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I narrow my eyes. “Did they put you up to this?”
“Come on, Mom. It makes more sense to live there.”
I gaze up at Chris, and the look in his eyes takes my breath away. The love that I see there is heart-stopping.
“Can we really live in London?” I ask.
“Babe,” he says, ducking down to press a kiss to my lips. “We can do both. If the South by Southwest thing works out, we could be here. If you want to be closer to Zoe, we can live there. My flat has a room we could clear out for your yoga, a recording studio for me, and best of all . . . no mushrooms in the bathroom. So, what do you say? Will you be my roommate again?”
Thirty-six hours later,I open the door of my Honda Accord and walk around the front, meeting Zoe and Chris on the curb of the airport.
Chris holds her bag, and Zoe opens her arms and wraps them around me. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay without me?” Zoe asks, and I laugh at the teasing tone.
“I’ll miss you a lot, but yes, I’ll be fine.”
When I release her, she turns to Chris and offers him a hug too. When she pulls back, she gazes up at Chris and then gives a dramatic shudder. “For god’s sake, grow your hair back out. It’s weird.”
“You cut it,” he says mildly.
“My greatest regret to date.”
We only had one full day together before Zoe had to fly back to catch her classes, but it was a good one. We took Zoe shopping for some of her favorite foods she can’t get in Munich and went out to eat at the vegan restaurant near her freshman year dorm that’s always been our comfort-food place.
Now, Zoe throws her arms around me one last time. “Okay, I’m going before Mom gets all sad. I’ll call when I get to Munich, I promise. Love you!” She calls the last over her shoulder as she walks into the terminal, barely giving the single tear that escapes a chance to fall.
Chris turns my face toward him and gently wipes the tear away. “You okay?”
I heave a big sigh and plant my face into his chest. Chris’s arms wrap around me.
We hug for about two seconds, and then the honk of a car farther down the drop-off gets us moving before someone honks at us.
While I drive us home, Chris stares out the window. I wonder what he’s thinking about. Is he missing the band? Worried about his future? Thinking about song lyrics?
Before I have the chance to ask, Chris speaks. “Texas is really fucking flat.”
I laugh, surprised. “Yeah, it is. Especially compared to the mountains we’ve been living in.”
Knowing his thoughts are of the inane variety relaxes me, and by the time we’ve pulled into my driveway, I’ve answered about a dozen questions about Austin, and we’ve bickered over the music choices.
But halfway through our battle for the playlist, Chris put his hand on my thigh and squeezed. The look on his face was enough to cause me to stumble over my words.
No matter where we live, no matter what kind of music we listen to, I’m excited for my future with Chris.
Epilogue
Sara
Three months later...
The caféin Notting Hill is small and cozy, local art hanging on the walls and the pungent smell of coffee permeating the air, along with Jade’s whining.
“Two months and twelve presentations with him! We have to travel together, stay in hotels together, eat meals together. If I end up dead, Carlos is the first suspect.”
Jade just found out that her company wants her to go on tour giving presentations about the product she’s been working on. And they want Carlos to accompany her to handle the marketing side of it: setting up booths and brochures, organizing private meetings, and translating her presentation.
She points her finger at each of us. “I’ll make sure you have his contact information so you can hunt him down and avenge my death.”
Emma, Tessa, and I look at each other. “I think out of our group,” Tessa says, “the one most likely to get away with murder is probably you.”
