Good man, that one.
I manage to wait twenty seconds before I pull my phone out of my jacket pocket.
My breath stalls at the sight of bright red on the screen. Her hair blowing in the wind, in the sunshine, on some beach out West.
Well done, Sweetheart.
I sniff, and should probably look around to make sure no one nearby heard it. But I don’t care and I don’t know if I am even capable of looking up at this point. I don’t want to glance away from her bright smile, those brilliant eyes.
Nine days it’s been since I’ve seen her. Nine. An eternity. And I’ve no idea how much longer this will take, for her to make some decisions about herself, for herself.
I don’t really care though.
However long it takes, I’ll wait.
CHAPTER 39
Harper
“So, what do you think, are you going to stay?” Janie asks me as we near our Airbnb. I look up and down the beach, glowing orange in the dusk light. Two big palm trees sway right by the steps up to the little hut and seagulls fly overhead.
“Still not sure,” I admit.
“Well, you’ve got a night to think on it, I guess.” She says. She’s leaving tomorrow while the Clark jet is in Southern California for some other reason. She’ll catch a ride back east and meet up with Benedict before they head on a business trip to Argentina.
“I do love it,” I sigh as we climb the steps.
“You could have a little one bedroom place just like this, right on the water,” she says.
I scoff, “I’m sure the rent would eat my dinner each month.”
“Lunch, eat your lunch,” she says, “And you could get a job at a nearby bakery or restaurant.”
“Hm,” I say. We’ve spent much of our trip planning the trip itself, plotting routes and then seeing every single famous California thing we could. I’ve been praying and journaling. Havinga best friend who enjoys the silence is helpful for self-reflection. This is the first we’ve talked about real life out loud, though. I guess it’s time for me to start making some decisions.
Janie turns to me after we enter the condo and get the door shut, “You’ve always loved cooking, since we were little. But cooking doesn’t mean owning and running a failing shop in a dying town.”
“Not dying anymore,” I correct her.
“Thanks to—”
“Don’t,” I say.
Janie walks to me and puts a hand on my arm, “Still? It’s been almost two weeks,” she says, as if I need the reminder.
Every man in a button up shirt reminds me of him. Every time I feel a pang of anxiety when I think of home, of Dad, I wish Aiden were still next door, looking after everyone like he does. I miss his morning check ins, though I don’t miss the register. Or being so tired I could hardly stand. But his questions, his advice. His texts, his excuses to stop by and see me.
As we’ve traveled, I wondered if he’d been to the spots we hit, what he thought of them. I wonder where he is right now and what he’s doing, who he’s negotiating with and over what. Is he doing his normal evening workout? Having dinner? With who? With women?
“Harp?” Janie breaks into my thoughts. “Maybe the fact that you still can’t talk about it means we reallyshouldtalk about it, hm? C’mon, I’m leaving tomorrow.”
I deadpan back to her, “Talking, your favorite.”
“Hey now, don’t use that old excuse on me. We read in blissful silence earlier for four hours. I’m ready,” she makes a point of stretching. “Let’s do this.”
I laugh as I cross from the doorway to the kitchen and grab us water bottles. She sits on the sofa right off the kitchen, sincethis is a studio condo. I wanted the real experience of living here rather than the hotel suite her husband could’ve gotten us. I hand her one of the waters and ask, “What’s there to say? It’s textbook Harper. He came, he courted, I swooned, he left. Rinse and freaking repeat.”
“Yes, but idiot one snuck out with his golf clubs in the middle of the night and idiot two left you with a giant dog. Aiden told me, when he was looking very sad, by the way, youtoldhim to go.”
