Page 7 of Anywhere with You
I thought about my parents’ nagging concern, my mother’s insistence that I can move back into my childhood bedroom whenever I needed, and Florence’s continual declarations of pity.
And I thought about those damned Mesmio reels of Bridget and Lorenzo kissing on the beach, and how I hadn’t shared or posted anything on any social media site since Bridget left, and how she probably thought that I was grieving, wallowing in despair, working constantly to manage the pain.
Well, screw her.
“I just think—” Cara said.
“Okay,” I interrupted. “I’m in.”
Cara looked up, wide-eyed. “Really?”
“Yes. When do we leave?” Suddenly, it sounded like such a good idea that I was ready to race home and pack. Who needs a plan?
“Okay,” Cara said, her eyes excited. “Friday is an early release day, and after that is spring break.”
“So, Friday?” I asked.
She nodded. “We can take my car. I get excellent gas mileage.”
“Yeah, sure, butwhereare we going?”
Cara froze, as though the thought hadn’t occurred to her. I, on the other hand, had a thousand ideas, but just then, Doug emerged from the break room, looking cheerful and holding up the book.
“That was so awesome. Thanks, boss.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Hey, Doug, do you have a favorite vacation spot?”
“Sure. Barbados.”
“That’s a little out of our price range,” I said. “In the contiguous US?”
Doug thought about it, tapping Elizabeth Acevedo against the cash register. “It’s a tie. I really love DC. It’s fascinating, and you can’t beat the Smithsonian. But the redwoods on the West Coast are also unforgettable. And with climate change, who knows how long we’ll have them?”
Cara made a small sound of distress. I looked at her, and she seemed to struggle to keep her expression neutral.
“Redwoods, then?” I asked her.
She nodded, and as though she couldn’t hold it in for another minute, she smiled hugely, her eyes crinkling.
I turned back to Doug. “Interested in picking up some extra hours next week?”
Doug’s grin widened, too. “Always.”
Florence’s answer, the next morning, was slightly more colorful.
“Well,” she said, “I’m happier than a dog with two dicks.”
“You’re…what now?”
“I’m delighted. I’m so very glad that you’re getting out of town and getting some fresh air. You need it. And,” she added, unknowingly echoing Cara, “you deserve it.”
You can’t argue with logic like that.
Chapter Six
If there was any doubt in my mind about my decision, it ended on Monday morning, when Bridget posted a Mesmio reel from the last-minute cruise to Mexico that Lorenzo had bought tickets for.
I watched it four more times, growing a little more irritated each time. Was that why I kept watching her reels? Because feeling grossed out by their spit swapping and annoyed at her flamboyant happiness felt better than sitting alone, heartbroken?
