“SORRY. I THINK YOU have the wrong house.” The woman who answered the door to Aerin’s condo Sunday night looks me dead in the eyes, but she’s lying.
I know because I went to Aerin’s brother’s apartment yesterday, hoping I could catch her before she left. She was already gone, but he invited me in.
I told him everything.
He scribbled her address on a piece of paper and told me to go get her. He also told me she’s one of the most stubborn, obstinate, and stuck-in-her-ways creatures I’ll ever meet and that anytime something scares her, she bolts faster than a gun-shy hunting dog.
“I know Aerin lives here.” I drag my hand along my jaw. “And I know she’s told you all about me. And I know how this looks … could you just … give her this for me? Please?”
I hand over the letter I wrote for her last night, and I head back to my rental car.
If she gets it and if she wants to talk, she’ll get a hold of me.
If not, then I’ll have no other choice but to let her go, but at least I’ll know that I tried, and that’s something I’ll never regret.
“WHO WAS THAT?” I carry a basket of clean clothes down the hall, passing through the living room. “I thought someone rang the doorbell a little bit ago?”
Margot rolls her eyes. “It was just some guy.”
“Margot … what do you mean some guy?”
“That one from New York.”
I laugh. She’s got the driest sense of humor and she’s always trying to get my goat. “Stop messing with me.”
“No, for real. Kind of tall. Broad shoulders. Dark hair. A Max-Minghella-Handmaid’s-Tale look about him.”
My grip on the laundry basket loosens and my throat tightens.
“He didn’t come here,” I say, as if the mere statement makes it so.
Dropping the basket of clothes at my feet, I run to the living room window.
“He’s gone now,” she says. “I told him you weren’t home.”
“Why would you do that?”
She slinks a shoulder to her ear. “I don’t know. Maybe because all you did the second you got home was complain about him? And how he was all wrong for you and how …”
“All right, all right. I know what I said.” I look out the window again, just in case he came back.
I can’t imagine he went through the trouble of flying three thousand miles just to get turned away by my roommate and go back home.
“Did he say where he was staying?” I ask. “Did he say anything?”
“Not really.” She saunters across the living room, grabbing a white envelope off the top of the TV stand. “But he left this for you.”
I snatch it out of her hands like the crazy person I am when it comes to these sorts of things, and I collapse into the sofa, clutching the single sheet of notebook paper like some gust of interior wind is going to blow it away.
Dear Aerin,
I know you’re scared. I am too. We can do this. Together. We can figure this out. Together. We could be happy. Together. You once told me we have to choose our regrets. Please don’t let this be one of yours.
Give us a chance.
Yours,
Calder
P.S. I dare you.
Dropping the letter, I retrieve a pair of sneakers from the shoe closet by the front door and haphazardly slide my feet into them, not so much as bothering with the laces.
“What are you doing?” Margot laughs. “Are you seriously going to chase after him? He’s probably halfway to Santa Monica by now.”
“No.” I point out the front window as a pair of headlights pull into our driveway and a familiar silhouette waits in the driver’s seat. “He came back.”
But I’d have chased after him anyway.
I dash out the door, taking the steps two at a time until I reach the landing. The driver’s door opens, and a moment later, Calder steps out.
He doesn’t run to me.
I don’t run to him.
This isn’t one of those moments like in the movies. This is so much bigger than that, only on the inside, somewhere only we know.
“Hi,” I say.
“Hi.”
He stands fifteen feet away, but I swear an entire universe could fit between us.
We begin heading toward one another, silently agreeing to meet in the middle, and when we get there, his hand goes for mine but he stops.
“How is this going to work, Calder?” I ask.
“I’m unloading WellesTech,” he says. “As soon as I find the right buyer. And then I’ll move out here.”
“But you love New York.”
“Doesn’t mean LA couldn’t grow on me,” he says. “I’d be willing to give it a chance. For the right reasons.”
I take a step closer, narrowing the space between us, my hands aching for his, my lips burning with anticipation. I’ve missed him so much it physically aches, and I didn’t even realize it until this moment.