Page 116 of Wild Abandon

“In the hospital, you said, ‘It’s not his fault.’ What did you mean by that?” I asked Ed before I got in my car.

Ed smiled, as if he had been waiting for me to ask the question. “That he fell in love with you. He’d have been a fool not to.”

I cried a little and hugged Ed for the last time before driving to the San Francisco Airport. I was over the Bay Bridge when I realized there was an envelope on my passenger seat. Inside was a large wad of cash, presumably my pay for working at Russet Ranch. How he had gotten it there, I had no idea.

“He was very understanding,” I answer Emma’s question.

“Have you heard from Nate?”

My body falls within itself at the mention of his name. “No.”

“That’s a shame. I was rooting for you. Hoping he’d make some dramatic gesture, like show up on your doorstep and demand you go back to Napa with him.”

I half-laugh into my hand. “You and Naomi have quite the imaginations when it comes to love. Just because Alexander chased you down, professed his love to you on a curb—”

“And a journal,” she interrupts.

“And a music journal.”

“And a song,” she adds.

Man, I wish all men were as romantic as her husband.

“See? This is the sort of thing that had me running to California six months ago. Men like Alexander don’t exist. They’re mythical. I need real.”

“Please. I only say these things to remind myself. He’s done, like, two romantic things in our marriage. Most of the time, he’s throwing dirty laundry at me and leaving his cereal boxes on the counter.”

“I heard that,” Alexander says, walking into the kitchen. “She lies. I write her love letters every week.” He winks at me, and I almost melt. Almost.

Emma hits him in the chest and sends him away. “You’re not helping my case.” She gives her attention back to me. “I was never much of a dreamer until it happened to me. Now, I always find hope.”

“Nate and I are through. I won’t lie and say I haven’t daydreamed about him coming here, but the truth is, he has a wife, and she is very much alive. He has commitments and a life in California that do not, cannot, and will never include me.” I put the cup down and reprimand my friend, “Now, don’t you have somewhere to be? Go, shoo, get out of here.” I make a shoving motion with my hands, forcing Emma to move about the kitchen.

Emma refuses to have a nanny or help of any kind, so when she and Alexander called to say they needed someone to watch Isla for a quick hour while they went to a business meeting, I happily said yes. Who wouldn’t want to spend a morning with a beautiful infant?

“Do I have to leave her?” Emma pouts.

Alexander hands Emma her coat. “We’ll be quick. Isla is sleeping in her crib. She won’t even know we’re gone.”

Emma takes a deep breath. “Okay, okay,” she says. Then, she eyes me. “There’s milk in the fridge. Just heat it up in the warmer. You know how to do that, right?”

“Yes, you showed me as soon as I walked through the door—along with the first aid kit, the burp cloths, diapers, wipes, fire extinguisher, and list of medical support staff, should anything happen,” I say. Then, I add with a smile, “But, of course, I’ll call you first.”

Emma rolls her eyes at me.

Alexander has his hand on her lower back. “Our cell phones are on.”

“Go!” I virtually push her out the door.

Alexander thanks me and then whispers, “Take care of my little girl.”

Ha! I knew he was worried, too.

I take the baby monitor and walk to the living room. Their apartment is really nice. The top floor of a brownstone. Pre-war building with all modern conveniences. It’s a spacious layout, and the furnishings are homey, not ostentatious or uncomfortable. It’s exactly the type of place I’d picture for Emma and Alexander.

I always thought I’d end up in a place like this someday. And then I went to Russet Ranch. I felt at home there. Walking through the vineyards, I could imagine myself building a small home on the land, playing my cello at night on the back porch overlooking the roses. I can’t describe how I felt when I was there, other than to say I just belonged.

“Wah-wah,” Isla’s cries pour through the infant monitor.