Unbreak My Heart(33)

“It’s a little escape from all the noise. Don’t get me wrong. I love the sounds and lights of the city,” she says as we walk to the edge of the canal, stopping at the railing. “But I love finding these little enclaves too. I used to come here now and then when I wanted to . . . go quiet.”

“Did you need that a lot?” I ask, imagining her in this same spot a year ago, by herself, staring at the placid water below.

“Sometimes. My job was a little crazy—late nights, wanting to impress the doctors. Every now and then I needed to recharge, so I came here if I couldn’t get away to Kyoto.”

That’s where her folks retired to, three hours away. “Did you see your parents a lot?”

She nods, her eyes sparkling as they do when she talks about them. “At least once or twice a month. Lunches, dinners, or just days spent shopping and wandering around the city. Sometimes I’d go to Kyoto for the weekend and crash at their place.”

“That must have been nice.” I’m both happy for her and a little wistful too, wishing I could see mine for a weekend. “What else did you do while you were here in Tokyo?”

“You want me to fill in the last three years?” she asks, with a laugh.

“Kind of.”

“Besides missing you?”

I scoff. “You didn’t miss me that much.”

She stares sharply at me. “Did you miss me?”

“You know I did.”

“And I missed you. I thought about you a lot,” she says, her words soft and tender, thawing a cold piece of me.

“So we were sad sacks, missing each other,” I tease.

“Maybe we were. I mean, look. It was hard, but I had to focus on school and so did you. We agreed to that, and I think we both did that. But I also didn’t ever stop thinking about you.”

Her admission kick-starts another part of my engine. I reach for a strand of her hair because it’s almost impossible to not touch her at a time like this. “Did you think about me when you drew blood?” I ask, in a pretend-sexy voice.

She laughs and responds in a smoky tone, “When I gave shots too.”

I wiggle my eyebrows as I run my fingers along that strand. “What about when you took temperatures?”

“All the time. Just like I’m sure you couldn’t stop thinking of me when you read case law.”

“Torts, baby. Images of you got me through torts.”

She laughs loudly.

I let go of her hair, and she nudges my waist with her elbow. “It’s good to be here with you. To show you stuff. Want to see the neighborhood?”

“I do.”

We spend the rest of the day wandering through this quieter section of the city as she catches me up on nursing school, doctors she worked with last year on the job, friends she made, and days she spent seeing her parents and her sister. I notice she doesn’t mention a boyfriend, or any guys for that matter. I can’t resist asking, even if it’s sticking my finger in the flame. Maybe I need to know if it’ll burn. “Did you date? See anyone?”

She shakes her head, and I relax slightly. “Not really, no,” she answers.

“Not really or no?”

“C’mon. They’re pretty much the same. The point is I didn’t really date. I didn’t meet anyone I fell for. Did you?” she asks, turning the question back on me as we round a street corner. “Some pretty legal eagle?”

My lips curve into a grin. “Not really. No.”

“Not really or no?”

“Holland, I didn’t meet anyone I fell for. That would be a logical impossibility.”

She lifts her hand and gently runs her fingers over my hair. “Good. I don’t like the thought of you falling for someone else.”

That’s one thing she won’t ever have to worry about.





20





Andrew



The next day I meet Kana at the park, and she guides me through streets I never knew existed. I try to swat away a nagging worry that after all this, after five thousand miles, I might leave with no more than I came with. What if there’s nothing at the teahouse, and all I learn is Ian liked to drink tea? No conclusive evidence. Case closed.

As we dart across a busy intersection, I make myself focus on Kana and what she’s saying about Tokyo. We turn onto a quieter road as she chats about how the city was built this way after the wars, with zigzag streets that crisscross haphazardly to make it tough for invaders to march straight through the town and seize it.

“The city itself was designed to protect its citizens,” I say.

She nods enthusiastically. “Such a smart strategy, but sometimes it backfires. I’ve lived here most of my life, and I can’t always find everything.”

“You seem to be doing a pretty good job,” I say as she points to a narrow alley to turn down.

At the end of a street that’s more like a narrow stone path, we reach a wrought-iron fence. Kana opens it, and I follow her into a small, fenced-in garden, then down a winding path, past trees and bushes. Behind the largest tree is a small teahouse, perched at the edge of a pond.

When we reach an ancient-looking door with traditional Japanese writing across the front, she whispers with reverence, “This is the Tatsuma Teahouse.”