She lets out a small sigh. “I’m worried for Leo,” she says.
I know a bit about his family—that his parents went through a contentious divorce when he and Oliver were kids, that the two of them ended up raising each other, that any sort of family gathering has the potential to get ugly. I wonder if that’s part of the reason Leo is the way he is—always sunny, positive, trying to bring people together. Because he had to keep the peace between his parents for so many years.
“If anyone can bring a mood up, I think it’s Leo,” I say, wanting to comfort her.
“Yeah, but he shouldn’t have to,” she says. “Especially onhiswedding day.”
“I’ll step in,” I tell her. I love Leo, and I don’t want Stevie to have to worry about running interference on her day either. “Youdidmention the drop-off. Who’s going to find a body in those shark-infested waters?”
“That’s far too me a comment for you to be making,” she says wryly. Then, she shouts at the top of her lungs, “I just want to be married to him already!” She hoists her paddle over her head, words echoing against the trees.
“Words I never thought I’d hear you say.”
Stevie shrugs a shoulder as she lowers her arms. “We’re malleable creatures. Leo made me soft.”
“Yes, the first word that comes to mind when I think of you issoft.”
“Hey,” Stevie says. “I’m plenty soft. I’m romantic, even.”
“You’re right,” I say. “The girl who once told me that ‘love is a myth made up by lonely people’ is romantic.”
“Malleable,” Stevie repeats. “I didn’t know until I knew.”
We paddle for another minute before she asks, “What’s up with you and Ren?”
I glance over at her, too abruptly for it to be subtle. Stevie’s expression settles into her trademarkI told you so, and I face quickly forward.
Getting Stevie into her kayak and down the river momentarily may have distracted me, but I’ve been replaying the feeling of Ren grabbing my wrist all morning. The way he pulled me back to him. My leg pressed against his knee.
“Nothing,” I say to Stevie. “We’re just— We’re good.”
“You’re good,” Stevie repeats. I nod. “And what, exactly, does that mean?”
“It means,” I say, peering ahead to make sure Sasha hasn’t doubled back. She’s still far away. “It means that we’re both over whatever happened.” Whether that’s actually true, I don’t know, but I don’t want to have this conversation with Stevie before I have it with Ren. If we ever have it.
“Oh, right. I too like to do a lot of staring wordlessly at my estranged friend.”
“We’re not estranged,” I say.
“Youwere,” Stevie points out.
She might as well have scooped up cold river water and rained it down over my shoulders. Losing Ren had been like a hole punched clean through me, one I stuffed with work and distance and more work, because if I let myself feel the pain of it, I couldn’t breathe.
The memories of those first few weeks after press in on me. I flew back to New York with a throat raw from the perpetual lump in it, like I’d inhaled too much smoke. It was easy enough to throw myself back into my routine at Novo, but every now and again I’d have this shaky feeling run down my arms,the familiar beginnings of a panic attack, the ones IknewI should go see a therapist about but was actively ignoring, making it so I had to put down whatever delicate puppet I was working on until it dissipated.
For a while, it was just a matter of feeling the minutes tick by until my heart rate returned to a normal speed, reminding myself that I could go home and crawl into bed and cry or sleep at the end of the day. But work, art, eventually felt good, safe again, even if the rest of the world didn’t. I saw him everywhere else, in everyone I passed on the street: dark hair and flannel shirts, brown eyes and strong shoulders. I couldn’t listen to music without thinking about him, and so my world became quieter for a while. I wondered about him in every moment I couldn’t distract myself, if he hated me, if every time I almost called him he was doing the same, if he’d answer. If he wouldn’t. I wondered if he was fine without me, which hurt most of all, even if it was what I’d wanted. It hurt all the time, a physical pain stopping me short, and so I started to diligently shut him out of my brain.
Now Ren and I have been talking to each other again for all of two days, and despite all that, despite how painful I know it is to lose him, here I am, fantasizing about his goddamnhands.
I drag in a shaky breath and shove my thoughts as far down as they’ll go, smiling over at Stevie. “We’re friends for at least this week,” I say. “I’m not thinking about what happens after that.”
“Why not?” Stevie pushes her paddle off a rock jutting up in the middle of the river, glides around it before she’s next to me again.
I know she means Ren, but her question has me seizing up, worrying she knows. About my job, the fact that I don’t technically live anywhere anymore, that I have six months of savings, but that six months goes quickly if I don’t have an actual plan.
“It’s just—” I say, swallow over the achy feeling in my chest. “We don’t really know what things look like after this week.”
“You could, though.”
