Page 29 of The One You Chose

I picked it up, unfolding it to find it was from Fitz.

Lina,

They’re having me change rooms. I’m in 147 now. I hope you’ll come see me or give me a call so we can see each other again. I had a great time and I’d really like to see you again.

-Fitz (Dier, I think I forgot to tell you last night)

His phone number was on the bottom. He wanted me to stay. He was telling the truth about that.

I looked up from the paper to see Sandy scowling at me.

“Why didn’t you give me this when I stopped by?” I asked, trying in vain to keep the annoyance out of my voice.

She shrugged. “Walter wrote Regina on the envelope he put it in. And honestly, you’ve never liked me, so I wasn’t going to go out of my way and invade a guest’s privacy to help you with your little booty calls. It might not be that impressive to someone like you, but I like my job.”

“Who says I don’t like you?” Studying her, I tried to figure out what it was. When I was a child, I remembered coming home to my mother crying because one of the other girls in my school, Tracy Penrose, told me my hair made me look like Mickey Mouse. Whatever that meant. Even if I didn’t like people, I wanted them to like me. It was dumb but true. The same feeling came rushing back to me with Sandy. I didn’t really know her but I wanted her to like me. This desperation was an ugly thing. “I don’t know why you would think that. I like you.”

Sandy rolled her eyes at me. “Whatever. We’re adults, I don’t need you to be my friend. I was just feeling guilty about not giving this to you so I stuck it in my purse in case I saw you.”

Refolding the note I placed it inside my wallet beside a picture of my niece. Sandy was now shrugging her purse over her shoulder in an attempt to leave.

“Thank you.” It wasn’t her fault, not really. It was no-one's.

That made all this worse. I knew I couldn’t blame Fitz alone for the misunderstanding. Could he have told me earlier, sure. But I was the one who left that morning with no notice.

Sandy shot me a sarcastic wave before leaving me alone with a month-old note, a bottle of cheap champagne, and my regrets.

Fingering the note, I knew what I had to do.

nineteen

New Year's Eve

Fitz

Ishowedupatthe brewery early enough that they were still serving people. Lina’s tree was away from the heat lamps, but I didn’t care. I sat down beneath her tree, my amber beer in one hand and my phone in the other. It was now a waiting game of whether Lina would show up. If being true to my word was going to be the only way she’d trust me again, I was going to do that. I wasn’t going to leave until the next morning, if I took that long.

Nine forty-five rolled around and my toes were getting cold in their wool socks and boots. I stashed a thermos of hot coffee in the bag at my feet, but I didn’t want to pull that out until the owner closed up shop. Across the rain-soaked road the Skol House was getting busy, with revelers showing their ID to the temporary bouncer at the door. The bright flashing beer signs in the window advertising the latest spiked seltzer. The sounds of early aughts hip-hop trickled into the street, so loud I could feel the bass. I knew inside the bar, the air would be heavy with sweat, spilled beer, and too much cologne. But out on the patio of the brewery, the air was crisp and cold. I could smell the brine of Freedom Bay and dirt of the streets.

“Hey man, I got to close up.” Kat, the owner and “beer-tender” came out to tell me. We had spoken a few days before about the likelihood the Sonics would come back to Seattle, (prognosis, unknown) and the best place to mountain bike in the area. She had recently gotten a rescue from the Humane Society, a lab-pit bull mix named Dane, that was sleeping in his bed in the corner. She told me earlier that her and Dane were going to a party in nearby Illahee to ring in the new year.

I handed her my empty glass and motioned to the outside area. “Is it okay if I hang out here? I was kind of waiting on someone.”

Hesitating, she glanced around as if there was someone around listening. “Okay, but I have to lock my doors, so don’t go peeing on my bushes or anything.”

Watching as she locked up the small brewery, the lights going out on the brewing equipment in the back until the only light was a small one above the bar. She whistled for her dog and they both climbed into her truck to drive away. Without the lights of the brewery on, the patio was a dark wash of indigo sky and charcoal streets.

As I grabbed the hot coffee out of my bag, I ignored the bottle of champagne and two plastic flutes I bought at the party store. These were hopeful purchases. Screwing off the top of the thermos, I drank from the lip, not bothering to pour it out into the small cup lid. The cold air was biting into my legs now. I had long since lost feeling in my toes, but I would be true to my word. Lina deserved that.

An hour later, the music in the Skol House hadn’t changed much, but there were two fights on the sidewalk to keep me entertained. Apparently, some blonde-haired man had hit on a guy’s girlfriend. Twenty minutes later, a girl came running out of the bar with two friends at her heels crying about cheating douche-bags. A minute after that a beefy-looking man followed behind her yelling that it wasn’t what it looked like.

I checked the time on my phone. 11:17. Less than an hour until the new year. After drinking the entire thermos, nature was beginning to call. I had promised Kat that I wouldn’t pee on her bushes but the only place I could use was the Skol House. At the door, the bouncer made me pay a fifteen-dollar cover charge to come in even after I exclaimed, I only wanted to use the bathroom. My need won out and handed the money over, rushing to the back corner room as fast as I could through the crowd. I saw Cooper’s cousin Nova being hit on by some guy and walked faster, not wanting to talk with her.

Once I was back outside, I walked past the bouncer and back to the brewery. Approaching the chair, I was in I stopped in my tracks as a figure turned at the sound of my footsteps. My breath caught in my throat as I looked at Lina. She wore a red hat, pulled down over her long dark hair. I couldn’t tell if she was wearing a dress or pants under her long white wool coat. She was a vision of red, black and white before me.

“You came,” I asked more than stated as if he couldn’t believe I was there either.

“I did.” She stuffed her gloved hands in the pocket of her jacket and stepped closer to me.

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