Page 4 of Like First Love, Again

Mia’s smile, broad and familiar, was the last gasp of a dying star. A celestial body burning all the helium at its core to erupt into a blinding display. It melted the first layer of Tori’s carefully constructed defenses, easy as wax, while it blazed.

“It’s me,” Tori replied, without adding that she’d recognize Mia anywhere. Instead of admitting that she’d never forgotten Mia. Not even when she tried.

Two

The worst year of Mia’s life faded into a distant memory as soon as Tori materialized. The grief she’d been carrying for eleven months released her from its chokehold. At least for the moment.

Last time she’d seen her, Tori had been a gangly teenager. The woman standing in front of her was no awkward kid. Glossy and gorgeous, Tori had obviously taken up yoga or running or both. Hair in perfect beach waves falling at her jaw, Tori looked like she’d just left the salon. Big, dark eyes painted with nothing but eyeliner and mascara reminded Mia of a sultry Victoria Justice. Tori hadn’t just grown up over the last fifteen years. She’d transformed.

Mia was so taken aback by Tori’s polished facade, it took her a beat to notice that Tori hadn’t immediately come in for a customary Miami kiss on the cheek. After living in Philly so long, she’d lost the Pavlovian instinct to kiss everyone she made eye contact with.

Actually, Tori hadn’t given her so much as a smile. If Tori wasn’t flashing her trademark dimples at her, Mia doubted shewanted a hug. She blamed it on the surprise and tried not to take it personally.

“What are you doing here?” Tori asked, body unmoving.

Tori’s tone was so professionally pleasant. So mild and objectively friendly. It shouldn’t have felt like icy fingers curling around Mia’s heart.

Staring at the person so different from the girl she’d known once, Mia wondered whether it had been a mistake to come. She just hadn’t known where else to go. Who else to run to when everything was crumbling. But after everything she’d lost, what more was a little dignity?

“Can I get you some coffee?” A woman appeared out of nowhere, breaking the indefinable energy building between her and Tori. “I’m Larissa, by the way.” Her smile was dazzling, but Mia couldn’t take her attention off of Tori for more than a hurried heartbeat. “Maybe you all want to sit in the conference room? Catch up?”

Mia’s empty stomach churned, doubting Tori would say yes, before she registered thecatch up. Had Tori mentioned her to Larissa? The prospect that Tori hadn’t forgotten her forced a new rush of hope to spring from the splinters in her grief. Stubborn weeds pushing up through cracked pavement.

“That’d be great.” Mia’s attention darted between a gleeful Larissa and stoic Tori. “If you have time?”

“Oh, yeah. She’s got at least half an hour,” Larissa replied without looking at Tori.

Larissa’s hand resting lightly on her upper back guided Mia to a large conference room with a rustic wooden table and metal chairs. Mia stopped holding her breath when Tori sat across from her.

“We practically have a Starbucks in our kitchen. I can make you anything. Even an espresso martini. What’ll you have?”Larissa asked, leaning into the conference room, legs primed to take off as soon as Mia made her request.

“I’m good, thank you.” Mia smiled, grateful that Larissa had gotten them out of the lobby and given her time with Tori. “You acquired a taste for coffee?” she asked Tori.

“You didn’t used to like coffee?” Larissa furrowed her brow at Tori like she’d sprouted an extra head before turning to Mia again. “She’s seventy percent Arabica now,” she joked. “Wonder what else has changed since high school,” she mused before disappearing.

Alone with Tori, Mia felt the sudden and nearly irrepressible urge to babble. The Tori she’d known had always been warm. Not so remote. If she said the right combination of words, she could get her old bestie back. She opened her mouth, ready to pull out a shred of nostalgia to remind Tori how close they’d been, when Tori spoke first.

“I’m not trying to be rude or anything, but what are you doing here, Mia?” Tori entwined her fingers, resting her hands on the table like the most unimpressed vice principal.

Mouth dry, Mia regretted not having asked Larissa for water. “My mom died,” she blurted because it was true and her nerves had replicated like a virus and hijacked her mouth. “And I got divorced four months ago. And my mom left me her house, and I don’t know what to do because I have to sell it, but…”

Tori’s veneer shattered. She unlaced her fingers like she was going to reach out for Mia before dropping her hands into her lap instead. “God, Mia. I’m so sorry.” Her eyes glistened with emotion as if immediately deducing that the loss made Mia an orphan. “What happened?”

Mia didn’t want to relive the last few months. “She had a heart attack.” She swallowed, but the lump in her throat wouldn’t budge. “She was so healthy. Walked two miles every day. Avoided red meat. Went to the doctor every year.” Miashook her head when a wave of pain crested in her chest. “She was at work at the bank when it happened. They rushed her to the hospital, but...” She shook her head. “My mom didn’t make it out of the ICU.” Her chest throbbed when her heart was thrown back to the darkest moment in a sea of loss. Death had been so much quieter than she’d expected. No beeping machines. No chaos. Just clutching her mother’s hand and the empty chill of being left without family.

Wiping away a tear, Tori stood and rounded the table like she’d considered hurdling over it. Mia choked out a little sob before Tori was pulling her out of her chair and wrapping her arms around her.

Inhaling the familiar scent of Tori’s skin with unfettered greed, Mia nuzzled against her neck. Grabbing fistfuls of Tori’s silky top, she released nearly a year’s worth of sadness through the gouges in her heart.

“I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what you’re going through.” Tori squeezed her tighter. Held her closer like she was trying to crush the grief out of her body. To consume it herself. Mia was back to all the times they’d slept clinging to each other.

Tori was fresh air and sunrise and home. A safety and peace she hadn’t felt in years seeped into Mia’s bones and uncoiled her muscles. She’d felt alone for so long. Adrift.

Pathetic as it was, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d hugged anyone with her entire body. The last time she’d let herself unravel. Eric had tried to be there so many times, but she couldn’t make herself let him.

“I’m sorry,” Mia gasped.

Sorry for embarrassing herself and blubbering all over Tori’s nice clothes. Sorry that she’d shown up back in her life just to act like this. But she couldn’t bring herself to let Tori go. Couldn’t give up the warmth of her touch and the steadiness of her arms tethering her to the ground.

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