Page 76 of Come Back To Me

“Yes, Yara Phillips. He’ll know who I am.”

“Did he knock you up?” she asks.

I try not to laugh. “No, Mrs. Alehe. I’m really just a friend.”

I eye her crucifix as I hand her the paper and then walk back down the drive and to my waiting Uber. I know she’ll call him right away, just to make sure I wasn’t carrying her illegitimate grandchild.

Forty-five minutes later my phone rings. The number says Private.

“Yara?” I recognize his deep voice right away.

“Yes,” I say. “It’s me.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m in Seattle. Can we meet somewhere…tonight maybe?”

There’s a long pause on his end. “Yeah, sure. Where?”

I tell him to meet me at the brewery by David’s house. And then I hang up. One step closer.

I meet Ferdinand at the taproom we all used to go to near David’s old place. I’m thirty minutes late by the time the Uber pulls up to the door, typical Seattle traffic. Ferdinand is outside, smoking against the wall. He has the hood of his jacket pulled up around his face and I wonder if it’s to keep people from recognizing him. Their lives have changed so much since I was last here. He has tattoos on his fingers that weren’t there before, and he’s wearing heavy silver rings on almost every finger.

“Hi,” I said. I feel so awkward I stick both of my hands in my back pockets.

“Hi,” he says back. “Want a beer?”

I nod, and he tosses his cigarette on the ground before turning around and walking into the taproom. He orders an IPA for himself and a Stella for me.

“You still like that shit?” he says, turning around to check.

I nod. We carry our beers to a table near the pretzel machine and sit down.

“So,” he says.

“Congratulations. On everything,” I say. “You guys really made it happen.”

He nods slowly, his eyes drilling into me. Ferdinand is frightening as fuck. I try to remind myself that this was the guy who had a kitten screensaver on his computer.

“Yeah, I guess I should be thanking you,” he says.

I flinch. So, it was going to be like that.

“You would have made it one way or the other. David is a talented songwriter.”

He finishes off his beer and then looks at me. “So what do you want, Yara? Why are you back, or do I even need to ask that?”

“I need to find him. I tried to e-mail him, but he changed his e-mail, I guess.”

“Yeah, after that little stunt you pulled in Paris I don’t blame him.”

My face rearranged itself. I could feel it happening.

“Or you don’t blame Petra,” I say, raising my eyebrows.

The corner of his mouth lifted in what I perceived was a smile. Wow. I made Ferdinand half smile.

“I need a smoke,” he says.

---