“Would you let him know we want to reach out to him?” Adleigh asked gently. “Like email him or something. Do you mind asking him if that’s okay?”
Chris looked startled. “You want to reach out to Briggs?”
She shrugged, then started shredding the wet napkin beneath her iced drink. “I don’t know, Ada and I are so close. She’s the reason I’m... well, I’m who I am today. She was always there for me, always willing to listen to my drama or heartbreak, always cheering me on to keep pushing and working hard and going after my dreams. It meant everything to have an older sister. I’d like to get to know Briggs and be that for him. Maybe we won’t be as close because of the distance, but I’d still like to be a part of his life.”
“We’dlike to be a part of his life,” I added.
“Uh, okay, sure. I’ll email him tonight and ask him what he thinks,” Chris assured us. “I’m sure he’d love to talk to his two older sisters. That’s real sweet of you.”
Unease sloshed in my gut again. Just like when he’d mentioned Mom before, something about his phrasing made my goodwill trip and fall. Like he was gatekeeping his son. Like he didn’t want us to meet or have anything to do with each other. Chris seemed open, but something in the way he wouldn’t look at us fully in the eyes made me skeptical we’d ever get to talk to Briggs.
The conversation turned to lighter topics. We talked about our tastes and the similar favorites we had in common—Flaming Hot Cheetos, Simon and Garfunkel, driving with all the windows down on the highway. He told us some funny work stories about guys he’d worked with over the years. Adleigh and I shared some childhood memories that were full of shenanigans.
Two hours passed before any of us had really noticed. Our coffees had been finished or forgotten. And the sun was dipping toward the horizon. Aside from the awkward beginning, the conversation had been easy.
Parts of me were so filled up from getting to relax and have fun with this man I’d been missing for two decades—whether I wanted to admit it. But parts were also still on high alert, wondering if this was really happening and if we could even trust him. The tension was enough to push me away, even if Chris was making me feel more at home with every kind laugh and funny anecdote.
When there was a lull in the conversation, I said, “Well, I should probably go. I’ve still got a lot to pack tonight.”
Chris’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you moving, Ada?”
“Just across the street,” I explained. “Adleigh was my roommate until recently. When she abandoned me and moved in with her boyfriend, I had to find a new place to live so I could afford rent.”
“Well, you can afford it now,” Adleigh gloated, not at all bothered by the shade I’d thrown her way. Probably because she knew I wasn’t serious.
I kicked her shin. To Chris, I said, “I don’t officially move for another week, but I’m trying to get a jump-start on my bigger projects.”
Seeming to only hear half my answer, he asked, “What day are you moving?”
“Saturday, I think. Well, probably Saturday and Sunday.”
“Do you need help?” he asked casually.
Did I need help? I needed to hire a full-time moving company and pay them extra to package up all my shit. And then carry it down four flights of stairs and then up two more flights to reach my new loft.
My new loft.Just thinking about it made me happy.
“I could help you,” he suggested.
RIP me. Because that was when I died. “I’m sorry?”
“I could help you move,” he repeated. “I’m good at lifting heavy boxes.”
It was my turn to laugh. “Are you?”
“Well, I’m good at lifting most boxes. Although I prefer the small ones.”
“Noted.” Then my mouth betrayed me by laughing a second time. Yep, definitely time to leave. “Well, great, thanks for offering. I’ll text you the address and time. It’s not a big deal or anything, I mean, if you can’t make it. But it would be great to have you there.”
“Count me in,” he said happily.
I picked up my trash, including the small iced coffee I’d only had a few sips of, and walked it over to the trash can. “Uh, thank you for the coffee. And thank you for spending your afternoon with me. I really enjoyed it.”
“Any time, baby girl.”
My mouth went immediately dry at the nickname—the one I hadn’t heard since I was a little girl, but he’d just used with Adleigh. It was cheapened now. Worthless. It had been this thing from my little girl’s mind that was so special, so uniquely for just me. But now I knew the truth. It wasn’t something Chris Kelly used for Ada Kelly. It was what Chris Kelly called every girl he wasn’t quite sure what to do with.
Instead of tacking more awkward goodbyes onto the end of that paragraph, I decided to, well, flee. I hurried out of the coffee shop and down the block, desperately trying not to run. I was a ball of nerves and mixed energy and grief and happiness and stupid, unrelenting paranoia. I was everything all at once. I was happiness and sadness and my normal self at twenty-eight and the little girl who was seven years old and wearing pigtails and overalls.
