Days of You and Me (24 page)

“With Shane the dry cleaner?” I heard the bitter in my voice, and I hated it.

“Yep. With Shane or Tom or Charlie or whoever the hell else she wants. She deserves to enjoy the rest of her life.”

I’d sat in silence the rest of the way back over the bridge to New Jersey, not speaking until we were near Eatonboro.

“Dawn left me a message yesterday. I listened to it on the train. She has an idea about what I could do next—workwise, anyway. But it means moving to California, at least for a while.”

“California, huh?” She didn’t speak for a minute. “I don’t know any details, doll, but I think you should do it. Or at least give it serious thought.”

And I had. I’d listened to Dawn’s suggestion, and I’d talked to my mom, to Zelda and to Gia. By the following week, I’d made the decision and begun the slow process of pulling myself back to life.

Now I’d been here in northern California for all of three days, and I was miserable. Oh, I hadn’t lied to Leo about the apartment; it was beautiful, with the most expensive-looking furniture I’d ever seen, art adorning the walls and gleaming wood everywhere. The location was perfect, too, just a short walk from the Presidio Forest and with a view of the Golden Gate Bridge.

But it wasn’t home. I missed my mother, my house and my neighborhood. I missed knowing that when I drove down the street, I’d likely see familiar faces. I missed our grocery stores, my old high school . . . I missed Zelda and Gia being a short drive away. And I really, really missed Leo, which was absolutely crazy, considering we hadn’t lived within six hours of each other for years. Not since that summer when we’d had our brief and wonderful few months of living together had we even seen one another with any kind of regularity. But still, I felt his loss keenly.

I missed Nate, too. It was horrible to think it, let alone say it out loud, but I missed him more than I had thought I would. There’d been a part of me that had expected more relief than grief, but the truth was, even above and beyond our lifelong friendship, I missed the relationship we’d built over the six months of our marriage. It had been sweet and poignant, and it had died when Nate had. There were still mornings when I opened my eyes, and my first thought was to turn my head to look at his profile, to check on his sleeping form in the hospital bed.

My phone chimed, and at the noise, my heart stuttered a little.
Probably Mom
, I scolded myself. I’d texted her earlier this morning, and she might be replying. I forced myself not to reach for the phone for a solid two minutes, breathing in and out, staring at the finial on the end of the curtain rod.

When I gave in and retrieved it, Leo’s name was on the screen.

Leo:
I was just thinking about you. My mom told me you’d left, so I was waiting to hear about your safe arrival. Glad everything looks good so far.

It was measured and banal, just as mine to him had been. Impersonal. And maybe that was a sign of what we were going to be from now on: distant former friends, the kind of people who met up at parties or holidays, hugged each other and exclaimed over how
long
it had been, promised to be better about keeping in touch and then didn’t think about the other person until the next time we met by accident.

Even as that depressing thought drifted over my mind, a second message came through.

Leo:
Please send me pictures. I want to be able to imagine where you are. And text me whenever and lots. Like, obnoxious amounts. You could call, too, if you wanted.

Warmth spread through me, easing a little of the homesick blues. Leo wasn’t brushing me off. We weren’t going to turn into polite strangers.

But still, I wasn’t ready to risk a phone call yet. If I heard his voice, I just might give up and go running home. And as much as I was struggling right now, deep down I still knew that what I was doing was necessary.

Quinn:
I’ll send you some pictures, I promise. Not sure I should try a phone call yet . . . but maybe when I feel a little steadier here.

Leo:
You got this. You’re the bravest person I know. I miss you, Mia, but I know this is right for you.

Quinn:
That makes one of us. Anyway, thanks. Everything okay with you?

Leo:
Yeah, fine. Spring conditioning starts in six weeks, so I’ve been mostly volunteering at the youth program and lifting with some of the guys. We had two inches of snow here the other day. The city came to a grinding halt. They don’t know what to do with the white stuff.

Quinn:
LOL I can just see it. It’s cold here, but a weird kind of cold. Damp all the time, like being in a tunnel or something underground. And down by the water, it’s frigid. No snow, though. Allan and Kara (his wife) go skiing in Tahoe, but not sure if I’ll get a chance to check that out.

Leo:
You should try it. This is a great time for you to do stuff you never have before.

Quinn:
I guess. Allan and I are starting to work on the book tomorrow. I’m glad, because I don’t know what to do with myself right now. I feel like I just transported my sorry self, with all the crap I can’t shake, to a different coast. Mostly I’ve been holed up here watching old movies and reading. I’ve made myself take at least one walk a day, though.

Leo:
Go explore your new neighborhood. Take pictures to send me, if that will force you out.

Quinn:
Are you going to reciprocate? Send me some photos of Richmond in the snow?

Leo:
Of course. I’m never shy about selfies. Hold on.

A few moments later, Leo was there, grinning at me out of the phone. Behind him, I could see patches of snow on a deck.

Seeing his face made me want to cry. He looked so familiar and just so . . . Leo. His hair was a little longer than usual; I’d noticed that at the engagement party, but I hadn’t risked commenting on it. It was too personal and might have led to touching.

His blue-grey eyes were bright. They seemed to be looking right at me, making me want to see them go smoky with desire, as they always did when we were together.

