I wrinkled my nose. “I didn’t throw up on my phone. Ipuked in the trash. And my phone fell in it. That was the last time I had limoncello.” I tapped my wineglass. “Or shots, for that matter.”
Natalie rolled her eyes. “The order of operations was suspect, sis.”
“Glad to see your sense of humor is still intact,” Caleb said. “As my world comes crumbling down around me.” He paused. “Though she’s done worse, so.”
“I’m sorry you have a shitty mom,” Natalie said.
He sighed. “Me, too.”
The women at the table next to us swiveled toward me again. I resolutely kept my face away from them.
“It’s all right,” he continued. “Well, it’s not, but I guess it has to be.” He blew out a breath. “Should make my next visit home pretty stellar.”
“When are you going?” Natalie asked.
“I go the last two weeks of August every year.”
“I usually go the first two, but I had to cancel because of work this year.” My wedding-reserved PTO hours had returned to my time-off bank last week, but according to Tate Dimmock, leaving now wasinopportune.
“You could do a weekend.” Natalie kicked me under the table. “What about your aunt’s place?”
“Josie’s?”
“Yeah. Wasn’t she texting you that her Airbnb canceled on her?”
I gave her a slow nod. “Yes...”
“No shit,” Caleb said. “The cottage by the beach lot? She still has that?”
“It’s exactly the same as when we were kids,” I said.
“She’d definitely let us use it.” Natalie clapped her hands.
“Wait. I’m not sure I can get away—”
“Fair enough, Diane Sawyer, but you could check,” Natalie said. “You aren’t a weekend segment.”
“True...”
“C’mon. My Alaska trip fell through. Let me plan something.”
“Alaska? Oh.” I crinkled my nose. “Danny.”
“Danny,” Natalie confirmed.
“Danny,” Caleb agreed. I rolled my eyes.
“Settled!” Natalie declared. “We’ll scoot down after your segment Friday and come back Sunday night.”
“There’s no such thing as ‘scooting’ to the Cape on a Friday,” Caleb said. “You’d probably be able to walk there faster.”
We settled into safer topics: commutes, traffic, travel. I hardly dared to believe this was my life, the merging of past and present, small doses of hope for what might be my future.
Eighteen
A few days later, Soulmail turned one month old, and brought with it a surprise.
Precisely one month to the moment, that witchy 3:00 a.m. hour, those who had reached the age of majority since the first round opened their emails to find their golden ticket. Natalie’s cousin Aili, whose following had quintupled in the last month, opened hers live on TikTok. She covered her mouth and burst into tears, then cut the video.omg you guys, she captioned it. The comments raged, begging for a part two, wondering if the tears were happy or sad.
