It’s small, the kind of ticket you rip off by the roll at a county fair—and for a moment my stomach sinks. It’s not real, it’s not true. It’s all just been a story, a fable. It was a fairy tale my mother made up, that she was told, too. It’s the tale of our lineage, nothing more. It won’t work.
And it’s this disbelief that pushes me over, truthfully. Because I need to know, now. I need to know if it’s all just been make believe. I need to know if anything about our story—hers and hers and hers and mine—is real.
And so I use it. I wind us to a time before. The betrayal, the car, the Greek, dinner, Paradise Cove, the beach. I turn it all back.
And it feels euphoric to spend it, to open the coffer and blow it all out. To finally let go of the thing I am most closely holding.
What happened is gone, and so is my ticket.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
I wake up to an alarm. But it’s not an alarm, it’s Leo calling. I blink up in bed and swat my nightstand until I unhook my phone.
“Hi,” I say, near croak.
“Hey.” I hear the sounds of the city behind him—awake and talking. “You and Pea leaving for the beach soon? I thought I could catch you.”
I open my eyes. I’m in our house, in West Hollywood. It’s Friday. I’m supposed to drive out to the beach tonight. To start this summer.
I scramble up in bed. “Leo?”
“Yeah? Can you hear me? Babe? Sorry, there’s a siren.”
I press my eyes closed.Oh my God, it worked.
“Hi, no, I’m here, I can hear you.”
“How’s it going? You driving out to the beach tonight?”
I look at my packed suitcases, think about the renter who is supposed to come tomorrow. Pea’s crate. Change of plans.
“I’m not going to the beach,” I say. I find out what is happening as I say it. “I’m coming to New York to be with you.”
I hear Leo’s laugh on the other end. “Laur, babe, you’re scaring me.”
“No!” I say. “I mean, I’m so proud of you. I want to see you in action. And I don’t want to spend the summer at the beach. I want to be with you. I’m booking a ticket now.”
The siren passes. “Lauren? Are you sure? I’m working a ton, the hours are kind of intense. I’m not sure how much…”
“I’m coming, Leo.”
A cacophony of cars honk. “I love it,” he says. “I guess text me when you’re landing? I could try to grab an Uber out to meet you. And see if Tanya will take Pea.”
Our neighbor has two cats that Pea vaguely hates but who won’t put up much of a fuss if she wants to rule the roost for the summer.
“I have it under control,” I say. “Just tell me where we’re going home to. I’ll meet you there.”
“Home!” he says. “It’s a walk-up in Brooklyn, but, baby, if you’re there, it will be.”
The rest is easy. Things are easy when you are running.
I book a flight, pack my bags, and send my mom a text:Going to be with Leo in New York for a bit. Call you from there.
Tanya comes to pick up Pea. She barely manages a meow as I hand her off.
“I’ll miss you,” I say.
Tanya snuggles her close. “We’re going to spend the summer gardening. I hope you like tomatoes!”
