“Tell me one thing that’s wrong with it,” Courtney said.
“It’s in Chicago.”
She scrunched her forehead into a confused frown. “You want a place in the suburbs?”
Being surrounded by children and families would only make me feel more lonely. I shook my head.
“Oh, I get it. You’re pining for that guy in Louisiana.”
I blew out a sigh and watched a woman cross the coffee shop, holding the hand of a little girl about Sophie’s age. “I think I’m pining for Louisiana, period.”
“It’s just a matter of getting re-acclimated.” The barista put our drinks on the counter, and we headed for a table recently vacated by a guy working on a tablet. Courtney licked a bit of foam off the rim of her cup. “Look, you may not want to hear this, but as your friend, I feel the need to tell you anyway. Through no discernible effort of your own, you’ve landed one of the most sought-after jobs in the art world—a job that not only pays well but offers the opportunity to travel and meet fascinating people and influence what kind of art gets seen by thousands of people. That is power. That is a fabulous opportunity. And thanks to your newly discovered late grandfather, you can afford an incredible place to live. Frankly, I’m green with jealousy. Seems to me you’ve got the world by the tail. So what’s with the Debbie Downer attitude?”
She was right. I was behaving like an ungrateful wretch. I put down my iced tea and leaned forward. “Here’s the thing—I rediscovered what I love about art. It’s not looking at it and assessing itand evaluating it as an investment prospect. I like making art, not making money for other people from it.”
She lifted her shoulders. “So do both. Paint in your free time.”
“I won’t have much free time.”
“Well, that’s good. It’ll keep your mind off your Louisiana heartthrob. And you’re in the perfect situation for a job like this. It’s not like you’re tied down with a husband and kids.”
Funny how this pep talk was doing just the opposite of what it was meant to do. My purse buzzed with the “Matt’s calling” ring.
“Isn’t that your phone?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not going to even look at it?”
I didn’t need to.
“Ah. How long are you going to keep avoiding him?”
I lifted my shoulders. My throat felt too tight to reply.
After seeing Gran off with Eddie and Ralph yesterday, I’d grabbed the first plane to Chicago. I hadn’t trusted my resolve, so I’d waited to text Matt until after I’d landed.
A weekend together would just make good-byes all the harder. Decided to spare us both and head back to Chicago early. Loved every minute with you.
He’d immediately called me. I considered not answering, but I couldn’t do that to him.
“You’re standing me up, and just leaving a text?” he’d demanded.
“I don’t have anything else to say, other than what I wrote you.” Tears had pooled in my eyes as I waited for the baggage carousel to start. “I couldn’t enjoy the weekend, knowing it was just a long good-bye. I didn’t see the point in dragging things out.”
“Who says it has to be good-bye? Last I heard, planes fly back and forth all the time.”
My voice sounded choked and raw. “Matt, we both know a long-distance relationship won’t work. You struggle to make time for your kids as it is, and my new job will involve lots of weekend functions and travel.”
“I thought we’d talk about all that this weekend.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. I—I have to hang up now. I see my bag.”
“Wait—you’re already in Chicago?”
“Yeah. Sorry—gotta go.”
He’d called right back. I hadn’t answered. He’d texted.
