Page 57 of Dove
“When did you get in?” I sipped tentatively at my steaming coffee, attempting to ignore the sight of Josh out the kitchen’s bay windows, nothing but a tiny figure against the sprawling countryside.
Rev sighed into her coffee, eyes closing in bliss as if it was something much fancier than classic Folgers. “Late last night. My sleep schedule isfucked.” She blew at the liquid before taking a sip, humming in satisfaction.
I rolled my eyes. “What sleep schedule? You’re the queen of staying out late and still being able to look presentable at a reasonable time in the morning.”
Her smile turned devilish. “I’m not denying that. In Cali,sure. But jet lagged? That’s a whole other beast.”
Speaking of California…
“How long did you get off for?” Even with the text she’d sent me mentioning coming home, this was certainly a random visit from her, what with there being no holiday in sight. Even then, the call to visit home for the holidays didn’t always lure her in. I considered her from across the table, but her focus remained on the gleaming cherry wood of the tabletop, steadfastly not meeting my eyes. “I imagine your schedule will really be thrown out of whack when you go back.”
She only made a noncommittal sound before taking another drink of her coffee.
My eyes narrowed in suspicion. Reverie was a lot of things, but a bullshitter wasn’t one of them. If she had something to say, she had no problem saying it. Her avoidance was a giant red flag.
“Youaregoing back, aren’t you?” I asked, thinking of the most preposterous thing I could think of to loosen her up, expecting her to laugh at the ridiculousness of my question until she told me what was really bothering her.
But once again her silence was deafening, and her eyes met mine only to dart away again, which could only mean one thing.
“Rev.”
Her mug clanked down on the tabletop. “Renzo wants to sell the salon to me,” she blurted.
I blinked. “You mean he wants to make you a partner?”
“No.” She shook her head, her loosely curled blonde locks swaying around her shoulders. “He had some sort of spiritual awakening while tripping balls at a festival two months back. I guess it directed him to greater things than LA, apparently. Go figure. He wants to sell, pack up, andgo.”
“Gowhere?”I couldn’t imagine upheaving your whole life over a drug-altering experience. Angelenos were a whole different breed…
“I have no fucking idea.”
“Isn’t that good news? You love that salon, you love Los Angeles.”
“I do,” she answered slowly. “But…”
My brows furrowed.But?This was the first time I’d ever heard her unsure of her decision to move to California. The plane had barely landed on the tarmac before she’d been texting me, exclaiming how in love she was with the city all those years ago. It hadn’t surprised me one bit. LA suited her personality, which had always been just a tad too big and a little too loud for the small country town we lived in.
“But?” I prompted, curious.
She let out a gusty sigh, pushing her coffee aside so she could flop down on the table, her head cradled in her arms. “I don’t know, Dee. I asked him for time to think on it, and he said he’d give me till the end of this month but I…”
“Packed up and flew home instead?” I finished for her. Reverie had a knack of running from her problems. Up to and including moving to LA—even though it had been a lifelong dream of hers. It had also been fueled by her avoidance of a particular six-foot-three, two-hundred-something-pound problem she called her boyfriend.
Ex-boyfriend now.
“Yes,” she groaned. “Ipanicked. When I think about owningRouge, a part of my heart soars, but another part…”
I didn’t interrupt her this time, knowing she needed to work through this on her own, with a listening ear. That’s what best friend were for, weren’t they? Knowing when to step in and advise but also knowing when it was time to step back and just be a comforting presence.
I’d missed being there for Rev, and I hated that she’d been going through all this alone. But she was here now, and I would help her with this dilemma as best as I could.
“Another part,” she began again quietly, her hazel eyes peeking over her arms at me, “tells me it’s not what I want.” She paused, as if looking for the right words to describe what she felt. “It’s toopermanent.It feels like I’m… missing something.”
Or someone, I absolutely didn’t say, knowing better. I’d have to ease her into that particular conversation. There were instant sore subjects for Reverie, and her ex, Zeke, was one of them. It had ended in a fiery, heartbreaking shit show (of her own doing), and wasn’t something I wanted to dredge up for her if she was already feeling vulnerable.
I nodded understandingly instead. Because Icouldunderstand that feeling, that “missing something” (orsomeone) feeling, perfectly.
My hand reached across the table for hers. I clasped it tightly and squeezed to remind her I was here for her no matter what.
