And my brain knows that’s true. And a piece of my heart is happy. This is what I wanted. This was the goal all along.
So why do I feel so fucking sad?
“Well, I am really glad you all have impeccable timing,” I tell Patty. “If I’d missed this, I would’ve been really upset.”
She smiles. “Now, don’t eat too much of it, you have to taste each of the six.”
I pretend to sigh heavily. “Well, if I have to, I have to.”
I getto my penthouse in Portland just before six p.m. West Coast time. I have just a few minutes before I need to get on the video call with Sam for his podcast.
I’d sent him a text earlier in the day telling him that there was a change of plans, and that we didn’t need to talk about the Rebel Revelers anymore.
Sam had insisted he still wanted to talk.
I’ve been expecting that. The news of Coach Leon’s arrest had shocked the hockey world, not just the Grays, and of course, a sports podcaster like Sam would want to talk it out. The fact that he had a past player and the guy who was going to be stepping into the coach's position made the interview all the juicier.
I run a hand through my hair, gulp down a glass of water, and check my reflection in the mirror.
I look pretty good.
That’s what traveling by private plane instead of commercial will do for you.
I shake my head.
I had been dreading the flight even on a private plane. Astrid had even arranged for the plane to pick me up on the airstrip outside of Rebel, and the ride out there had felt heavier with each mile.
What the fuck is my problem?
I sigh and look around my apartment.
It is soquiethere. No muffled laughter and conversation drifting through the floorboards. No kitchen sounds coming up the steps. And it does not smell like cinnamon and coffee. There are also zero flowers on any of the upholstery. But instead of making things look better, I’m just struck by how lacking in color and how uninteresting my apartment is. Sure, it’s sleek and modern. Expensive. And no one’s died here. But the pieces have no history. There’s no story behind any of them. There’s no character.
Is it possible to buy a candle that will make the place smell like cinnamon rolls and coffee in the morning? Or hell, I could just get a coffee pot. I don’t drink the stuff, but I could brew it to get the scent. Seems wasteful, but maybe I could give the coffee to my doorman.
The alarm on my phone chirps, and I realize I need to log in to the video call.
I settle into the extremely comfortable, buttery leather office chair at my desk, which faces a window overlooking downtown Portland.
The view is spectacular. And is just about as different from the view out my window in Rebel as I could possibly get.
Before I log in for the call, I fire off a quick text.
Alex:do you think Bruce would let me have the lamp from the bedside table in the apartment?
It’s only a minute before Ruth replies.He says he’ll sell it to you. And he’s not paying to ship it.
I grin.Astrid can send it with my other stuff. Ask him if a thousand is enough.
Ruth:wide-eyed emoji. That lamp is like fifty years old, and there’s probably a dozen like it at the flea market.
I laugh for the first time since leaving Perks and Rec earlier.I want that one. It’s sentimental.
Ruth:He says twelve hundred.
Of course he did.
Alex:I’ll send it electronically right now.I grin even as I hit send. There is no way Bruce has any money transfer apps.
