Me: It’s Cat. From Taormina. I’m on a borrowed phone.
The pause is so long I think she’s gone.
Noel: Cat?! Are you alive? Are you in trouble?
Me: Both yes. I need a place to disappear. Just for a night.
Noel: You’re in the city?
Me: Kind of.
Noel: My mom’s place in Long Branch is empty till Friday. You remember where the key is, right? The back door sticks so just jiggle and shove.
Something unknots in my chest so fast it hurts.
Me: I owe you twelve cannoli and a kidney.
Noel: You know my family is Sicilian. We prefer cannoli and gossip.
A laugh bubbles up in my chest.
Noel: Text when you’re close. I’ll try to get out of work and come down for a bit. I’ll tell the neighbor not to call the cops when a redhead is digging for the extra key under the fake rock in the garden.
Me: Cops would be bad. Nosy neighbors too.
Noel: Gotcha. You good to get there?
Me: I’ll find a way. And, thank you!
I end the thread, then open Donal’s again before I can think better of it.
Me: Don’t go to 34th. Too hot. Laying low. Will ping you from a crowd later.
Donal: Do not go dark on me.
Me: Wouldn’t dream of it.
I tuck the phone under my thigh like I can anchor the lie physically. The bus sighs into a stop and a cluster of teenagers climbs on, fizzing with drama. One girl has an orange scrunchie in her hair. I tell myself it’s not a sign and touch the blossom once more anyway.
The driver calls my transfer in a voice like gravel. I stand, swing the duffel over my shoulder, and move through the aisle without brushing against anyone. Matteo’s mouth is still onmine like a bruise I asked for. For a second I see him on the rug again, too still, too human, and my stomach lurches.
You did what you had to.
The March air slaps me awake on the curb. Across the lot, a NJ Transit coach idles with LONG BRANCH stuttering across its digital face. I lower my head and join the slow queue, just another tired girl with a bag and a plan that isn’t good but might work.
The beach house is just like I remembered it. Every board creaks in its sleep. I must have dozed off on the sagging couch with the TV lighting up the room and the ocean snoring beyond the dunes. A gull screams, and somewhere in the distance a buoy bell tolls.
A sound by the back door snaps me up. I blink quickly, my heart ramming up my throat.
“Coming,” I rasp, scrubbing at my face and running a hand through my wild hair. “Noel?”
I pad across the thin carpet, salt-sticky air slipping through the loose window seals. The pitter patter of rain echoes off the loose roof tiles outside. Noel texted an hour ago saying her neighbors were out of town and that she got stuck at work. She promised to swing by in the morning with coffee. So why was she here now? Maybe she forgot something or got out early…
I unhook the chain and crack the door.
It isn’t Noel.
Matteo fills the frame like a bad decision I’ve already made twice. His hood is up against the ocean air, hair damp and eyes that green you never quite get used to. The porch light turns thescruff on his jaw a warm gold. Up close he smells like rain on hot pavement and the shadows of coffee.
