Mom:
I expect you to run your father’s credit card so many times it melts. Do something that scares you. But please don’t get arrested. And if you do, call me and not your father.
I sent a heart in response and pocketed my phone. I would never understand how someone full of so much whimsical hope had decided a person like my father was worth spending her life with.
Vera rolled down her window again as we began to fly down a slight hill and farther into the desert. The wind blew a few more curls loose and gave me a couple seconds of relief from the smell of her. A scent I couldn’t forget if I tried.
Mom wanted me to do something that scared me. Vera Stein scared me plenty.
Chapter Twenty
Marlon woke me up in the morning, ready for breakfast and a bathroom break. I had to pee and brush my teeth and do normal human things, but first: dog duty.
I stumbled out of my room and past the kitchen and the living room. The refrigerator door was open and I could hear Eli on the phone, laughing. Nothing in the world could possibly be funny to me before I’d had a chance to brush my teeth.
Marlon spun in circles outside, searching for the perfect spot to do his business, and when he was done, I opened the front door quietly and attempted to sneak past Eli. But he was off the phone and waiting for me, leaning against the counter with a cup of espresso.
And he wasn’t wearing a shirt. The planes of his chest were tanned and the dusting of hair visible.
“Good morning,” he said, his voice low and still a little sleepy.
“Thanks for steering me to my bedroom last night,” I said. “You have a very good couch, though.”
“You would know,” he said. “You are a connoisseur of couches. Espresso? I have a coffee maker too.”
I nodded. “Regular coffee would be good.”
I sat down at the little breakfast table in the kitchen as he pulled out a fresh filter. “I’ve got a churro-flavored creamer in the fridge.”
“Mr. Fancy Espresso Machine has flavored creamer?”
“I have nothing against creamer, but for the record, it’s not mine.”
It was like he wasbeggingme to ask. He wanted me to know he was with someone. And now he was just rubbing it in, but I didn’t plan on giving him the satisfaction of my curiosity.
He threw back the rest of his espresso and sat down at the table across from me as we waited for the coffee.
I might not have been interested in asking him about the mystery person in his life, but there was one question that had been gnawing at me.
“Eli,” I said, “how did you end up here?”
“I’m guessing you don’t mean here in this kitchen.”
“You were going to be an interventional cardiologist, right? This feels way less high stakes than that.”
He nodded, tracing a small circle on the table and concentrating carefully on it. “I changed course after the first year of medical school.”
“Your whole family is full of cardiologists, I thought.”
“Except for my cousin, Stacy. She’s a podiatrist. A real rebel.”
I snorted softly. “And then came you.”
“Yeah, my dad wasn’t really thrilled by the thought of geriatric and palliative care.”
It was so far off from what I knew about him all those years ago. It struck me as the type of medicine that required patience, something I never considered Eli to have in abundance.
The drip on the coffeepot stopped and Eli stood to pour me a cup. I accepted the creamer, because regardless of who it belonged to, it did sound good.
