"At least once a week. I'm actually leaving for Chicago tomorrow. Part of the reason I offered to be the DD." She smiled, tilting her head. She was flirting with me, and I wasn't sure how I felt about it. She was pretty, definitely pretty. But would I ever feel that intense rush of feeling for another woman that I'd felt for Lily? I guessed not, especially if that had been purely in my own mind. It would be impossible to recreate a fantasy, I supposed. Maybe a reality check was exactly what I needed. Maybe spending time with someone like Jenna—someone inarguably real—was just what the doctor ordered, so to speak.
We drank our coffee and ate our donuts, not lacking for conversation, and it was pleasant. When Jenna's friends texted her, I walked her back across the street and waited for them to exit the bar. I decided no one would miss me if I didn't go back inside and say goodbye. They'd all be completely wasted by this point. They could call a limo. Jenna looked at me hopefully. "This turned into a far better night than I thought it would be," she said. Her expression moved from hopeful to expectant. The look that said I like you. I want to know more. Lily had looked at me like that. Deep breath, Ryan. Lily is . . . gone. And spending time with Jenna had felt . . . easy.
"For me, too." I smiled. "Can I call you, Jenna?"
She released a breath. "Absolutely. Here, let me give you my card." She pulled a white business card out of her small purse and handed it to me, biting her lower lip. "I really look forward to hearing from you, Ryan."
I smiled. "Good night." When I'd walked to the corner, I turned back once. Jenna was still standing on the sidewalk, watching me leave. I held up my hand and waved, and she waved back.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Lily
Are you a dream? Or maybe a . . . ghost?
Maybe. Yes, I think I might be.
I don't feel like my life is . . . real.
The words skittered through my mind as I stood staring at the small portion of the Golden Gate Bridge I could see from the window of the hospital. My eyes moved to a woman walking by, pushing a baby in a stroller on one of the garden paths below. Somewhere nearby, a car horn blared. Did I feel like my life was real now? Maybe. At least more so than it had been. Here, I could people watch, interact with others, walk in the grass . . . even go out now that I'd been given more freedom.
"You've gone to see him again, haven't you?"
I turned my head from the window to glance at my grandmother as she entered the room. I crossed my arms over my chest.
"He didn't see me," I murmured.
My grandmother sighed. "Lily, darling. He's doing well now. It's time to let him go. In fact, we need to talk about returning to Colorado. My lease on the house in Marin is up next month."
I turned from the window and moved quickly to the small sofa where she'd just sat down. I took her hands in mine. Ignoring her comment about the lease, I said, "That's just it, Grandma; he's doing so well. He's back at work. He seems to be . . . himself again."
My grandmother gave a short laugh. "Himself? Lily, you don't even know who that is. You have no idea. And he has no idea who you are either."
I shook my head, denying her words. "That's not true. I know him. I know who he is in here." I pulled one hand away and used it to tap against my chest. He’s in my heart. For some reason, the vision of those hands—fingertips just barely brushing—that had been carved into the rock in Colorado raced through my mind. Grasping for each other in the dark. I'd felt him. I'd known him.
My grandmother shook her head. "We've gone over this and over this. We agreed to move here temporarily while you were treated. We agreed to that. But you promised you'd let me be the one to check on him. And that we'd go home once your treatment was complete."
"I haven't broken that promise," I said, pulling my other hand free and leaning back on the sofa. I'd go home with her. First to the rental house and then to Colorado. But would I stay there? Could I bear it?
My grandma gave me a sympathetic look. "I understand, my love. I know exactly what you're feeling. I know how much it hurts. And that's the reason I won't let you involve yourself with Ryan Ellis again. I won't let you hurt him or hurt yourself. It isn't fair to him. If you love him, you'll let him go." She ran her hand over her short, coiffed hair. I wanted to cry because I knew in my heart she was right.
I bit at my lip. It was pointless arguing with her. And if I persisted, she'd just cry, and I didn't want to see her cry. I couldn't deal with her sadness—her disappointment—and my own pain. It'd been almost a year and I still felt desperately sad. She'd said it would end, and yet it hadn't. Not really. I worked so hard to stop the hurting. I pressed my lips together and stood. "I'm going out to get some coffee."
"You're going out?" she asked.
"Yes, to the coffee shop up the street." That was something I loved about being here in San Francisco. No matter what it was I wanted or needed, it was generally within fifteen minutes walking distance.
My grandmother jumped to her feet. "We could have coffee here. In the cafeteria."
"No, I need to get out." I was tired of being inside, tired of the smell of disinfectant. "And I'd really rather go alone."
She frowned. "Okay. Are you sure that's a good idea?"