“I miss you, too.”
I can hear the smile in her voice, and it loosens another bit of my tension. “Listen, are your foster parents going to insist on being old-fashioned about us?”
“Maybe. They know how things fell apart between us. They’re worried.”
Jesus. Protective parents. I’m grateful she has them, but I have zero experience dealing with them. My dates’ parents didn’t care since they were more concerned with my money—which is why I mentioned my plane to Ray, although he didn’t seem that impressed—and my parents… Well, they don’t exactly qualify for any conscientious caregiver awards.
“If they’re worried, they can always talk to me.”
“They just might.”
“Good.”
I’d love a chance to explain myself, let them know things aren’t going to be like before. Mentally I pencil that in on my calendar for tomorrow. Then I decide my weekend is empty. If it’s not empty, Rachael can make it empty.
“I’ll be there tomorrow to say hello.”
“And try to seduce me while you’re at it?”
“Sure, why not? Getting naked with you is my new purpose in life. If your folks happen to be in the same room, well…”
She chuckles. “Is that all you ever think about?”
“If I were to create a diagram of what’s in my head, you’d occupy ninety-five percent.”
“What’s taking up the other five?”
“Breathing. Eating. Occasional personal hygiene. Remembering how to tie my shoes.”
She laughs. “Please. Are you telling me only five percent of your brain was needed to make your fortune?”
I’m quiet for a moment. “You know about that?”
“Of course. I Googled you after…you know. That was pretty impressive.”
“Well…I didn’t know you then. So I was able to free up more of my brain. I’m lucky we didn’t meet until after I made my money. I wouldn’t be able to spoil you.”
“You don’t need money to spoil me, Lucas. All you need to bring is yourself.”
And just like that, she makes my heart so full it aches.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she murmurs.
I swallow the lump in my throat. I place a hand over my chest, wishing she were here so I could grasp her before she vanishes. “Good night, sweetheart.”
“Dream of me.”
“Always.”
Long after the line cuts off, I keep the phone to my ear so I can pretend we’re still connected.
* * *
Lucas
Harsh winds whip the grass, combing the field this way and that. The cliff juts over dark, churning water, and far beyond my right is an olive tree. Its branches are barren of fruit. What olives that fell, are all gone.
Black clouds move over the ocean, the briny air charged with electricity. My left leg aches as I brace the wind and march forward.