Danika knew young love.
Chat continued apologizing as Danika studied the room, the flawless space and world she’d created. He scooted closer as he talked, and as she glanced to him and down to her lap—her jeans, her white tank top—she couldn’t help but wonder: Did he still think she was beautiful? She felt suddenly aware of the space on the couch between them.
She just missed Trey so fiercely—missed beingyoungso fiercely. All that freedom and possibility. She didn’t let herself recognize the irony of how when she was young, all she’d really wanted was to be settled.
But you never got to mourn the previous versions of yourself—they simply disappeared. You never knew the last time a stranger would hit on you, the last time you’d kiss someone who was not your husband, the last day you were not a mom. It made Danika sick how quickly you could slip into a brand-new life, a brand-new self, even one you’d been chasing. It was like that poem she’d once read that said, “There is an age when you are most yourself.” She’d always liked that idea—though the problem was, you’d never know at what age you were most yourself until it had passed.
Why was everything only clear at the end?
“Danika?” Chat said as she blinked.
She smoothed her hair with two hands as if coming up for air. “I don’t know what to say, Chat. I don’t know what to do. I don’t trust that girl... and now... Can I trust you?”
Chat placed his hand between them, his palm up. “Danika. I promise. You can.”
Chat opened his hand wider, and a second later, she slipped hersinto his. He grabbed it so fast, it was as if his palm were a flytrap. He pulsed her hand before letting it go. “It won’t happen again. We only have three weeks left together, and I really don’t want to ruin it.”
Danika didn’t know how to feel. She didn’t want to lose him, either—not to that girl, not to the end of summer.
“Well, four weeks,” she corrected, “if you count Hilton Head. I already got your ticket.” She smiled then; the ticket, after all, was a gift. Even if they hadn’t talked details, Chat had said from the get-go he’d love to come—that he couldn’t wait to see the ocean. Someplace new.
“Oh, yeah, right. Okay, I just, I wasn’t sure about Hilton Head, with the timing. My Europe flight and all, but maybe. Maybe I can still make it work,” he said, backtracking.
Danika’s stomach churned. She immediately sensed he was staying behind for her. To spend more time with Augie.
Danika looked toward the windows, feeling disappointed—and even more, feelingembarrassedabout feeling disappointed. Rejected.Whywas she so desperate for his attention and approval? What did that say about her, how lonely she was?
Danika suddenly stood up, walked toward the windows, and crossed her arms tight. She stared out at the other empty houses, her back to Chat. Her breath caught in her throat. But a beat later, as practiced, she flipped her hurt to rage.
“Okay, well, Chat”—her voice went cold as she turned to face him—“let’s focus on these last few weeks then, please? I know the boys will be sad when you’re gone. So it’d be great if they—if we—could have your undivided attention. And I would appreciate it if there were no more uninvited guests inside my home.”
Chat sucked in a breath, his face pale. “Yes, of course, Danika. I’m really—”
“No, Chat,” she cut him off. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I should know better by now. I should know the only person I can count on is myself.”
Chat closed his eyes.
“Though there is one thing I can’t do alone: I can’t move that dresser upstairs. So, let’s go, please.” Her voice shifted abruptly to fake and cheery; it felt manic. “Chop, chop. I’m meeting someone tonight, and I need to get the hell out of here by four.”
She walked past him up the stairs.
Danika was glad she’d told Joshua Mike to meet her at the dive bar out in Mankato. Now more than ever, she needed a drink—and to get away.
The Drunken Moose was an hour south, known for its talking moose head and strong rail cocktails. She hadn’t been in years, not since she and Bill went ironically, one night after they’d moved to Minnesota from Chicago. Danika felt another sense of longing as she sat on a cracked red barstool, neon signs flickering in the dark above her. She ordered a double vodka.
Joshua Mike arrived a few minutes after. He went in for a hug, but Danika recoiled.
“Fine, fine, fine.” He pulled at the knot of his tie. His tan looked ashy in the low light. “I only thought since you invited me, I’d try my luck. But I get this isn’t a date.”
Danika looked beyond him, watching men in flannel shirts laugh and shoot pool. Joshua Mike was out of place in his suit.Just get this over with, she told herself.
“I always knew you had a dive bar side to you.” Joshua ordered a whiskey, dropping a twenty on the bar. “Or you really don’t want anyone to see us?”
“Thanks for meeting me.”
He pulled out a stool, sat, and took off his suit jacket, draping it over one knee. “Okay. I think I know where this is going, but hit me with it. Jackie likes to talk, huh?”
“Josh.” Danika turned toward him, her legs opening as she swiveled on the stool; she didn’t stop them. At this point, who cared? She would use whatever power she had left. She was too far gone. “What in God’s name is going on?”
