Her jaw drops and stays there for what feels like a minute. She turns from the phone and goes full banshee on her poor husband. “Kelly!”
Kellen pops his head through the doorway behind her like a prairie dog in the distance. She spews a line of questioning to find out how much he knew, but it appears he didn’t know anything.
Keisha is my family, my friend of almost twenty years. She wouldn’t have sent me out here if she’d had the faintest idea I would get hurt. This mess has me placing blame on everyone and their mothers. It also has me missing the person who could relate better than anyone.
As if I spoke him into existence, I glance through the windows and recognize the approaching man in a heartbeat. Liem walks into the café with his suitcases, the picture of nonchalance, staring up at the menu while he orders. He either found me and is playing coy or he’s being my twin again. Either way, my desire to cry fades at the sight of him.
“Babe, I have to call you back,” I say.
“Okay. I am so sorry. I’ll get to the bottom of this.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m over it,” I say—and probably mean it. “I’ll call you in a bit. Love you.”
“Love you!”
I rest my chin on my palm, waiting for Liem to turn around and see me. When he does, his pretty eyes widen with surprise.
Four
Liem
Bri?
Itisher. Sitting alone at a table, staring right at me. I swear she’s like the car you just stole inGrand Theft Auto. I see her everywhere I go, again and again, there for me in case I crash and burn.
“Liem!” the worker calls out. My order is ready, and it isn’t to go.
Shit.There’s no leaving now. I glance at Bri again, and she waves me over.
Timidly, I go to her. There is no chance to explain myself before her teasing begins. “You’re following me.”
“I’d say no, but it’s not looking good for me right now.”
I linger awkwardly, unsure of what to do next. She must read it on my face because she moves the chair next to her with a foot andsays, “Sit.”
I comply like a trained puppy, never breaking eye contact while hoping for her approval. “I promise I didn’t know you were here.”
“Let me guess. You needed coffee and saw the sign for the croissants?”
“How did you—?” I end my stupid sentence when I realize I’m holding one and she has the remnants of another on the plate beside her.
She leans her chin onto a fist and grins. “They’re mid, by the way.”
“Damn. Really?” Remaining hopeful, I dip the croissant into the mug of melted chocolate. The first bite gives me dense pastry and the overpowering taste of oil. “Shit, you’re right.”
“I always am.” After a sip of her coffee, she asks, “On your way to the airport?”
“Coming back, actually.”
“Oh no. What happened?”
“Whatdidn’thappen?” Every complaint people have about LaGuardia is true. It took me an hour to get to the airport, then drama happened in the security line that made it pause for twenty minutes. I stressed about missing the flight I didn’t technically have a seat on, only to find out the flight was delayed by an hour. Then two.
Foolishly, I stayed at the gate, anxiously waiting to hear if I would make it on, even though I was eighth on the standby list, hoping a slew of people would decide they didn’t need to get back in time to go to work Monday morning.
No one did. I got my crotch frisked for nothing.
“The next available flight is seven hours from now. I figured I’d come back to the city and find something to do in the meantime.”
