Page 58 of Weekends with You

At the sound of the landing gear, I swiped my face with a wet wipe and added another flick of mascara for good measure. Plus, a little extra deodorant. It might have been cold outside, but stress made me sweat.

I dislodged my backpack from the overhead compartment and took a deep breath, imagining myself as the main character of a film. I shrugged my shoulders for effect, then headed off to find a ride to his apartment.

I texted him from the back of a cab.

Looking forward to our FaceTime. Still on for 7:30, right? xx

He texted back almost immediately.

Yeah

That’s it? Just “yeah”?He wasn’t usually a one-word texter, which meant I wasn’t off to a hot start. I struggled to remind myself to breathe. Maybe he was just busy and only had a second to be on his phone. Maybe he meant to type more but sent the text too soon. Or maybe he just had nothing else to say, which was also a perfectly viable option. I needed to calm down.

I dropped my phone in my lap and leaned my head against the cab window, watching Amsterdam flit by. The tall, narrow buildings nestled against each other like an antique Christmas village, and the golden light of the sunset bounced off hundreds of windows. Tulip season was just beginning, and I admired the tenacity of the few colorful buds I saw dottingwindow boxes and small gardens along the sidewalk. They were still tightly closed, but preparing to bloom—just waiting for their time.

For the tulips, that was easy. It was the only way they knew how to survive. And I knew it was silly to envy a flower, but sometimes it was impossible not to envy a thing that knew itself so well: how to grow, how to turn its face to the sun, how to become the best version of itself, over and over again. And when they were fickle, those times we didn’t give them enough water or sun or love, we couldn’t blame the flowers. We just gave them grace and care and promised to treat them better next time.

Flowers were universally valued and accepted as emblems of love, comfort, celebration. They were beautiful even when they withered and died. We pressed their petals between the pages of old books, soaked them in glossy resin and hung them around our necks, buried them in wax and burned those candles late into the night. Sometimes, on long days in the shop, I dreamed about what it would be like if we gave the same grace and love to each other.

The cab wound through the last few narrow, cobbled streets to Henry’s Airbnb, then deposited me on the sidewalk outside. I thanked the driver, paid the fare, and stood facing the door like a statue.

“Is this the right address?” the driver asked through the open window.

“Yes, er, just not ready to go inside yet.” That was more information than he needed, but my nerves had returned and turned me into an idiot.

“Very well. Have a good night.”

“You too.”

I decided to take a walk around the block before the bigsurprise. I needed a minute to gather myself, and I was a bit carsick from the ride over. The cool, damp air was making my hair frizzier by the minute, but it was too refreshing for me to care. I let it settle on my face, breathing deeply and counting my steps as I walked.

I’d timed it almost perfectly—we were set to FaceTime in five minutes. It was now or never. I texted him with jittery hands, circling back toward the house.

Hey, check the front door before we jump on FaceTime. I had something delivered. X

Thankfully, he returned my text right away.

You what?

Was he in a mood? I pulled my coat tighter around my body, feeling more insecure the longer I stood there. Had Raja been right?

Before I could even text back, the heavy door flung open. And there he was.

His lips parted just slightly, surprise sitting in the open space. It was probably only a split second before he registered me on the doorstep, but it felt like hours.

“Luce,” he said with so little enthusiasm, my name practically disappeared on the gentle breeze.

“Surprise,” I said. “Is this a bad time, or...” I gestured to his raggedy house clothes and his tousled hair, which was long enough now to need to be brushed, though from the look of it, I wasn’t sure he knew that.

“No, no, I’m just shocked, that’s all. Come in. What areyou doing here?” He smiled the breathless kind of smile that seemed to take a few minutes to settle in.

“Last time you were home, you were saying you wished you could see more of me while you were on the road, so I figured I’d bring me to you.” We were still standing in the entryway, blinking at each other with the door open.

“Wow,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “What a surprise.”

“Is everything okay?” I asked. This was crazy. I knew that now. Standing there in the foyer of his temporary Dutch home, both of us with our arms by our sides, I had a feeling I’d made a huge mistake.

“Yes, absolutely fine,” he said. “It’s great to see you.” He pulled me into a hug so brief I hardly had a chance to lift my arms to hug him back. He closed the door behind us, gesturing up the stairs to another heavy wooden door.

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