“Romance involved?” the driver asked.
“I’d like to think so.”
“That’s why I’m here,” he said. “I found the love of my life on a dating website.”
I smiled. “That’s great.”
“It was. Until she left me for an oilman last month.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. Houston’s huge and hot and has its problems, but it’s also a pretty great place to live.” He started listing the places he liked to go, and my mind drifted back to Lola—and how I’d ended up in the backseat of this car.
She’d sent me recipes to try from the Yucatan, where she’d grown up. We talked about my mother’s hot chocolate and Lola’s version. I’d tried them both, loved them both, and felt as if my mother were there giving me a hug.
All of which was why I’d followed through on this crazy plan and now said to the Uber driver, “Thanks for the ride.”
“Anytime. Hit up the aquarium!”
I stepped out into the late afternoon and immediately felt like I was melting. It was February, for goodness’ sake, yet I was hot, sticky mess. How did people handle this heat and humidity? Why would they want to?
I tugged my suitcase up the walkway of Lola Cruz’s small, neat house not far from the city’s secondary downtown. At least it didn’t seem that far, but I had looked at a map of Houston and nearly choked. Talk about sprawl…
The thoughts I’d kept at bay as I’d packed and traveled now hammered at my mind: Lennon might not know I’m coming. Lennon might not want me here. This will do nothing for my ability to move on. Am I just going to be torturing myself?
What have I done?
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and pulled up the mental map I’d created of Houston. For whatever reason, maps and interesting facts tended to calm my mind. Hana said they gave me something to latch on to besides my spiraling anxiety. She was probably right.
The city ballooned and zigzagged all over the place, seemingly without end. There were two—two!—loops around the metropolis, connecting various highways and neighborhoods. And the place had a main downtown, but also a secondary one called the Galleria, where there was a big mall and lots of oil and gas companies, as well as restaurants, clubs, wine bars, pubs, jewelry shops, and just about everything else you could think of.
Okay. So Houston was big enough to hold both Lennon and me, should I decide to stay. And it had some of the best cancer hospitals in the nation, should I need to get another position.
Everything would be fine. As my mother used to say, these were obstacles, not Mount Everest. With a resolute nod, I opened my eyes and rolled my case up onto the little stoop, where it caught on the step, and I smashed my big toe. Pain radiated upward as I winced. “Ouch!”
I was a mess. A hot mess, which was the very thing I’d tried so hard to outrun since the night of the attack. I’d worked hard—really, really hard—to move beyond my panic about being alone outside. And about blood.
I was a nurse, so getting over the sight of blood had been accomplished through continued exposure. The first couple of months back on the job had been rougher than during my school years, which had been hard enough.
Clearly, that night in Michigan had left indelible scars on my psyche—just as it had Lennon’s. That was part of why I hadn’t simply called him or just shown up, like I’d dreamed about for weeks after.
My nose stung, and I sniffled as I thought about Lennon’s gentleness with me before the attack. How I missed him.
I wasn’t ready to cut the final tie, but I had to be prepared. We’d diverged on our paths because of our shared trauma. I couldn’t force him to look at me the same way—to not see the woman who’d been part of the assault, the catalyst for his wounds. Just as he couldn’t force the nightmares or squeamishness from my mind.
Coming to Houston was a mistake, my mind suddenly blared. I was smart enough to admit it, and woman enough to own it. But there was nothing I could do to change it. I’d made a commitment. I was a nurse.
“Pull it together, Vivian. This isn’t like you,” I murmured. “You’re stronger than this.” I rubbed three fingers over the space between my eyebrows, desperate for relief from the tension headache building in my skull.
Then I heard the front door open. “Vivi? What…what are—why are you… How?”
My head shot up. Lennon’s voice, all rich cream and smooth chocolate, flowed over my eardrums, making me want to purr. I adored his voice, had from the beginning. My gaze swept up to meet his, and I was shocked to see how much thicker and wilder his beard had become, probably an additional three inches stuck out from his face. His lips had all but disappeared into the mass. His eyes, though, were the same. Warm, focused on me, and filled with some of the off-kilter confusion I was experiencing.
“H-hi, Lennon.” My voice was too high and thin. I swallowed, trying to get better control of myself. “It’s been a while.”
He continued to stare with an intensity that disconcerted me. “I…I just found out you were coming.”
I dropped my gaze, no longer able to bear the weight of his. “Your mother invited me.”
