Page 69 of Here & There

You know, the one we saved up for together, for a year, back when we first started dating? Or at least, I saved up for it.

My company was still struggling, but he convinced me that going to Bali would be the break I needed, so I pinched every penny. I ate ramen for lunch every day, even thoughI’m a grown damn woman. I didn’t go out with friends (even when he did) and got movies from the library instead.

Do you remember that?

Then the week before we were supposed to leave, I asked him about our seats on the plane, and he told me he never got the plane tickets. He told me he thought I was taking care of it, when he knew he was the one who was supposed to do it. I’d pay for everything else—all the transfers and hotels (only the best for freaking Richard!!!)—and he forgot. His one job, for the thing I’d been so excited about alllll year.

Do you remember how he told me?

Yup, it was over text.

So yeah, saying goodbye last night the way I should have when that happened—that felt good.

Fine, I guess it felt good using the money I had left over from that trip to rent that new office space, because that’s when the business really took off.

Oh my God, remember how he tried to take credit for that, and I actually gave it to him?

That gaslighting motherfucker.

Shoot.

I promised I wouldn’t swear to you in these letters. But there’s a time and a place where it’s really warranted. And that time and place is Richard.

I miss you, J. I hope there are lots of cute angel boys in heaven. Did you know that’s the last time I remember you laughing? When we made up all this ridiculous stuff about what it would be like there? Is it like we talked about?

Keep saving that spot for me either way.

—Shelby

The weekend that follows that dinner might just be my favorite to date. Probably a big part of it is because both Mac and I actively pretended we didn’t have that conversation on Friday night. Or at least I do. Maybe it’s no big deal to him. Or maybe it’s that text I sent Richard.

On Saturday morning, Mac and Nate go to the gym. Mac looks adorably nervous in his gear, asking Nate which water bottle he wants to bring as he lines up an assortment of about a half dozen on the counter. “We could do a protein shake now or maybe after,” Mac says. “Or just go classic and have some eggs? Up to you.”

“Let’s just go,” Nate says.

“Right, okay. Yeah, they have stuff there.”

As I see them out the door, Mac looks over his shoulder at me, his expression making my heart swell. He’s so earnest. So hopeful about a future with that sweet boy.

I give him a little wave, mouthinggood luck. He grins, and when I close the door, the smile stays on my face, even as I whistle for Tink to go for a walk.

I make it a long one, exploring the rocky foreshore on the other side of Mac’s place. The sea air feels almost medicinal in my lungs, the crash of waves against the rocks way out in the low tide meditative. Only Tink breaks up my Zen disposition by barking madly at a crab then bounding away with a yip as it moves in her direction. I laugh, consoling her with a squeeze and a rub behind her scruff.

When I get back, Mac’s hammering grating down on the back deck. Nate is up in his room recovering from the bench press, according to his dad.

“You want some help?” I ask, mostly because I want to hang out with him.

And he looks unnervingly hot on his hands and knees, screws pinched between his lips.

Mac leans back on his knees, plucking the screws from his mouth. “You’re interested in home improvement?”

“Not really. But I make an excellent assistant.”

At his raised eyebrow, I laugh. “Okay, maybe not excellent, but please let me help. It’s the least I can do for kicking your ass all over this deck.”

Mac shakes his head, but I can see the smile.

We spend the rest of the morning in easy conversation. The gym went well, and they’re planning on going again next week, if Nate’s not in too much pain. “He really pushed it,” Mac says. “I think there might be someone he’s trying to impress.”

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