34.
“A Boundless Moment”
—1923
I burst out the restaurant doors into the night without any idea of where I’m going. The air is crisp, and burns my lungs and fogs around me as I run. My heart pounds with the realization that I just gave up my scholarship. I just walked—no, ran—away from a chance I was about to be handed. That I’ve been working toward for as long as I can remember. I stood at the podium, and I made that choice.
And now I don’t know what comes next.
I can’t know, until I’ve walked the road I’ve chosen. I slow at the thought. I don’t have a plan, and there is no map for this. It’s terrifying, but there’s a spark of exhilaration that gives me hope that the choice I just made could turn out to be right, and this feels infinitely better than the weight of regret.
I hear a car behind me on the road, see it slow down as it passes, the driver none other than Debbie Monroe. She doesn’t stop or offer me a ride, but she’ll no doubt report to my mom the next time she sees her that I was walking the streets at night by myself in a dress not suited for the cold, and that maybe I should be better looked after. At the thought of my mom I feel bad. Not just about how shocked and panicked she must’ve been when I ran out, but about the things I said to her. I do regret those, and I know when I get home I’ll have to face the choices I made about that.
Up until tonight, I thought that making big choices took courage—more than I had. But what I realize, here, now, is that it’s not actually making the choice that takes courage. It’s facing it afterward. Owning up to it, whether it’s good or bad. I think of my mom and dad, and how even now they blame each other for the choices they made years ago. I think of Julianna and how she made a choice that she still hasn’t forgiven herself for, and of Josh, who never got the chance to make the one that mattered most.
And then there’s me.
I don’t want to be like any of them. I stop walking and look up at the stars shining clear and bright in the moonless sky, and I promise them I never will be.
Another set of headlights approaches from behind, stretching out my shadow in front of me. The engine slows to a near idle, and I can tell this car is going to pull over. Of course my mom is out looking for me after that. Okay then. I stop, take a deep breath, and turn around, ready.
When I do, I see Kat’s little red pickup. She pulls up right beside me and throws the passenger door open before I can reach for it. “Get in.”
I do, slamming the door behind me.
She turns down her music and looks me over in the light from the dash. “You’re insane. And you’re gonna be in the deepest shit of your life for pulling what you just did.”
“What? Were you—”
“The guys in the kitchen let me in the back so I could watch. I wasn’t gonna miss your big moment.” She shakes her head, almost laughing. “You looked scared shitless when you walked up there and stood behind that podium, but then once you started talking, you were like a whole different person. You shocked the hell out of everyone, P. God, I was proud of you.”
She smiles, but it’s gone in a second and worry creases her face. “But are you sure? I hope you didn’t do that because of the things I said about you leaving. Maybe they’ll still give it to you. Maybe they’ll be so impressed by your balls that they’ll—”
“I don’t want it,” I say. “And it’s not because of anything you said. It’s because of everything I said.”
Kat looks unconvinced. “But what are you gonna do?”
“I don’t know yet,” I say, glancing out the window. “Maybe figure out what I want to do?”
We sit quiet for a long moment before Kat turns in her seat so she’s facing me completely. “We should go to Kismet. There’s something you need to hear.” Her face is serious at first, but then a smile slides over it.
My stomach flutters. “What?”
“A love story,” Kat says, and she puts the truck in gear.
We push through the door, jangling the bells, and warmth and the smell of espresso envelop us. Kat grins and I look around suspiciously. The place is empty, but nothing seems amiss.
Just then Lane walks out from the back room, bleary-eyed and hair wild, like he just rolled out of bed. “Hey, ladies,” he croaks, sounding like it too.
Kat sidles up to the counter, still smiling, and leans on her elbows. “I need you to tell her what you told me.”
Lane glances at me, seeming confused. “That you should come back after I close up?”
I burst out laughing. “I didn’t know it was gonna be that kind of love story.”
Kat rolls her eyes, trying to hide a smile. “No, about Josh.”
Lane heaves a bag of coffee beans up on his shoulder and pours it into the grinder, then flips it on. “HE LEFT TOWN FOR A FEW DAYS,” he yells above the noise.
“WHAT? WHERE?”
