Page 42 of Anywhere with You
But when I put the phone to my ear, I heard Bridget crying so hard she couldn’t speak.
On the floor of the elevator, I felt Cara move and imagined her leaning her head back against the wall. “You said, ‘Whatever happened, I love you and I’m here for you. But you have to tell me right now because I can’t stand hearing you cry without knowing if you’re okay.’ ”
“That’s a lot of words when what I really meant wasPull your shit together and talk to me.”
“It’s not, though,” Cara said. “You said exactly what you meant, and when Bridget said she’d been in an accident, you left without saying a word to us. To Lorenzo or me. We didn’t know what happened for days.”
I sat up straight. “Oh no, Cara. I’m so sorry.”
“No,” she said, nudging my foot with hers. “That’s not the point I’m making. The point is that there wasn’t room for anyone but her, when she needed you. And that’s amazing. Do you know what Lorenzo said when my father died?”
I nudged her foot in answer.
“He said, ‘I guess that’s one less stop we have to make at Christmas.’ ”
“What? No way. I mean, I know he’s sleeping with my wife, but I didn’t know he was that big an asshole.”
Thankfully, Cara laughed at that. She said, “I told you that I didn’t have a good relationship with my father, but that wasn’t what I needed from my husband after news of his death. What I needed wasWhatever happens, I love you and I’m here for you.Nothing too hard. Nothing too complicated. Sometimes…sometimes I’d wonder, what if I’d married my Enrique Iglesias, what would he say? What would he do? But that’s not fair. He could’ve grown up to be a complete asshole, too.”
I listened and thought about what she said, but while I thought, I finally let go of Cara’s hand while I felt around for the latches on my guitar case. I opened the lid and pulled it onto my lap, strumming at a whisper.
She went on, “So when all the mess with Lorenzo and Bridget came out, part of me thought how disappointed she’s about to be, after having been loved the way a person should be loved, for such a long time.”
“Our marriage wasn’t all like that,” I protested. “I said some snide shit too over the years.”
“Oh, that doesn’t surprise me at all.”
I kicked her and heard her snicker.
“But the point is,” she went on, “Bridget had those lovely moments as, I don’t know, as points of comparison. When you said snide shit, when you said true and wonderful things to her, she got to pick which to believe.”
“But from Lorenzo, you only got the snide shit. And the hurtful shit.”
“And not much else,” Cara agreed.
I took a deep breath of the stale air. “So what does that have to do with us being stuck in an elevator?” I asked.
“Honey,” she said, and there was softness in her voice that I hadn’t heard before.
Before I could wonder about it, the elevator jolted, taking my breath away.
We were definitely going to die. I reached out for Cara’s hand and only found it because she was reaching for me, too. We held on tight.
Then the lights flickered and stayed on.
Cara and I gasped, and I stood, pulling her up with me. I reached over and immediately started pushing thedoor openbutton repeatedly.
And it did.
Cara let out a sigh of relief, and I honest-to-God cheered. I put my foot out to hold the door while I returned my guitar to its case, and we gathered our bags, throwing straps over our shoulders and shoving phones back in pockets. Cara stood between the open doors like she’d be willing to let them crush her rather than leaving me to be stuck inside again.
I gave her a quick hug in the elevator doorway before we stepped into the hallway and into our freedom.
We stopped, looking left and right at the long hallway of closed doors. We were still on the third floor.
We wheeled our suitcases down the stairs.
Chapter Seventeen
