When we head back inside, I make a pot of coffee, feed Cookie, and check my phone. The screen is covered in texts. The two on top are from José:
Can we talk?
PLEASE. I fucked up, and I’m so sorry.
I ignore his messages, scrolling down, and findCormac’s name.
Great news! I’m still not dead, and I only bear a slight resemblance to Frankenstein’s monster.
Also, my father knows about us. I’m sorry. I have even less of a filter while on pain medication.
He was pretty okay with it.
Although that might be because he’d convinced himself we were following him and your mom around in Apple Ridge because we thought they were senile. That possibility seemed to bother him more.
I think I get the anxiety from him.
Smiling, I text back:
Something new and different for you?
It’s okay. I told my mom about us too.
She only freaked out a little.
Then I ask what I really want to know:
Are you still going to San Francisco?
My phone starts ringing instantly. I run my finger over it, imagining that I’m touching him, then pick it up. “I’m answering this in your kitchen.”
“That should probably be creepy, but I’m glad. How’s Cookie?”
“Terrorizing the neighborhood as usual. Areyouokay?” My voice hitches halfway through the words. “You’re not going to lose any sight in your eye, are you?”
“You mean any more sight? No, I’ll only be half blind, asusual. But yeah, I’m still going to San Francisco. I’m supposed to fly out of Charlotte in two and a half hours.”
I suck in a breath, doing mental calculations. Two and a half hours. I won’t be able to see him, not unless I break the speed limit and he waits until the last possible second to board his plane. I won’t be able to talk to him in person.
I won’t be able to touch him and reassure myself that he’s okay.
Cookie bounds into the room, having apparently finished her breakfast. “But what about Cookie? And your bags?”
“I’m not worried about my stuff. I’ve already had a new pair of glasses express-shipped to Kenji’s place. But I was wondering…hoping…you might want to join me. I have to get out there today for a dinner meeting, but you and Cookie could fly out tomorrow, or later in the week. If you want to, of course.”
Oh God. I really fucking want to.
It would feel so nice, stepping away from all of my problems. Traveling to California with Cormac and Cookie. Going on vacation with him. Being out in public with him, just the two of us and Cookie, going to restaurants and the movies and sightseeing…
But I can’t do that right now. José and I have made a mess out of The Ginger Station, and it’s time to clean it up. Even if the thought kills me.
“I can’t. Not right now. I…there’s something I have to take care of here.”
“I understand,” he says. “I can make arrangements for Cookie.”
“I’d like to take care of her while you’re gone. I’dreallylike to.” I make the offer before thinking it through, but I don’t regret it.
“Will you stay at my house?” he asks, his voice going husky.
