Halfway to You(64)

For the first time since I’d moved to Rome, the apartment felt foreign. The teal glass horse sparkled on my bookshelf beside the first edition of Chasing Shadows, but the rest of my things—the bed, the desk, the empty vegetable basket on the counter—were interchangeable, like a stage set.

Was this place a home, without someone to share it with? While I cherished my simple, independent life, my heart had grown cavernous and hollow from the ever-present lonesomeness of living so far from the man I loved.

I approached my landline, calculating the time difference between Rome and New York—or was Todd back in Colorado by now? His flight had been twelve hours after mine. I’d lost track of the time between us.

When I reached the phone, there was already a message waiting. I hit play and pressed my fingers over my mouth. Static rustled the speakers; then Todd’s voice came through crisp and clear.

Ann, it’s Todd. You’re probably on a plane now, but I couldn’t wait to hear your voice, even if it was just your recording. I’m back at the hotel, packing and checking out. Sweetheart, I’m sorry about how we left things at the airport. I’m sorry I didn’t grab you and kiss you like I meant it. I hate our goodbyes, don’t you? I hate being apart. I hate this distance between us. Change is scary—because this is so good, isn’t it? this thing we have going on between us?—but you can’t blame me for wanting to be closer. I want all of you, Copper.

Anyway, I know I’m rambling. I guess I called to tell you that I miss you already, and I think maybe we should go upstate with Keith this winter. I haven’t had a real Christmas in a long time, and I’m ready to have a real one with you.

In the meantime, I hope you get some writing done; I hope I’m not the reason you’ve been struggling to write something new.

Okay, I need to leave for the airport. I love you.

I played the message again, just to continue listening to his voice.





MAGGIE


San Juan Island, Washington State, USA

Wednesday, January 10, 2024

Back at the B&B, Maggie collapses onto the bed with a long, ragged exhale. Her phone died hours ago, entirely spent from all the missed texts and calls from family; after the day she’s had, she’s grateful to finally be alone and unreachable—but then a soft knock sounds on her door. She ignores it. Probably the innkeeper with fresh towels, or some other nonurgent service.

Maggie rubs her sandy eyes, sighing again.

Another knock, this time more persistent.

Again, Maggie ignores it. She’s not sure she could heave her tired body off the bed; her muscles ache from the monumental emotions of the past twenty-four hours.

This time the knock is forceful—downright impatient. “I saw your car parked out front, Maggie, I know you’re in there.”

Maggie sits upright, not quite believing the muffled voice she just heard. When she unlocks the door, she finds Brit in the quaint hallway, a grocery bag in hand.

Resting a hand on her hip, Brit says, “I can’t believe you told Grant before you told me.”

“What are you doing here?”

Brit scratches the back of her neck, ruffling her hot-pink pixie hairdo. “You’re my friend.”

Maggie smiles at the unspoken explanation: that when you care about someone, you show up.

“Besides,” Brit says, pushing past Maggie into the room, “Chunky Monkey solves all.”

Twenty minutes later, they’re nestled against the headboard eating ice cream out of coffee mugs, cackling with laughter at Grant’s expense. Apparently, after he got off the phone with Maggie and Ann this morning, he spiraled into a tizzy fit. Maggie isn’t proud of the delight it gives her to imagine her boss spilling coffee on himself midtirade, but it’s been a long day, and it feels good to laugh.

After they’ve caught their breath, Brit sets her mug aside, and Maggie knows what’s coming. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Maggie has been compartmentalizing the news of Todd all day; now, it wells in her eyes like a spring—but she doesn’t let it spill. “I’m still . . .”

“Processing,” Brit finishes for her, nodding. “I get it.”

Maggie grasps her friend’s hand. “Thank you for coming.”

This must be how Ann felt that first time that Todd flew to Rome for her; Maggie’s chest is warm with surprise and gratitude and relief. A brief respite in the midst of upheaval.

“When do you have to go back?” Maggie asks.

“Already sick of me?” Brit elbows her. “I’m on the first boat tomorrow morning. But don’t worry, you can keep the leftover Chunky Monkey.”

“Thank goodness.”

“I would stay longer, but you have your interviews, and there’s a lot to do at the office now that your episode is back on track. Next time, warn me before you undermine our boss and drop a career-altering project in my lap?”

“Will do,” Maggie says. “I still can’t believe you came all this way.”

Brit shrugs. “The drive is only, like, five hours—when you do it right.”

Maggie sticks her tongue out, and they descend into giggles.

Maybe Maggie should spill her guts to Brit while her friend is here—she’ll have to work through her emotions at some point—but for tonight, she allows herself some levity. Of all the people in her life, Brit is the only person whose company is uncomplicated—and that’s exactly what Maggie needs right now.