“So I shouldn't wear it on my first day of school in Calgary?”
My half-inebriated brain concocts an image of Jordy strutting into her small rural school—her brother told her there are fourteen kids in her grade twelve class—looking like a fabulous walking blue disco ball. A cackle spills from my mouth, making Jordy giggle. “Maybe save it for a school dance or something.”
Her gaze drifts from mine, eyes going hazy. “I’ve never been to a school dance,” she says softly. “I never had anyone to go with and I couldn’t afford the tickets anyway. Or something new to wear. But maybe…” Her eyes trail back to mine and she gives me a heartbreakingly beautiful smile that leaves a thick lump in my throat. “Maybe I can go to a dance at my new school. Maybe even prom.”
“You absolutely should. I know in the grand scheme of things it’s just a dance, but it felt like a rite of passage to me. High school isn’t easy, and prom was like a reward for all that hard work, turmoil, and drama.”
“Who’d you go with?”
“The girls.” I smile at the memory. “We pulled names out of a hat and bought each other corsages. Evie’s mom insisted on hiring a limo for us, and we had the chauffeur drive us all over town before going to the event hall. We spent most of the night on the dance floor, just like tonight.”
“Thank you for letting me come tonight,” she says suddenly. “I loved getting to be part of your friend group for the night. I’ll never forget it.”
“Consider yourself an honorary best friend now. Membership is for life and any member would do anything for another member, no matter where they may live. Remember that.”
Jordy is quiet for a minute, her head bowed as she absentmindedly smooths one finger over the tiny sheep pattern on her pajama pants. “Do I get a membership card? Or maybe a plaque of some sort?”
I laugh. “I’ll see about having one made for you. I’ll bring it to you the first time I visit you in Calgary.”
She unfolds herself from the couch and springs to her feet. “I think I’ve reached my limit of lovey, mushy stuff for one day. You good if I go to bed?”
“I’ll be fine. I’ll finish this water and have another glass, just to be safe.” I get up and stand in front of her. “Is one more hug too much mush for you?”
“Yes, but I’ll allow it since it’s your birthday.” She hugs me fiercely, holding on like her life depends on it. I cling right back, doing my best to restrain the tidal wave of emotion that threatens to overtake me. “Happy birthday, Hollie. I…I love you.”
I can’t respond right away because the words are trapped by the lump in my throat. If I let them out, I’m afraid a sob will come with them. Jordy stiffens against me, but I keep my arms locked tightly around her until I’m able to speak. “I love you too, Jordy.”
She releases me instantly and practically leaps away. “Okay, that’s enough now.Byyyyyye.” And with that, she darts down the hall and up the stairs.
I laugh to myself as I take my glass of water and head to the kitchen. As promised, Fergus left the gifts people brought on the kitchen counter. I insisted the girls tell invitees not to bring gifts, but a few people did anyway. Fergus has laid them out neatly on the counter, bless him. I check the tags on each of them and decide to open them in the morning when my mind is clearer and I can form proper thank-you messages. My fingers go still on the card of the final gift, a giant basket. It’s from Spencer.
Happy birthday, Hollie. I know you said no gifts, but I kept driving past that new British novelty store near the mall, Ye Olde British Shoppe, and I finally stopped in this morning. I couldn’t resist picking up a few things for you, but I also made a donation to Belle Vie in your name. Thank you for giving me a second chance and for your friendship over the last few weeks.
Love, Spencer xx
I trace a finger over his small, neat handwriting, lingering on the word ‘love’ and the two kisses. I’ve known enough Brits to know kisses are customary, but the ‘love’ is another matter. Am I reading too much into this or is he sending mixed messages again? He asked me to go to London with him, told me he cares about me, signed a card with ‘love’, and yet he refers to me as a friend.
This train of thought is making my head spin, so I mentally shove the thoughts aside in favor of digging into the basket. I let out a delighted laugh as I pull out the contents: Terry’s Chocolate Orange Minis, Cadbury Roses, Maltesers Truffles, Galaxy Minstrels, Hobnobs, and Jaffa Cakes. There’s a small package at the bottom that’s cool to the touch. I open it and dig past the smallest ice packs I’ve ever seen to withdraw a jar of clotted cream.
He remembered. I simultaneously want to laugh and cry at the thoughtfulness of the gift. And the irony, considering Spencer asked me to go to England with him for Christmas.
I race back to the living room and grab my phone, pulling up my text thread with Spencer.Thank you for the incredibly thoughtful gift. I hope we can see each other before you leave for the holidays. xx
When he doesn’t reply right away, I return to the kitchen to tidy up and put the clotted cream in the fridge. I putter around, doing things that don’t need to be done tonight, and checking my phone every few minutes.
When Spencer still hasn’t responded by the time I go to bed, I think maybe it’s for the best. Having Jordy live here and spending chunks of my free time with Spencer have shown me something I didn’t realize before: I’ve been lonely. It never occurred to me previously because I kept so busy between work and my friends. My life has felt fuller since Jordy has been here, even though it’s only been for a short time. When Spencer returns from England, I wouldn't want to unconsciously slot him into the empty space left by Jordy. It wouldn’t be fair to him to take on the burden of filling the void in my life.
With that thought in mind, I turn off my phone and crawl into bed.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Over the next few days, I throw myself into two things: work, and spending as much time as possible with Jordy. She’s leaving this Friday and, even though I knew it was coming, time seems to fly by extra fast.
Wednesday is her last day working at the center. Despite Jordy’s protests, I throw her a small going away party, an open house of sorts in my office where people can hang out, say their goodbyes, and have some snacks.
We’re both mostly silent on the drive home after work. I think it’s finally hitting Jordy that she’s leaving the day after tomorrow. We only have two more nights together, and tomorrow will be our last full day before she leaves for the airport mid-afternoon on Friday.
“What do you want to do for dinner?” I ask when we’re a few minutes from the house. “Go out? Order in? Make something? Whatever you want.”
