"Great," I whisper. "But she isn't calling me. I only have today off. Then we're in full-on camp mode again through the start of the regular season. Last game's an away game, so the day off is our travel day, and I talked with the team. They've given me your wedding off, but what if she leaves again?"
Dani looks at me and sets a hand on my back. "All right. I shouldn't tell you, but you deserve it, if only to talk with Whitney. She's at her Mom's place—she's staying there until things get settled for her and Laurie."
I nod, too overcome with emotion to form words for a few seconds. "Thank you, Dani. I guess I have been a burden on you."
She shakes her head and her arm slides around my waist. "If you were a burden, I'd never have told you anything, you know. You've been a good friend, and you deserve closure at least. I'd prefer if you find happiness, though."
Now calm again, we go back inside, and I say my goodbyes to Pete and Dani and promise again that I will be at their wedding. Getting in my car, I immediately head over to Ms. Nelson's house. It's funny, really. I call teammates and coaches who are nearly the same age as Ms. Nelson by their first name all the time, but to me, Patricia Nelson is always going to be Ms. Nelson.
Her house is nearly identical to what is was five years ago, although the brown paint on the trim looks fresher than it had been. I realize, sitting there, that of all the time I've been back in Silver Lake Falls, I've never driven down this street. It's like I've been avoiding it, even going out of my way to avoid the neighborhood. Swallowing, I park, and getting out, I feel a sense of deja vu. It's then that I realize I didn't park in front of the Nelson house, but instead a few doors down, and a very familiar set of planters is right there next to me. At least the red flowers have been replaced.
I walk on nearly numb legs to the door, hoping against hope that Whitney is there. Lorenzo, Laurie, Ms. Nelson . . . I don't care about them. Well, Laurie is cute, and she's a nice little girl, and I'd like to apologize to her about the crappy dinner she had last time, but it's Whitney I need to see.
My finger is shaking as I reach out and touch the button, and inside the house, the bell rings.
Please, let it be Whitney.
Chapter 15
Whitney
"No, Lorenzo, I don't think that's a good idea."
I'm talking on the phone, a conversation that I should have had with Lorenzo weeks, if not months earlier, but I was too moved by his care for Laurie to be more firm with him. It's my fault, really. I ended up stringing him along when I shouldn't have. "Yes, I understand that it puts the business at risk. Lorenzo, when I proposed this idea months ago, I thought about that. Of course not! You and I both know that I was always honest with you. I always told you after we broke up that I just don’t love you. I've tried to be as kind as I can about it, and I care for you, but only as a friend. I'm not going to be held hostage by that any longer."
Lorenzo unleashes a long string of liquid Italian in my ear, and I can tell he's either crying or half-drunk, or possibly both. “That doesn't matter. Yes, you care for Laurie, and she cares for you too. But I've made my decision. Laurie and I are permanently relocating to the United States, regardless of how you feel or how it effects our business. I hope you and I can continue to operate as business partners. You're a smart man, and I think you and I can make good money this way. But if your feelings are going to get in the way of that . . . then it's best we make a clean break before either of us gets more financially invested in what would be a doomed project."
Lorenzo's clearly crying now, and I feel a twinge of regret. I do care for him, even if it's not as he needs, and I don't want to hurt him. He goes off again in Italian, and I listen as peacefully as I can. "If that is your decision, Lorenzo, then so be it. I'll adjust my plans accordingly. Goodbye."
I hang up the phone as Lorenzo keeps yelling, putting the phone on silent before he can call back. I'm not going to be emotionally hijacked by a man, even if he does care for Laurie, especially after the way he went off outside the Cafe Italiano. I’m glad that Mom had taken her to the preschool at her church, which offers full daycare or partial daycare, at least until Laurie is ready to start elementary school next year.
Someone rings the doorbell, and I wonder who it is. Mom doesn't get deliveries often, she says, and it's just after eleven. Mom said she was going to go to work after dropping Laurie off, so it couldn't be her. She isn't supposed to be home until six or seven.
I get up from the couch and walk toward the front door, and when I'm about three feet from the painted white wood of the inside, I feel it, a tingle that starts at the base of my neck before becoming a hum that seems to wash through my entire body. Maybe I'm psychic, or maybe I just feel the magnetism, but I'm not surprised at all when I see Troy standing there, a nervous look on his face. "Whitney."