’t stop beaming at her.
I silently thanked my lucky stars again for the USC residential housing department employee who had thought to put the two of us together twelve years ago.
Whether our pairing was due to a wicked game of roommate roulette or someone’s idea of a fun social experiment, there’d been magic in our matchup.
Tears of gratitude sprang to my eyes. “I can’t believe it!
For the first time since Sam died, I feel like I’m living a charmed life. ”
“See, you should have listened to me years ago, when I said you deserved to be happy. You’ve earned it.
And I’m always right. Never forget that.
” She grinned, and I tried to ignore the implications of that statement.
“I can’t stay now, but I’ll be back with some bubbly later tonight so we can celebrate properly.
” She pointed to her ever-present headset and unmuted herself.
I grabbed her arm as she turned to leave and whispered, “I couldn’t have done it—any of this, really”—I waved my arms, hoping she understood the gesture to capture the whole of my last six years—“without you.”
Her big-toothed smile, the one she reserved for special occasions, bloomed on her face, and she formed a heart with her hands before closing the door behind her.
As I wiped away a tear, Sam The Dog hovered at my feet, clearly sensing the high emotional energy in the room.
I scooped him up and gave him a big squeeze as I flashed back to that fateful evening, less than two years ago, when I’d been on the verge of abandoning my writing career forever.
It had been Sam The Dog’s insatiable puppy appetite for LEGO people in spacesuits that handed me my larger-than-life hero, which had, in turn, delivered me to these new and unfamiliar heights—as a bestselling author with a dreamy new boyfriend.
A boyfriend who’d reminded me just enough of Sam to get me over the hump toward being able to imagine loving someone again.
A biscuit or three had been earned by this furry little wiggling canine.
I set him down and unscrewed the treat jar on the kitchen counter, smiling as Sam The Dog twirled with excitement.
I feel exactly the same, pal. Then I knelt down and fed him a handful of biscuits, one at a time, as I praised him for being the best, most clairvoyant dog in the universe.
Because whether one credited magic or not, it was undeniable that I’d published a book filled with my wildest imaginings of a happy life, and everything I’d written was coming true.