He switches it off, and Kat gives him a nod to continue. “Tell her.”
“I don’t know. But I think it must’ve been some kind of emergency, because he got a phone call this morning, went all white, and then hung up and offered me double my pay to watch the place until he gets back. Round the clock.” He rubs his eyes. “Then he sat down at one of the tables and didn’t say anything for a long time. I was pretty sure somebody died, but he seemed so messed up about it I didn’t wanna ask.”
“He didn’t say where he was going?” A tiny hope flutters in my mind.
Lane shakes his head. “No. But then he did something kinda weird.” Kat grabs my arm and squeezes at this.
“What?” I ask. “What did he do?”
“He took one of the paintings off the wall,” Kat interrupts, no longer able to control herself.
I know before my eyes find the blank spot on the wall which one it is, and my heart pounds when I see that I’m right. “He took that painting with him? The one that was right there?”
“YES!” Kat yells.
Lane looks startled. Or slightly irritated. “Yeah, that one. Took it down and booked it outta here without looking back.”
“Oh my God,” I say, shaking my head. I almost don’t believe it, but it couldn’t be anything else. I laugh out loud and grab Kat’s hands.
“Now why would he do a thing like that?” Kat asks, doing the thinking man’s pose on the counter. “What do you think that could possibly mean?” The way she says it tells me she somehow knows what it could mean.
“I don’t—”
“I think it means you’re a shitty liar, P.”
“Why?” I ask, still trying to wrap my head around what it could really mean.
Kat looks me in the eye. “I know you found her,” she says. “I knew it was gonna be her as soon as I saw the paintings in that gallery. It was obvious the same person did them.”
Now I’m lost. “Then why’d you pick a fight and leave?”
“So I could tell Josh.”
Panic and my promise to Julianna zip through me on a wave of anger.
“I knew you wouldn’t want me to,” she says, looking apologetic. “Which is why I didn’t go through with it. And then when you showed up all depressed, without the journal, and it was obvious it didn’t go how you wanted, I was so frickin’ thankful I didn’t.”
I release the breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. “So you never told him? Anything?”
“No. It wasn’t my place. It was your thing.”
“Then . . .” My mind races ahead, connecting shiny, hopeful dots. “That phone call he got?”
Kat holds her hands out. “Had nothing to do with me.”
“Oh my God,” I whisper, picturing the moment Josh picked up the phone. “It had to be her.” I look at Kat. “Right?”
“Had to be.”
I can barely contain the soaring feeling within my chest. The thought of them together somewhere in the night makes everything seem right. Almost.
“I need a ride,” I say suddenly.
A wide smile breaks over Kat’s face, and she reaches into her purse for her keys. “I was wondering how long it would take you to say that.” She loops her arm through mine. “I bet there’s someone sitting at home right now, wondering the same thing.”
There is one light on in Trevor Collins’s house, and I hope with every last bit of me that it’s his.
“You want me to wait here?” Kat asks.
I take a deep breath. “No. If this all goes terribly wrong I’ll need the walk home anyway. If it goes right then, we’ll see.”
“That’s my girl. Now go get your boy.”
I open the door, step out into the crispness of the night, and try to breathe in courage. When I close it, Kat rolls down the window. “Carpe diem, P.” I nod, she gives me a thumbs-up, and then she’s gone. And I’m standing alone in my black dress, my hair messy from my impromptu run, about to ask the guy who’s given me a million chances for one more.
At the door I hesitate. It’s a reflex. A habit. One that comes from fear I don’t want to have anymore, so I force myself to knock. My heart pounds, but the house is silent. Then I hear something. Footsteps. And then the door opens, and Trevor’s right there looking surprised and confused, and I feel the same way, but I step into him before he can say anything.
I bring my lips to his fully, intentionally, their cold meeting his heat, in a kiss meant to tell him all the things I’ve been too afraid to say until right now. It takes him a second to catch up, but when he does his hands come to my face, then slide back into my hair, pulling me closer as he kisses me deeper, and all the times I’ve imagined this happening never came close to what I feel right now. I sink into it completely, letting everything else fall away so all that’s left is this. A moment like a poem.