He grunted, shrugged, and turned his attention to laying a plastic tarp over the bouquets to protect the delicate flowers from the cooler overnight temperatures. Once finished, he said, “If you change your mind, I’ll just be inside the store,” and swung open the door, a jingle ringing brightly in the space between us.
I did a full turn in my spot, surveying the entirety of the street one more time, desperate for it to all be some kind of mistake. But no, the phone booth was gone. Really gone. The only evidence of it ever being here at all was the string of Christmas lights in a coiled mess on the ground. I picked them up and draped them over my shoulders like a scarf. I must’ve looked crazy, but I didn’t care. I closed my eyes and rubbed the colorful bulbs like Aladdin with his genie lamp, hoping for something, anything to happen. Still nothing.
My chest tightened as hot tears flooded my eyes. How the hell was I supposed to make my decision now? I needed the phone booth’s magic to reveal the final piece of its master plan for me. Dizzy at the culmination of my impending audition, Gabe’s proposal, and the general uncertainty of my future, my vision warbled like strobe lights and I backed myself up until my legs hit a set of concrete stairs. Plopping myself down on the stoop, I drew in long, deep breaths to slow my heart and wiped away the tears that were now falling freely down my cheeks.
I glanced back to the exposed wires where the booth once stood and could have sworn I saw the small flicker of a spark. Maybe that was a sign? My mind shot to Gabe, and the electricity I felt between us every time his lips were on mine. Finding a love like ours was as rare as getting struck by lightning . . . and we were lucky enough to get struck twice.
Gabe was my proverbial fork in the road, and we’d been given a chance to make different choices this time around. To live the life we were always supposed to. This was always about finding my way back to him. Wasn’t it? Or was the answer so painfully obvious that maybe I didn’t need the phone booth to tell me what to do?
But if that were true, then why did I come looking for it in the first place?
Chapter Thirty-Eight
I made it back to Bushwick a little after 11:00 p.m., and the girls were all squashed on the couch watching the British version of Love Island in the living room.
“Oh my God, Gemma, you can do better than that player, Colin,” Lyla yelled at the screen and continued to hand-feed her turtle, Sir Hank the Second, who was propped in her lap, one piece of popcorn at a time. “Can’t you see how much Angus loves you? Swap, dammit. Right, Hank?! She should swwaaaaappppp!”
“You shut your mouth! Colin is so freakin’ hot. I would take a bullet for that man. She should definitely not swap!” Sevyn rebutted with an almost comical level of intensity.
Oak, without missing a beat, rolled her eyes and said, “Well, clearly you aren’t the greatest judge of character, Mrs. Tinder Swindler.” Oak continued as she filed her nails at a violent pace, “She’ll swap if she knows what’s good for her. Colin and his abs have her completely fooled. She has absolutely no idea he’s been snogging Natalie this whole time.”
Sevyn grunted and tossed a handful of popcorn at the screen. “Stupid cow.”
Oak looked up at me from her fingers that were practically smoking from the friction of the file and said, “Do not tell Ass we started the new season without her!”
“Since Ass travels so much for work, we binge a lot of shows without her and then play dumb when she gets home.” Lyla extended her finger to point to every person in the room. “We all took the Netflix roommate oath and now that you’re a bona fide roommate, you have to take it too. Repeat after me, ‘I solemnly swear to fake all my reactions as if I were experiencing the show for the first time and never unintentionally reveal a spoiler.’”
I held up my right hand and stifled a giggle with the other. “I solemnly swear to fake all my reactions as if I were experiencing the show for the first time and never unintentionally reveal a spoiler.”
“Good. Now please, someone take that thing away from Oak, she’s gonna sand her fingers down to nubs if she keeps stress filing!” Lyla shouted from the farthest spot on the couch as I made my way into the room.
Oak gestured with the file to the box of wine tipped delicately over the kitchen sink. “Av, grab a glass and come sit and watch Love Island with us. It’s our very finest cardbordeaux.”
Sevyn added, “You’re gonna need more than just one glass to keep up with all this drama. Gemma’s about to make the biggest mistake . . .”
“OF . . . HER . . . LIFE!” the three of them hollered through bursts of laughter, as if they’d been practicing it all night. (Which I was certain they had.)
I poured myself a mugful of the red blend and settled onto the couch with them. I tucked my legs underneath me and gestured to the TV. “So, what’s happening here? I’ve never seen this show.”
Lyla rested Hank on the coffee table, grabbed the remote to hit the pause button, and turned to me, her face serious and focused. “Okay, on day one, the contestants couple up based on first impressions, but then later, they have the option to re-couple. Tonight’s a big night. Gemma needs to decide if she is going to stay with that wanker Colin, who’s been cheating on her with Natalie, or swap for Angus, who’s been pining for her since they got to the island.”
“The choice is so stupidly obvious,” Sevyn said.
I reeled around on her and snapped far more harshly than I’d intended, “Is it? Maybe she doesn’t know what to do. Maybe she’s conflicted even though the choice does seem stupidly obvious. Maybe she doesn’t want to choose, why can’t she just have both?”
Oak, confused by my question, tried to explain. “Well, ’cause she’s paired up with Colin. And you know, what’s that expression, ‘One in the hand beats two in the bush.’”
Sevyn, without missing a beat, chimed in, “True . . . unless she wants two in her bush!”
Oak paused her stress-filing to grab one of the decorative pillows and chuck it at Sevyn. “That’s not what that means!”
Over the sound of Sevyn snorting through her fits of laughter, Lyla rolled her eyes and said, “Ignore them. We pretty much lose our minds when we watch Love Island. And besides, she can’t choose both, the show doesn’t really work that way.”
I responded under my breath, perhaps more to myself than to her, “Well, it’d be so much easier if it did.”
Lyla narrowed her eyes and hit pause on the remote. “Avery, what’s going on? Are you okay?”
Hesitating for a moment, I set my mug of wine down on the coffee table and blurted out, “Gabe proposed to me tonight.”
“What?!” they all cried out in almost perfect unison.
Sevyn motioned to my left hand. “C’mon girl, let’s see that bling-bling.”
“No”—I shielded my hand, tucking it in the other, and rubbing my knuckles anxiously—“I didn’t take the bling-bling.”
“You didn’t take the bling-bling?!” Sevyn said, her eyes practically bulging out of her head.
Lyla parroted back with a justifiable amount of sass. “She didn’t take the bling-bling!”