Nora raised her eyebrows. Slamming doors, that was serious business.
“Honestly, Nora, I really think I’m almost done there.”
A pit opened in Nora’s stomach. “What?”
“I’m going to start putting out feelers. I don’t know what direction Austin thinks he’s going in, but I’m not interested in it.”
Nora blinked at the screen, stunned. But she shouldn’t be, should she? For months she and Deepa both had been unhappy with some of the new projects being onboarded; their debriefs so often consisted of frustrated disbelief about some new ask, some new plan. And Dee was brilliant, talented, driven, networked.
If she put out feelers, she’d be . . . well, getting felt. Immediately.
But Verdant without Deepa? Nora’s job without Deepa?
She hated to think of it, even though they weren’t working in the same office or time zone anymore.
“Wow,” she managed. “Do you . . . would it help if I talked to him?”
Dee waved a hand. “You’re sweet, and honestly, you’re like one of the only people he listens to, but no. Even if he got his shit together, which he definitely won’t, I still need a change. Maybe I’ll move back to Berkeley, who knows. My parents would love it.”
“Wow,” Nora repeated. “This is . . . a lot.”
“You did it, right? I mean, I know it wasn’t for the same reasons, and yes, those poetry readings still sound completely bananas, but now you’re with your family there, and you’re also dating a hot, handy doctor.”
Nora laughed, but something about it rang false to her own ears. First of all, she was still catching up to the thought of Deepa leaving Verdant. Second of all, something about what Dee had said about Will—about Nora and Will, together—settled uncomfortably in her stomach.
What they were doing, it couldn’t really be calleddating.
She took another drink of her wine, wanting to shake off the thought. For now, this was working; this was what she’d wanted. It was what she wanted even though the rental situation downstairs had been surprisingly unproblematic so far—the responsible, quiet mother and daughter Will had promised, who so far had mostly kept to themselves, and her neighbors for the most part politely resigned, even once or twice complimentary toward Will’s judgment in choosing them. Once, while they’d been out for a walk, Nora had thought of mentioning something about Will to Mrs. Salas—maybe a test run, with talk of towel rods—but she’d lost her nerve at the last minute, a nagging feeling that she’d be doing something disloyal. To her neighbors, to Nonna.
But even more than that, shelikedit, having this secret.
She liked having this thing for herself, in this place where she’d always shared everything.
And she knew Will had his limits, too. She’d seen the look on his face that first morning, when she’d come back from the bathroom, and it was familiar to her: faraway and pained. He’d looked like that once before in her bedroom, the night she’d been sick, and she hadn’t wanted to see that look again.
So she kept it light, kept it specific. A project, an interlude. Each time, a casual, no-promises goodbye.
It was working for both of them.
Wasn’t it?
She cleared her throat, setting down her glass and folding her arms across her chest. On-screen, Dee looked as put together as she always did, but Nora could still see strain from the day in her eyes.
“Dee,” she said, her tone serious. “You know if you go, I’m one hundred percent in your corner. Whatever you need, you have it from me.”
Deepa had done the same for her, all those months ago, when Nora had decided to come back to Chicago for good. She’d never missed a beat: helped Nora pack the things she was taking, helped her sell what she wasn’t, helped her plan what to say to Austin about telework. Made promises about staying in touch that she’d always, always kept, even though the truth was, Dee’s friend circle had always been much bigger than Nora’s.
“I know,” Dee said, tapping the side of her glass with one polished nail. “I’d miss you, of course. But I miss you now, and we handle it.”
Nora smiled. “I miss you, too. Thank goodness for these cameras, huh?” She uncrossed her arms, picking up her glass again and raising it to Dee, to technology, to their long-distance friendship.
Dee toasted her back, then smiled wickedly. “Now tell me real quick before he gets there. What do you trade a man for putting a new light in your bathroom?”
“Please tell me I can have more of this.”
Will and Nora sat at two ends of the old couch, his faded jeans and worn blue-gray T-shirt a hilariously monochrome contrast to the loud floral pattern of the upholstery. In his hands he held the empty, shallow bowl that had, only moments ago, been pretty full up with the pasta Nora had made, a promise from that night on the beach that she was overdue in fulfilling. She hadn’t quite planned to serve it fresh—she’d thought it would be too late for a meal, that Will would want to take it with him when he left. But only seconds after she’d opened the door to him, he’d turned his head toward the kitchen, his eyes going adorably wide.
“Is that your sauce?” he’d said, abandoning the box with the new light fixture right there on the floor of the entryway.
