Page 82 of Goodbye Again
I hear him take the stairs, seemingly two steps at a time as I hastily finish securing the Velcro on the diaper and snap upthe sleeper. Just as I scoop Anjali into my arms, JP appears like magic in the doorway.
He looks entirely the same and completely different. My mind flashes back to the day we met on the plane a year and a half ago. The joggers and white t-shirt. The clean white Nikes. His thick brown hair. His light green eyes. The freckle on his lip.
His face breaks out into a gigantic smile at the sight of me.
I try to muster up a greeting, but the only words that come out are, “You didn’t call.”
He turns ghostly pale and his eyes do this droopy thing that make me feel immediately drawn to him. I watch him swallow hard, then he says, “I don’t know why I didn’t.”
I try to pretend my heart doesn’t flutter.
The memory of us lying in the grass looking at the stars, and talking about God and my dreams about my grandma, and the memory of him and me naked in twisted sheets, play on a loop as he starts walking toward me. He looks completely the same—except he has a mustache.
I can’t help but comment. “Nice mustache.”
His thumb and index finger run over it. “Grew it out for Movember, kept it for Christmas.” He grins wide. He can pull it off. “Do you like it?”
“It’s fine,” I lie then clear my throat, cradling my niece in my arms. Her large polka-dot bow covering half her face. “This is Anjali.”
He slows down the closer he gets, as if he’s afraid his footsteps are too loud for a brand-new human.
“Jules.” He breathes my name more than says it.
“Oh, good, you remember my sister!” Emily says from the doorway. I glance at her, casually holding her mug of coffee and leaning against the doorway.
“Oh, she is just a doll!” The tall redhead says behind my sister. Her eyes are dark brown, and her lashes are thick. Shehas the perfect smattering of freckles on her nose, and she’s wearing JP’s sweatshirt. I don’t know if it’s the same one that was hanging on my bar stool a year and half ago, but the hoodie I ripped off him looks eerily similar to the one hanging on her slender frame. Her long red hair drapes over her shoulders with far too much volume for someone who just hopped off a plane.
She moves closer, drawn to the tiny person in my arms and not at all recognizing me. She holds a hand to her chest. “I need to wash my hands so I can hold her,” she says, then looks up at me for the first time. “I’m Audrey, by the way.”
She doesn’t recognize me. I swallow the sticky fear in my throat. “Julia.”
“JP’s fiancée,” she clarifies.
“Ah.” I force a smile, and no one seems to notice the angry flush creeping up my neck or the lack of oxygen in the room. “Nice to meet you.”
She clutches a hand to her chest and squeals, making Anjali startle in my arms with a jerk. “I’ll be back.” Audrey turns to my sister. “Can you show me where to put our bags? I want to change out of airport clothes and wash up before I hold her.”
“Sure. This way,” Emily says, then hollers downstairs to Austin. “Can you grab JP’s suitcase?”
“You’re staying here?” I ask, doing my best to sound calm. But really, I’m hoping I don’t hear him bang his fiancée in the guest bedroom next to mine.
“Yeah, are you staying here too?”
I nod.
“They certainly upgraded from their condo since last summer,” he comments.
I nod again. “Five bedroom, two and a half bath. The real suburban dream.”
There’s an awkward pause where there shouldn’t be. A question we shouldn’t answer.
“How long are you staying?” he asks.
“Until New Year’s.”
His turn to nod. “Same.”
I clear my throat, thankful Anjali is still in my arms to give me some feeling of importance. At least I know what to do with my hands.
