“Was it now?”
I nodded. “I wanted to do right. Give without taking. But some NFL guy set me off.”
“Your ego is that fragile?”
“Sadly.” He refilled my scotch and set a bowl of almonds in front of me. “I got jealous like an eighteen-year-old at the prom…or whatever you American kids do.”
“You’re as American as apple pie, you’ve been here so long. Get a grip and go apologize. I can’t stand you moping around here. No one can.”
“Who talked to you?” I stared at Frank.
“Hmm? I can’t say.”
I knew it was Ryan, who was still chatting with Genie and was preparing to take her to the Bahamas for a weekend. I’d refrained from asking him about Wren, but he knew I wanted to… Every time we discussed the film, he dropped hints. “Yeah, yeah. Well, right now I’m playing golf and figuring out how to be a better man.”
He waved his hand at me. “No one better than you. Just grow up and be wiser. She’s not going to wait forever.”
“Thanks, Frank, for the chat. How about a BLT with it?”
“Right on that, tough guy.”
I ended up calling a rideshare to take me home, my head heavy with scotch and regret.
Lying on the lounge chair in my backyard, I debated calling Genie, pumping her for information. I could have Ryan put the squeeze on her, but I’d already acted like a baby once…and I heard Frank telling me to grow up.
So, I did what I’d wanted to do for a month—I dialed Birdie.
Frank hadn’t referred to me as a tough guy for no reason; I could do this.
“Hello.” Wren picked up after the third ring.
Quickly looking at my watch, I calculated it to be a few minutes after ten in Boston.
“Daniel, are you okay?”
Realizing I hadn’t said a word on the line, I cleared my throat. Of course she knew who’d called. “Yes, I’m fine. How are you? I—”
She interrupted me. “I’m good. I finished at the hospital about an hour ago. I operated today.”
In my head, I thought about what day it was. Thursday, her surgery day. Of course she’d been there late, never one to not make sure each and every patient was doing okay.
“Did everything go well?” I asked the question as if it hadn’t been four weeks since we last spoke—since she asked me to leave her house in a note.
“What do you want, Daniel? We don’t need to make small talk. It’s late and I’m tired.”
Her words didn’t come out biting. She was being honest in a way only Wren could be, but I could tell she was slightly caught off guard with my calling. There was a tiny tremble in her tone—her tell.
Closing my eyes, I could see her as if she was in front of me. Only, I wished she was. My hands itched to reach out and pull her close, to hold her and show her how much I cared. I neededher to feel how fast my heart was pounding. “I miss you. Us. All of it. Rourke, living together, making coffee…” My voice trailed off, listing all the ways I missed Wren and Boston. “It’s my fault. I acted like an ass,” I finished with.
Wren stayed quiet on the other side.
“I don’t like this separation. I felt like we had a good thing happening, and I want it back. I was jealous. It was so stupid. Please, Birdie…I love you.”
As the words rushed out of me, I realized it was the first time either of us had said the L word. No doubt I’d felt it and knew it was happening, but we’d never had labels or declarations. Wren and I met in college and fell into a hard like, and it grew into a love when we were adults. There had been so many distractions and countervailing forces, we’d never called what we had what it was. Now, I was naming it what it was—love.
“I was a fool thinking this could happen,” she said. “Us, I mean. I can’t be there in gorgeous and glamorous Los Angeles. And you, being here takes away the life you built. No matter what we are feeling.”
“I love you,” I simply said it again.
