I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye and saw that Darius was off his phone and facing me, arms across his broad chest. I couldn’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses, but everything about his stance indicated he was not happy. I felt as though I was a teenager again, doing something I shouldn’t. But I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I hadn’t done anything wrong, and I was tired of being shut out. I wanted out of here. I wanted to go back to Chicago, where I was Catherine Kelly, where I’d made a new life for myself.
“So I just wanted to apologize for everything, Cat. I know it wasn’t right,” Jeremy continued. “My mother is sorry too. Hey, I have to head back to the city, but it was good catching up with you.” He rose.
“Wait.”
He paused, looking down at me, and I heard myself say, “I know this is asking a lot, but since you’re heading back to the city, do you think you could drop me at SFO?”
“Now?” His brow wrinkled.
“Yeah. Um…” I had to think fast. This wasn’t something I’d planned, but as soon as I said it, I couldn’t wait to leave. “I’m booked on a flight tonight, but I thought if you drove me, we’d have more time to talk, to catch up. I was going to take a cab, but…”
“Sure. No problem, but what about your luggage?”
“I…have it right here.” I gestured to my purse, computer, and camera bags. Those were all I cared about anyway. I could leave the rest.
“In that case, let’s go.”
I hefted my bags onto my shoulder and followed Jeremy to a blue Prius parked in front of the coffee shop. I was in and Jeremy had the car started before Darius made it across the street. I watched in the side mirror as he pulled his phone out of his jacket and angrily punched the screen with a finger. Then I leaned back, rested my head on the seat, and smiled. It had been easier than I thought to ditch him.
“So what did you want to talk about?” Jeremy asked.
Shit. It was a 90-minute drive to San Francisco. I didn’t want to talk about the accident, and I didn’t want to talk about William Lambourne. I needed to keep it light.
“You know what I was thinking about?” I said, forcing a smile. “You mentioned Stanford. Remember the first time I met you?”
“When you and Jace came up for the Stanford-Cal game?”
“Yeah. Jace and I had only been together for a few weeks,” I said as we passed the last of St. Helena’s buildings. It was a small town, quickly left behind, and then we were on our way to San Francisco. I’d really done it. I’d really just left William. I thought I’d feel relieved, but instead I felt incredibly sad.
“I remember thinking he had it bad. Every time he looked at you, he got this look in his eyes.”
“Really?” I’d heard this story so many times and I knew Jeremy had too, but we were both looking for things to talk about to fill the time and Jace was our common denominator.
I didn’t remember any look, but Jace and I had started dating my freshman year at UC Santa Cruz. He was a sophomore and, with his blond hair and big smile, he was irresistible.
“You weren’t his usual type at all. You were this sweet, beautiful hippie girl. Really mellow.”
“Sweet? Hardly. Remember the parties after the game?”
He laughed. “Well, you did match my frat brothers shot for shot of tequila.”
“See? Not so sweet. I think I passed out in your dorm room. You were lucky I didn’t puke.” We both laughed at that.
I stared out the window at the rolling fields and hills of Napa, but in my mind I saw Jace and all the fun we’d had together that year. Jeremy and I reminisced about a few other parties and friends we’d both lost touch with, and then the conversation turned to when Jace dropped out of college at the end of his junior year.
“My parents were so pissed,” Jeremy said. “I don’t think they’ve ever gotten over it. But hey, not every surfer is offered a spot on the ASP World Tour. What was he supposed to do, say no?”
“It was his dream,” I agreed. Jeremy had always supported Jace. I remembered that now. He’d been Jace’s biggest advocate with his parents, and I had to give him credit for that. He’d been a good brother.
“And my dad never said it, but I know he was proud of him. For standing up to them, for doing what he wanted.”
I nodded. “I think Jace knew that too.” Neither of us mentioned Mrs. Ryder. Both of Jace’s parents were pieces of work. Mr. Ryder had been, and still was, a successful corporate lawyer. The kind of guy who went after the jugular. She was icy cool. She’d been born into the upper echelons of San Francisco society and never let anyone forget it. She sat on charity boards and hosted events, and beneath her gracious demeanor, she was a complete and total bitch. When Jace dropped out, she threw a fit. No son of hers was going to be a college drop-out. She had plans for her eldest, and they didn’t include the pro-surfing circuit or a hippy, artsy girlfriend.