The Wharf was crowded with families and other groups, all of them milling around, taking in the sights and lining up for food at the booths and stands. I stopped at an ice cream stand and bought myself a mint chocolate chip cone. Nearby, there was a huge crab-shaped shrubbery, complete with claws made of metal. I smiled as I found a seat on one of its adjacent benches.
It was impossible to feel alone in this place, with its bustle and crowds, yet for the first time since my early days in California, I was lonely. It wasn’t something sudden: whether it was the fact that I’d finished the job I’d come out here to do, or the fun I’d had while Zelda was visiting, bringing me a tempting taste of home, or just that my texting-only relationship with Leo had escalated to a point where I physically ached to see him again, my longing for the familiar had been building steadily.
I was down to the very end of my cone, about to take the last bite, when I felt a hand on my shoulder and heard a familiar voice.
“Once upon a time, you used to save me at least a bite of your ice cream cone.”
My heart leaped into my throat, and I nearly choked as I spun around, dropping the rest of the cone. For a dizzying moment, I was certain that I was hallucinating.
Leo stood behind me, grinning. His eyes drank me in, but he didn’t reach for me. Instead, he jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, watching me and waiting.
For several beats of my heart, I was frozen in place, immobilized by shock. And then a wellspring of gladness broke inside me, and I launched myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck and clinging as tight as I could.
When his arms circled around my waist, holding me close, every last bit of loneliness and uncertainty vanished like the early morning fog. For the first time in forever, I was complete.
