Page 57 of Holiday Romance
“Molly.” She sounds extremely disappointed in me. “That’s such a line.”
“It only sounds like one.”
“Because it is one!” She mutters something under her breath and I picture her pacing up and down the office. A quick check of the time tells me it’s four p.m. London time, which means it’s ten a.m. Chicago time and I feel a familiar stab of guilt. I haven’t responded to a single email since we left Buenos Aires.
“What are you going to do?”
“I was hoping you would tell me.”
“Do you like him like that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. But what if that’s exhaustion? What if it’s stress and exhaustion and instead of manifesting a gray hair or a nose pimple, it’s made me super horny?”
“Or what if you’re just super dumb and you’ve never realized what’s right in front of you?”
I flip onto my back, closing my eyes. Somewhere in the house, soft jazz music begins to play because of course it does.
Am I dumb? Sometimes obviously, but this time I don’t think so. There have been times when we’ve both been single, but even then…
I frown as I think back to his previous girlfriends. A bunch of perfectly nice women (give or take) whose Instagrams I definitely stalked for at least a few minutes when they were together. And when they were together, they weretogether. Photos of them on vacation and at parties with friends. At thrift stores and cafés and parks. They never seemed like the kind of people who would cancel plans because they had to go to work on a Sunday.
They would have put him first.
I don’t think I’ve ever put a partner first. And I tended to date people who understood that and did the same. I didn’t want to move to Seattle with Brandon. But he didn’t want to stay in Chicago with me. Is that why I’ve never thought about Andrew like that before? Why I’ve never even let myselfthinkit? Because I knew I wouldn’t be able to give him the attention he deserved and I didn’t want to do that to him?
Because I knew I could never put him first. And it’s only when I decided to make a different life for myself that I…
“Hey, Gab?” I sit up, drawing my knees to my chest. “If you didn’t get into law school, what would you have done?”
“Change of subject much?”
“Indulge me.”
She makes an unhappy sound, but she does. “I don’t know. Probably I’d have had a breakdown, dyed my hair and tried again.”
“No, I mean if you weren’t a lawyer. If for whatever reason you couldn’t have this career, what would you do?”
“Oh, that’s easy,” she dismisses. “Probably the violin thing.”
“The vio… You play the violin?”
“Yep.”
“Sincewhen?”
“Since I was five?” She laughs. “I wanted to be in an orchestra. I still get lessons once a week. Helps me calm down.”
“How do you have the time?”
“Asks the girl who once did a three-hour round trip on a Monday night because she read about a food truck she wanted to try. Same as you, Moll. I make the time. You always make the time when you want to. That’s why you’re traveling around the world right now, isn’t it?” She pauses, her voice turning so casual that it’s almost funny. “Why?” she asks. “What would you have done?”
“I don’t know.”
“But it’s something you’ve been thinking about?” she presses lightly.
“Maybe.”
There’s a bang on her end, like she’s hit her desk in triumph. “I totally called it! Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong and I knew it because I’m attuned to you.”
