“I will.” There’s a beat of silence. “Ask.”
“Ask what?”
“Rina. You are not as coy as you think you are. You want to know about him.”
The first time we had a girls’ night together, I had one too many glasses of wine and ended up spilling all about him. And given that she asked at school the next day about any late arrivals, I had to let her know.
She put it together immediately by just his first name.
“Can’t even say his name, hmm?”
“Rina. Stop it. I can too say his name.”
“Then say it,” Rina prods. “Just so I know you can.”
“Marcus.” I spit it out, even though it takes like battery acid on my tongue. “Marcus, Marcus, Marcus.”
“You didn’t have to say it three times, you know. It’s not like Beetlejuice. You’re not going to summon him.”
“Yeah, but saying it twice is weird.”
“Do you want to slap me for making you say it?” Rina laughs.
“Only a little.”
Clicking the fob on my car, I drop my bag into the front seat of my small Civic and get in.
“I still love you even when you want to slap me.”
“I still love you even when you make me say his name. I’ll text you updates.”
“Have fun, bye.”
“Bye, Rina.”
Tossing my phone down, I head toward the first address that my realtor texted me.
I keep thinking about Marcus as I’m driving. I don’t know how our paths haven’t crossed at school before now, but since his daughters aren’t in my class, maybe I won’t see him again.
It’s okay.
It’ll be fine.
Fine.
I wonder how many times I’m going to have to tell myself that to believe it.
I push those thoughts aside for now. I have better things to do today. Like house hunting. It’s something I’ve wanted for so long and it’s hard to believe the day is finally here.
Pulling up to the first house—the first in this neighborhood, as there are a few for sale—my realtor is standing outside waiting for me.
“Hey, Harper.”
“Hi, Heather.”
“Are you excited?” She’s brimming with her own as she walks up the short sidewalk to the red brick house in front of us.
“Excited. Nervous. Anxious.”
