Page 88 of Anywhere with You
I hurried to the next aisle, pretending to study toothbrush holders and steadying my breath. It was perfectly normal to be jealous of towels. Not strange at all. And how great was it to have friends? Friends were great. This was so…great.
Cara found me a few minutes later. She had a stack of towels and matching washcloths in her shopping cart. I wondered if I would ever be able to use them without thinking about her hands.
I pushed away the thought and held up a cactus-shaped toothbrush holder in an unnaturally vibrant shade of green.
She squinted. “Whatever makes you happy, Honey.”
“Then I definitely need the matching soap dispenser.”
That evening, we took a break from unpacking and sat on the balcony in my former backyard chairs, sipping glasses of iced tea and listening to a blues band playing in the park.
We had talked about doing a short video for our Mesmio followers now that Cara was back, and unusually for us, we planned out what to say ahead of time, commemorating the end of our trip and closing out our Mesmio series.
Now, I pointed the phone camera at Cara. “Look who’s home!”
She smiled. “Houston is definitely home. If you haven’t gotten around to visiting Honey’s store, Strings & Things, you absolutely should. I was there a couple of days ago, and it’s a music-lover’s paradise.”
I turned the camera to capture us both.
“Now, you aren’t a musician yourself, are you, Cara?”
“I rocked a mean triangle in middle school, but otherwise, no, Honey.”
“So for the other latent musicians, what mighttheyfind of interest at Strings & Things?”
“Well, Honey, you can always learn something new, buy a gift for a friend, or if nothing else…it’s a good place to pick up a guitarist.”
It was a scripted joke, and not a particularly good one, but Cara delivered it with a wry smile, and her eyes were on me, not the camera. I’d have to edit out the part where I returned her gaze and was the first to look away.
I got us refills of iced tea and held my own cold glass against my burning cheeks before going back out to the balcony, Badger whining to join us.
The music from the park below had picked up in tempo, and Cara was leaning back in her chair, eyes closed, soaking in the melodies and the last of the sunshine, her smile content. I’d imagined us just like this, relaxing here at the end of a busy day, legs outstretched, her mauve-painted toes inches from mine.
My fourth-floor balcony provided an excellent view of the hundreds of beautiful old oak trees, people flying kites, and children playing in Gateway Fountain.
“Badger is terrified of that fountain,” I said.
“It’s water shooting up twenty times his height. I think I’d be scared, too. I’d be wondering, why is this bath so aggressive?”
I snorted. Below, one of the kids squealed loud enough to be heard over both the traffic and the blues band.
“How does Badger feel about the balcony?”
I risked a glance, but Cara wasn’t looking at me. She had leaned forward to watch the rhythm of the fountains as the water surged and collapsed. It could be hypnotizing.
“I haven’t let him out here yet,” I admitted. “He would have no trouble wiggling between the bars, and it’s a long fall.”
“We’ll find some balcony netting,” Cara said, measuring the distance between the bars with her hand.
“Or I could buy him a collar with really big spikes.”
“Yes. Forget about what I said. That is the solution.”
I laughed, and she grinned at me, glowing golden in the sunset, the scattered light bringing a shining warmth to her breeze-tousled hair. It wasn’t the first sunset I’d spent with Cara, not by a long shot, but this one seemed to touch her more gently. She seemed relaxed, and it was a good look for her. It was one I’d like to see more often.
“Do you think you’ll like it?” she asked, her voice low.
I realized I’d been staring and tried to find my ice cubes as fascinating as I found Cara. “Like what?”
