My phone buzzed in my pocket and I pulled it free, smiling when I saw Cooper’s name lighting up the screen, followed by his text.
“I can feel your indecision from here,” he texted. “Just walk by already!”
I laughed.
When I’d called my old friend a few weeks ago, I’d been terrified thinking he either wouldn’t answer, or would – and would rip me a new one before hanging up and never speaking to me again. But what I got instead was:
“I understand why you stopped talking to me. That girl had issues and you were standing by your woman like any good man would,” he’d started. “What I don’t understand is, you’ve been free of her for over a year and you’re just now calling me? Dude. That’s fucked up.”
I’d grinned at the amusement in his voice, my shoulders relaxing.
“Coop,” I’d said. “What can I say? I’m sorry. I was embarrassed for disappearing like I did.”
“As you should be, man. We could’ve had some epic nights out drinking.”
I laughed. “Goddammit. I’ve missed you. Hollywood still treating you okay?”
“You don’t read the news either anymore?”
I covered my face with my hands and groaned.
“Tell me everything I’ve missed.”
We’d talked for hours, taking a break so I could have dinner, then reconvening an hour or so later. By midnight my time, we were all caught up. He knew how Marley was doing, that she was in school in Seattle, how the folks were and all about Lior, my therapy, and the possible move in my future to the Pacific Northwest. In turn, he told me about the movies he was producing, as well as the one he’d co-written that was currently in production, the woman he was dating, and what his two brothers were up to.
“I needed this, Coop,” I’d said as we said goodbye for the day. “Thanks for picking up.”
“You think I would’ve missed the chance to give you shit?”
We’d talked or texted every day since, which was why he knew about my burning desire to walk by Lior’s house.
I looked down at the text again and typed back, “Shouldn’t you still be sleeping?”
He sent a laughing emoji ahead of his response.
“What is this sleep you speak of? I’m up by five, sometimes four-thirty every day these days. Stop distracting from the assignment. Just do it.”
“FINE.”
He then sent a dozen thumbs up emojis and one of a hand flipping the bird. I grinned and tucked my phone back in my pocket.
“Here goes nothing,” I mumbled under my breath, looking down out of habit for Brontë. It would’ve been so much easier if she were with me. At least we could commiserate over whatever we’d found later at Joe’s. Now I’d have to go it alone, with no good girl to talk to about it after.
I walked the three blocks slowly, trying to distract myself by taking in the scenery. A preschool class wandered by in adorable chaos. An old woman sat on her stoop, giving the stink eye to any who dared cross her path. A young family with one baby in a stroller, and a slightly older child in the dad’s arms, laughed as they walked by. And then I was there, standing across the street from Lior’s home. My eyes immediately went to the third floor where her bedroom was, then moved down slowly until they landed on the for sale sign… and the bold “SOLD” notice that had been tacked across the top of it.
“Well,” I said to the ghost of Brontë. “I guess that’s that.”
I headed to Joe’s next – a dull ache in my chest as I entered the café – gave him a halfhearted wave as he helped a customer with something from the pastry case, ordered my usual, and took a seat inside by the window.
The man himself delivered my coffee, taking a seat across from me as a light snow began to fall outside, the first of the season.
“Still strange seeing you here without the old girl,” he said and I nodded and took a sip of my coffee.
“I find myself looking down to talk to her constantly when I walk.”
“I remember that after our last dog passed. I swore sometimes I still heard her bark even years later.”
I gave him a sad smile.