I wanted to tell him all of that, because we never held back anything from each other. But that too was risky, and so I stuck to something safer.

Quinn:
The city shut down over THAT little snow? And is that your backyard? It’s huge.

Leo:
Yeah, that’s what all the girls say, you know. Everyone loves the size of my . . . deck.

The smile that spread over my face was one of those I couldn’t fight. It made me feel lighter and a little giddy, that Leo was making suggestive jokes to me. I wasn’t sure what it meant—that he felt safe to tease, since I was over three thousand miles away?—but I decided not to overthink anything.

Quinn:
I walked right into that one, didn’t I?

Leo:
You sure did. Now I showed you mine . . . show me yours.

I wasn’t going to send him a selfie, not when I was sitting here in yoga pants and an oversized hoodie, with my hair a mess and not one bit of makeup on my face. He’d seen me worse, for sure, but I didn’t need to capture this image for posterity. I stood up and made my way around the sofa across to the dining room with its massive picture window, and holding my phone at just the right angle, so that there wasn’t any glare from the glass, I snapped a photo of the view, with the top of the Golden Gate showing. I edited it a bit, framing it and adding a filter, and then added it to my text and hit send.

Leo:
That is a freaking amazing view. You weren’t lying. But it was missing one thing. One very important thing. YOU.

I was smiling big again as I typed.

Quinn:
Sorry. Remember, we’re three hours behind you. I’m still in my pj’s and I look like a train wreck. I’ll send one when I feel like I won’t scare you to death.

Leo:
Baby, I’ve seen you at your worst, and I’ve seen you at your best. You know it doesn’t make any difference to me how you look. But as long as you promise to send one soon—maybe one of you on a cable car—I guess I’ll learn patience.

I was considering my response when another text came through.

Leo:
Just got in the car, on my way to the volunteer center. Can’t be late for the kids. Text me later, okay? Miss you.

Biting my lip, I sighed. It was hard to think about Leo’s life going on there without me. Even if I’d had the illusion of his attention for a few minutes, I wondered how often I really crossed his mind.

Quinn:
Have fun and be safe driving in ALL THAT SNOW. ;) Miss you, too. Talk later.

“He’s gonna go for the pass here. Trust me, I know this.”

Tate Durham ran one hand through his short hair, damp with sweat. “I don’t know, man. Why wouldn’t he just run with it? Makes more sense.” He was hunched over, his head near mine in the huddle. “And why should I trust you? You don’t play defense.”

“Neither do you, doofus. But I know because he’s my brother, and he thinks he can exploit our weakness, which is defending the pass play.”

“
Doofus
? What are we, nine?” Tate jabbed me in the arm.

I grimaced. “Sorry. Hanging out with Danny tends to bring out my inner little brother. Would you be more comfortable with me calling you asshole?”

“Nah. I kind of like the doofus bit. You know me and my retro slang.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“Hey, are you two finished making out over there? Can we get back to playing this game, or do you need to cuddle for a few more minutes?” Danny stood a couple of yards away, hands on his hips.

“Shut up.” I straightened. “We were figuring out what we were going to order for dinner tonight when you pussies buy us our meals. You know . . . after you lose.”

“Yeah, keep talking big, little brother. Let’s do this.”

We lined up on either side of the ball. Danny was in the front with his hand on the football, while Corey danced behind him. I wasn’t sure if his fancy footwork was designed to fake me out or to help him keep warm. We’d had a brief tease of spring, when the temperatures had gone up, but today it was pretty fucking cold. I could see my breath as I panted, waiting for Danny to hike the ball. Tate was directly in front of him, doing his best intimidation imitation, but since my old college buddy was just about as threatening as a baby kitten, I was surprised my brother wasn’t cracking up.

“Hut, hut, HUT!”

Danny snapped the ball into Corey’s waiting hands, and then as I’d predicted, he took off down the field, deftly sidestepping Tate who lunged toward Corey. I left those two behind and gave chase to my brother, who was quickly heading to the makeshift end zone. He crossed the imaginary line we’d created between two practice cones and stutter-walked backward, his eyes fastened up field where Corey was still trying to shake free of Tate. Corey managed to get loose long enough to send a pass spiraling toward us. I made a running leap, attempting to deflect the ball before Danny could get his fingers on it.

“No fucking way, cubby!” He slammed his body into mine, knocking me clear just as the ball fell into his arms. I hit the ground hard with an
ommph.

“
Fuck
!” I pushed myself up on my elbows just in time to watch my brother execute a spin as part of his traditional touchdown dance. “You are such a douche, Danny.”

“I believe you mispronounced that word, cubby. I think what you’re trying to say is
winner
.”

Corey and Tate trotted toward us, both of them still breathing hard. “Good game, Taylor. Nice try. But clearly you’re not up to going against the mad skills your big brother and I possess.” Corey held out a fist for Danny to pound.

“I can’t wait to post everywhere about how I beat not one, but two professional football players.” Danny grinned at me as I got slowly to my feet. “Get ready for some serious jeering, bro.”

“Uh, let’s remember you did have some help.” Corey cocked his head. “And I think this goes to show that experience trumps youth every time.”

“I think it also means that youth is about to buy experience some beers.” Danny wrapped his arm around my shoulders, squeezed and then forced me down enough that he could knuckle my head.