A Cosmic Kind of Love(45)

Friday 18:04

Thanks. I don’t know how it’ll turn out, but I think it’s a good thing. I think it might help me figure some things out.

Friday 18:05

Definitely. I’d love to hear more about it when you feel like sharing.

Friday 18:05

Absolutely.

I haven’t told a lot of people about this.

Friday 18:05

I won’t tell anyone.

Friday 18:05

Thanks. I appreciate it.

Friday 18:06

I’m looking forward to tomorrow.

Friday 18:06

Me too.





EIGHTEEN





Chris


I was playing with fire.

When it came to Hallie Goodman, I was definitely playing with fire. She’d gotten into the rental car dressed in jeans, a T-shirt tucked into them, and an oversized cardigan. Her hair was styled, but she wore less makeup than I’d seen her wear before. I didn’t care what she wore, I realized. She appealed to me in all her guises. Therefore, as I’d leaned against the car, waiting for her, I’d wanted to cross the distance between us. I wanted to greet her with a kiss on that luscious mouth of hers.

She’d approached me, a radiant smile on her face, and I felt a strong flicker of guilt that I still hadn’t told her about the videos. I’d shoved it down, not wanting to ruin this weekend, and grinned at her as she stopped before me.

“Wow. You’re short in those Converses,” I’d teased.

Hallie had rolled her eyes. “I’m average height.”

“I’m average height.”

“For a woman. I’m average height for a woman.” She’d tilted her head to the side, her hair shimmering in the morning sunlight. “And good morning, Captain.”

I’d chuckled. “Good morning, Goodman. You ready for the Hamptons?”

She’d lifted a large purse that looked heavy. “Got my notebook, my tablet, essentials. Ready to do this.”

The two-hour drive with Hallie was easy. Too easy. It seemed we were drawn to each other like binary stars. It was addictive and disorienting. We discovered within five minutes of the drive that we shared the same taste in music, and that got us talking for a huge part of the journey about concerts we’d been to. We swapped stories about our musical adventures, and Hallie played a couple of bands I hadn’t heard of. Unsurprisingly, I liked them a lot. It was much less intense conversation than we’d had previously, and while the heavy conversation drew me deeply to her, this was nice too.

I liked the way she talked with her hands, always in motion, always animated and enthusiastic. She was refreshing and reminded me a little of my aunt Richelle.

We were on the highway, nearing East Hampton, when Hallie turned to me and confessed, “I’ve never visited the Hamptons. Grew up in Newark, then lived in New York my whole adult life except for when I was at college in Massachusetts. And I’ve never been to the Hamptons. If we wanted to go to a local-ish beach, we drove to Long Beach.”

I threw her a smile. “You’ll like it here. Aunt Richelle’s house sits right on the water. It’s quiet this time of year.”

“Not that I’ll be able to enjoy it. I’m here to work,” she reminded me.

“I’m sure we can fit in a walk along the beach. Oh, and you’re good with dogs, right?”

“Sure.” Her smile turned sad. “I had a golden retriever growing up called Mike. When he died, my mom didn’t want another dog. And I can’t have one now because I work so much.”

“I’m sorry about your dog.”

“Thanks.”

“You named him Mike?” My lips twitched against the urge to laugh.

Hallie laughed and it was a sweet sound. “What is wrong with Mike?”

“It’s just an unusual name for a dog.”

“My parents said I could name him, and I wanted to name him Mike.” She shrugged. “I have no reasoning. Or at least I can’t remember it.”

She was so fucking adorable. I grinned at her, and she laughed again.

This felt good. Being here with her.

In fact, it felt great.

A little while later, I announced we were officially in East Hampton. Hallie watched the tree-lined streets pass by. “It’s so pretty. I’d love to see it in the fall.”

“Is that your favorite season?”

“I also love summer. Not so much summer in the city, but just the nostalgia of summer, I guess. We spent a lot of our summers in the Florida Keys, and those were the few times in my childhood where my parents seemed to get along. It was three weeks of palm trees, turquoise water, and white sand. Mom and Dad weren’t arguing all the time, and I could just relax and be a kid.” She frowned suddenly. “I’m sorry. I don’t know where that came from. Excuse the downer.”

I wanted to ask more about her parents. How she was doing with their crazy postdivorce antics, but I couldn’t. Because I wasn’t supposed to know. “Hey, I’ve talked to you about personal stuff. It’s cool. I’m sorry they were like that.”

She shrugged. “Other kids have it worse. Okay, so some of these houses are not what I expected.”

“Did you imagine big colonial-style houses everywhere?”