Page 11 of Miles Apart
My guess is he’s with the woman who was hovering over him at the lodge. Justice and I spent the morning on a snowmobile, which put us with other singles who were hitting the slopes.Terrence was there. Justice didn’t see him—thank God—but I did. I also saw his friend, stretching a snowsuit over his burly frame and good looks. No one would judge me for doing a double take at the man with the beanie and trimmed goatee. I did, and I wasn’t alone.
The woman in question locked eyes with him from across the pine-walled registration room. She was pretty, with wavy dark brown hair, rosy cheeks, and heart-shaped lips—not that I paid attention. I grabbed Justice and my gear, put on my helmet before Miles caught me staring, and took off for the winter cold.
Justice and I cruised through tall pines on a trail coated in snow against a backdrop of mountains. I’m not what you’d call an outdoor person by any stretch of the imagination, unless it involves a beach or the Mediterranean coast. I live in Malibu for a reason. It’s a miracle I don’t have a concussion the way Justice flew over snow mounds like they were speed bumps and not knee-high tickets to the ER. This face is too cute to ruin, and I focused on the crisp air and sunshine to ignore my life flashing in front of my visor. But I stuck it out and have the keychain to prove it.
We wrapped hours ago and have been inside this bistro ever since.
“This is nice.” Justice leans into her rattan chair with a content sigh.
“Good food and cocktails will do that for you.”
She rubs her stomach over her sweater and reaches for the mug cake she has no chance of finishing.
“Does your ass feel better?” I ask.
Only my friend would twerk and get a cramp after driving us on a two-seater snowmobile. She couldn’t help herself once she got the hang of it after our safety course. Justice gets a gold star for not crashing us into a ditch, but that’s our friendship: riding until the wheels fall off.
“Yeah.” Justice squirms but nods. “It would feel a lot nicer if I didn’t have a thong wedged in my crack.”
My grin widens at her glare. “You’ll thank me later.”
This singles’ retreat is full of surprises for Justice, starting with her cluelessness about our destination and me packing her bag—which includes nothing but thongs. We’ve managed to keep our weeklong vacation tradition since college, which is a small miracle. Jay is busy being VP of marketing for her firm, and I’m the senior creative director of a luxury lingerie company.
What better way to decompress than at a resort in a winter? If Justice could jump into a Hallmark movie with a small town, tree farms, and mistletoe kisses, she’d disappear and send me a postcard. She grew up in Alexandria like I did, but she eats up those cookie-cutter stories in rustic locations with guaranteed happily ever afters. That’s my friend: a believer of love and cheer. Me? I’ll take the lumberjack in plaid whose ass looks good in jeans. Keep your sleigh rides.
Vail was supposed to be a place where Justice could clear her head, sleep in, and recharge. Who am I to judge if she gets over Terrence by getting under a new man? I love him like a brother, but I support my girl first and always.
Cobwebs, remember?
My worrisome friend gets nervous easily. While I anticipated Justice using true crime scenarios as an excuse not to socialize, Terrence’s presence is a trigger I never saw coming—same with Madison’s thirsty ass lurking in dark corners to chase after him. She already tried goading Justice at lunch yesterday, and it won’t happen again. Not on my watch.
This is only day two of the retreat, and it has to turn around.
“I need a nap and someone to roll me out of here.” Justice eyes her Nutella martini.
“Your sweet tooth always gets you in trouble,” I snicker. “Remember our junior year of high school, when you had thebright idea to melt all of your chocolate bars into a drinkbeforestuffing your face with ice cream?”
She groans. “Mom turned it into a hot chocolate recipe. She still uses it today.”
Angela Garvey isn’t my mother by blood, but she took me under her wing and hasn’t stopped loving me since Justice and I met in homeroom during our first year of high school. She doesn’t want to replace my mother, nor step on her toes, but she has been a constant maternal figure in my life. Justice’s parents showed up to school events when mine were too busy, and they made space for me in their home.
I sat at the Garvey dinner table almost every school night. I learned how to drive with Justice and her dad and spent weekends—and some weekdays—sleeping over.
State dinners and congressional connections were far more important to my parents than the memories I created with Justice’s family. That’s why she calls Ms. Angela “Mom” and not “my mom.” I’m her second daughter, someone she made room for in her big heart.
We end our lunch stuffed and talking about nothing important.
“Holy shit, Jay!”
“Do you think it’s too much?” Justice smooths the sides of her black silk dress. She is out to make a statement tonight in peep-toe booties, her natural curls in full bloom.
“Honey, if I didn’t love dick so much, I would take you home with me tonight. You lookamazing!”
After three hours in the bistro, we’re back in our suite, laughing and catching up. Justice and I are close, but texts and phone calls don’t cut it. I miss her, and I wish we lived closer. Myintroverted best friend is off to a whiskey-tasting tonight, and she’s going solo. The fact that she hasn’t run back to Austin yet is a testament to the strength she doesn’t realize she has.
I wish I could take away her pain of loving someone until it hurt too much to stay, but I’ve never known that type of adoration, and I struggle with how to show up for her—even if she tells me I’m enough.
“Where are you off to tonight?” Justice puts the finishing touch on her red lipstick and glances at me in the mirror.
