I laugh, because despite everything, it’s not like I can just decide to stop loving him; I wouldn’t ever refuse to see him. I can’t even bring myself to take off my wedding ring.
Looking down at my phone, I open the text window and reply for the first time since I left him sleeping in the apartment. I’m in San Diego, safe and sound. Of course I’d see you, but don’t come until it works for the case. You’ve worked too hard. I reread what I’ve written and then add, I’m not going anywhere.
Except back to the States while you lie sleeping, I think.
He replies immediately. Finally! Mia why did you leave without waking me? I’ve been going crazy over here.
And then another: I can’t sleep. I miss you.
I close my eyes, not realizing until now how much I needed to hear that. The sensation pulls tight in my chest, a rope wrapped around my lungs, smashing them together. My careful mind tells me to just say thank you, but instead I quickly type Me too, and toss my phone away, onto the bed before I can say more.
I miss him so much I feel like I’m tied in a corset, unable to suck enough air into my lungs.
By the time I pick it up again, it’s the next morning and I’ve missed his next three texts: I love you. And then: Please tell me I haven’t ruined this.
And then, Please Mia. Say something.
This is when I break down for the second time, because from the time stamp I know he wrote it in his office, at work. I can imagine him staring at his phone, unable to concentrate or get anything done until I replied. But I didn’t. I curled up into a ball and fell asleep, needing to shut down as if I’d unplugged.
I pick up my phone again, and even though it’s seven in the morning, Lola answers on the first ring.
ONLY A LITTLE over an hour later I throw open the door and rush into a mass of arms and wild hair.
“Quit hogging her,” a voice says over Harlow’s shoulder and I feel another set of arms.
You’d never know it hasn’t even been two months from the way I start sobbing onto Lola’s shoulder, holding on to both of them as if they might float away.
“I missed you so much,” I say. “You’re never leaving. It’ll be small but we can make it work. I was in Europe. I can totally get with this now.”
We stumble into my tiny living room, a mess of laughter and tears, and I shut the door behind us.
I turn to find Harlow watching me, sizing me up.
“What?” I ask, looking down at my yoga capris and T-shirt. I realize I don’t look red-carpet ready, but her inspection feels a little unnecessary. “Ease up, Clinton Kelly. I’ve been unpacking and then sleeping.”
“You look different,” she says.
“Different?”
“Yeah. Sexier. Married life was good for you.”
I roll my eyes. “I assume you’re referring to my little muffin top. I have a new unhealthy relationship with pain au chocolat.”
“No,” she says, moving closer to examine my face. “You look . . . softer? But in a good way. Feminine. And I like the hair a little longer.”
“And the tan,” Lola adds, dropping onto the couch. “You do look good. Your rack, too.”
I laugh, squeezing into the seat next to her. “This is what France with no job and a patisserie around the corner will get you.”
We all fall silent and after what feels like an eternity of silence, I realize I’m the one who has to address the fact that I was in France, and now I’m here.
“I feel like a horrible human being for how I left.”
Lola pins me with her glare. “You are not.”
“You might disagree when I explain.”
Harlow’s hand is already raised in the air. “No need. We know what happened, no thanks to you, you withholding asshole.”
Of course they’ve heard the entire story. More accurately, Lola heard it from Oliver who heard it from Finn who had the good luck of calling Ansel only an hour after he woke to find his wife and all her belongings gone. For a bunch of dudes, they’re awfully gossipy.
We catch each other up in the easy shorthand we’ve developed over the past nearly twenty years, and it’s so much easier to spill everything for the second time since I’ve been back.
“He fucked up,” Harlow assures me once I get to the part where we’re headed together to the party. “Everyone knows it. Apparently Finn and Oliver have been telling him to fill you in about the situation for weeks now. Perry calls him all the time, texts him constantly, and calls Finn and Oliver to talk about it nonstop. Their breakup didn’t seem to surprise anyone but her, and even that seems to be up for debate. I guess Ansel was worried it would spook you and is counting the days until he can move back here. From everything I’ve heard, he’s completely head over heels in love with you.”