Unbreak My Heart(6)

She jerks her gaze to the window. A bird chirps outside.

I grab a light-blue tie with . . . cartoon giraffes on it? “Why do I have this?”

She cocks her head as I hang up that one. “Did you buy it for me?”

She drops her chin to the floor. Guilty as charged.

I find a navy-blue tie. “There. I’ll blend in. It’s perfect, right?”

Her tail thumps.

I button a shirt and drape the tie around my neck.

I hold my arms out wide. “You’d totally hire me if you needed someone to make your case, right? Of course you would. You’d want a pit bull for a lawyer.” I play-growl at my brother’s dog.

She play-growls back.

My doorbell rings, and Sandy erupts into a flurry of barks then rushes downstairs. I follow her, picking up the pace, feeling something. Her excitement is infectious. I don’t bark, but if I had a tail, I’d wag it when I peer through the peephole and see who’s here. Holland.

The gears whir to life. The cogs in the machine start turning.

I open the door, and she sports a most mischievous grin.

“The first rule of Pie Club is—”

I smile. “Don’t tell anyone about Pie Club.”

She brings a white box from behind her back then hands it to me. “Rum chiffon.”

I laugh. It’s the first time I’ve laughed in days. “I didn’t even know rum chiffon pie was a thing.”

“Totally a thing. And a better thing than prune chiffon pie. Did you know the One and Only Pie Shop makes prune chiffon?” She crinkles her nose.

“On the scale of retro pies I find acceptable, that’d be a zero.”

“I know,” she says, then taps her fingernail against the cardboard. “But rum has to be tasty.”

“Should I get drunk on it before the speech at the reception?”

“All speeches are best delivered intoxicated,” she says, then eyes the home behind me. She knows it well, not only from the summer we spent together, but from the years we were friends before we were anything else.

“Come in.” I take the pie and head to the kitchen.

“I saw you have a rental car in the driveway. Where’s yours?”

“It’s kind of a funny story,” I deadpan. Then I give her the barest overview of the other day.

She blows out a long stream of air. “Then it’s a damn good thing I brought pie.”

That’s another reason why this woman owns prime real estate in my mind—she doesn’t judge me.

“I promise not to smash the pie.” I grab two forks and set them next to the box of pie.

She taps me on the shoulder. I turn around, surprised to see her inches away. “Hey.”

My heart speeds up. I wish she wouldn’t hey me. I wish she’d hey me all day long. “Hey.”

Then, the slow-mo begins. She opens her arms, steps closer, wraps those toned, strong limbs around me.

I sigh louder than I should.

I want to bury my face in that blonde hair and get lost for the day, for the week, for the summer. She’s so warm, and I don’t want to let her go. Not when her embrace feels like the solution to world peace. To my peace.

She whispers against my shoulder, “How are you doing today?”

“Fine. I didn’t go to the ceremony.” I hum a little as I sneak an inhale of her shampoo. Citrusy, like the rest of her.

“I know.”

“I watched it on social media.”

“Do you wish you’d gone?” She lets her arms drop, and we separate.

I shake my head. “Hell, no.”

“Do you want company at the dean’s reception?”

So much.

“Nah, I’ll be okay,” I lie. I can’t keep sucking up all her sympathy. Kate offered to attend too, and I turned her down. Why make it a bigger deal than it is? It’s a stupid reception I was going to attend with Ian.

Now, I’m going solo.

“Are you sure?” Holland stares at me like she can extract the truth with her big eyes.

I could take her up on it, but I’d spend the whole time thinking about her naked.

“Thanks. But I’ll manage. How hard can it be, right? Say a few words, eat some shrimp and salad, and then I’ll be back here, lounging poolside with a pi?a colada,” I say with a casual shrug, like I can handle this. No problem.

“Pi?a coladas are always a good idea.” She glances around, and I try to see my home through her eyes. Undisturbed. I cleaned up everything from the party last night, and nothing else has changed from when she was here a month ago, helping my brother through the end as his de facto hospice nurse.

Back then, it was Kate, Trina, Jeremy, Holland, and Omar from Three Martians Pizza, delivering food and chatting with Ian about the Dodgers’ prospects so far this season.

Now, it’s only Holland and me, alone in the house.

I could pull the blinds and watch movies on the couch with her all day. We could hole up here and never leave, just Holland and the dog and me. Order Chinese takeout from Captain Wong’s around the corner for every meal, and have them grab some kibble for Sandy.

But I remember some of my brother’s last words about Holland. “I know you want her back. But take your time. If you go for it now, you’ll lose her again.”