The Life That Mattered (Life #1)(16)

“No.”

She grunted. “Then you know your father will not be visiting quite yet.”

“Fair enough. Did Julien call?”

“Yes. He called this morning.”

“He video chatted with her,” Dad yelled in the background. “Showed her the water lily mobile he made for her birthday.”

“Aw … sounds nice,” I replied with as much sincerity as I could muster. My brother was two years younger than me. He had a wife and two daughters and a booming career as a successful artist. Some of his recycled-material mobiles hung in art museums.

I epitomized the opposite of Julien. My first real companion, a rescue dog named Rex, died of cancer. Gianna, my girlfriend of two years, left me because she thought my life was too unsettled for her relationship goals. And … I was the worst gift-giver—ever.

In my defense, it’s not that I lacked the desire to be a generous person. I wanted to be amazing in that department. I also wanted to travel by teleportation. If I’m completely honest, I had a better chance at that than becoming the Martha Stewart of great gifts.

“It’s a lovely mobile, but this call from you means just as much to me,” Mom reassured me.

The truth? She absolutely meant it. My mom watched me agonize over gifts for as long as I can remember being old enough to buy gifts for other people. I missed the days of messy glitter glue and scribbled stick figures on a card made from folding a piece of construction paper in half. She loved that stuff, still had every card Julian and I made. Of course … Julien’s cards were origami cranes or some exceptional shit like that.

“I won’t keep you. I know it’s late there. Just wanted to tell you I love you and wish you a happy birthday.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. Have you made friends?”

I chuckled. She asked me this every time I moved to a new location. And by friends, she meant had I met a woman. My usual answer was no. Then she responded with a sigh because she wanted grandkids from me so badly. My generation’s lackadaisical attitude toward starting a family drove her crazy. Julien, however, also set the bar too damn high by marrying the first girl he kissed and spreading his biological seeds as quickly as possible. He didn’t get the memo about our generation.

“As a matter of fact …”

“Oh, Ronin! Tell me all about her—or him. You know we don’t care.”

“Thanks. It really is kind of you to respect my sexual preference. However, she’s a woman. I met her in Vancouver, but she lives here in Aspen. We had breakfast and dinner the day we met, and we’re having dinner tonight. Happy birthday.”

She laughed. “That’s really why you called. You knew the best birthday present you could give me is this.”

I silently commended her for not giving unnecessary emphasis on the word you.

Julien made a work of art. I met a girl.

The honorable mention son.

Don’t get me wrong. Julien was amazing. I knew the mobile had to be great. Evelyn, however, was stunning beyond words. So … I won that round.

“Of course, I knew my gift would please you. Also, she’s agreed to marry me. We haven’t sorted the details.”

Silence.

“Um … wow! Okay …”

I chuckled. “What? Isn’t this what you’ve wanted for years?”

“Well, yes. But I just thought. I mean, you’ve known her how long?”

“Technically two weeks. But we’ve been together about eight to nine hours total.” I rubbed my mouth to hide my smirk that she couldn’t see anyway.

“And you proposed?” Her voice shot up an octave.

“Not exactly. She suggested it, and I didn’t think it was a terrible idea.”

“Wh-what exactly does that mean?”

“It means I’m joking just to get a reaction out of you.”

“Oh, Ronin! You don’t even have a date tonight, do you?”

I laughed. “I do. That part is true. Her name is Evelyn. She’s a chemist who makes body products. She owns a store here in Aspen called Clean Art. You’d like her.”

“Do you like her?”

“Well, I’m having dinner with her, so yes. It’s safe to say I like her. Probably more than makes sense given our nine-hour acquaintance.”

“She’s special. I can tell. I can tell from the tone of your voice.”

I ran my fingers through my hair and flipped on the shower since I took a hike after visiting Evelyn. “Yes. I think she’s special.” The words sounded so foreign to me. Did they really come out of my mouth? I hadn’t known her long enough for my feelings to make sense, but some things didn’t make sense. That didn’t make them less true. Less real.

“Trust that. I know it’s hard for you to trust your feelings since …” She trailed off.

Since my accident. Sometimes I felt things that weren’t mine to feel.

“One day at a time. Love you, Mom.”



Evelyn breezed into the restaurant ten minutes late, peeling her unruly blond hair from her face, vibrant blue eyes scanning the tables. I didn’t draw her attention to me yet because I wanted a moment to just watch her—just one moment to sort out some things in my head.

I admired the beautiful mess, dropping her keys on the floor, fighting to slide off her pink puffy ski jacket while it simultaneously pulled on her black sweater that hung off one shoulder. When she spied me, I smiled, and she mirrored my expression.