Love and Relativity (32 page)

Exactly how I’d preferred to remember it.

When we arrived at curbside check-in at the airport, it was my mom’s turn to cry. She squeezed me so tight I was sure I’d burst all over the pavement there, and some poor janitor would have to come mop up the mess. She smothered me in kisses and cleaning tips for my new place—as if I needed them—and sent us on our way, pulling on her big black sunglasses as she buckled her seatbelt. All that was missing was a black widow’s veil. She drove away with a limp wave, leaving me feeling even closer to my new destination.

“Ready to do this, kids?” Carter asked, gripping his and Whitney’s suitcase handles.

“Let’s do it,” I said, wheeling my suitcase behind me as I led the way through the sliding glass doors.

I toyed with Ms. Velma’s gift while we waited at our gate: her favorite Robert Frost collection, the one I used to read to her when she was feeling especially grumpy. Which was...well, every day. My gift to her was the romance paperback Jackson had surprised me with, the one that had given him courage to confess his feelings for me. I’d hoped the old paperback would give something just as special to Miss Velma. Smiling as I skimmed my fingers over the Robert Frost collection, I barely heard Whitney and Carter excuse themselves to make a coffee run.

When they got back, their body language was exactly opposite of what it had been all day: stiff, closed off, and full of agitation. Whitney’s arms were crossed and she was cursing under her breath, her cheeks red. She stalked away from Carter, deliberately sitting to my left, leaving me in the middle of her and Carter.

I shut my book.

“Uh...is everything okay?” I asked, eyes sliding back and forth between them.

“Peachy fucking keen,” she spat.

“Everything’s great,” Carter murmured.

“Ooookay...”

“Just don’t make me sit next to
him
on the damn plane.” Whitney jutted her chin toward her boyfriend, her shoulder and neck muscles clenching.

“Whit? What are you so mad about?”

Carter leaned in to me, speaking quietly. “Don’t worry about it, just let her stew.”

“Stew?” I whispered, eyeing her curiously. “She’s fuming. What did you do to her?”

“It’s what he
didn’t
do,” she seethed, leaning over me to glare at Carter. “Just you wait until we land, so help me God—”

“Oh, bloody hell.” Carter’s palm met his forehead, his fingers wrapping around the brim of his glasses. “This is going to be a really long flight.”

“Will someone tell me what’s going on?”

Whitney scoffed. Carter groaned.

I sighed.

I didn’t hear another peep from them until we boarded the plane. Whitney kept bumping into him, taking out her frustration with elbow jabs and hip punches, and he just shook his head and grumbled, shoving her carry-on in the overhead compartment.

Our smooth take-off sent us up and into the clouds, a dreamy view of the Gulf of Mexico leaving me with a final glimpse of the tropical place I no longer called home. Somehow, I managed to drift into a heavy sleep, waking to Whitney’s little-girl squeals in my ear. She was tugging on my shoulder, her face plastered to the window.

“What is it?” I asked, voice groggy.

“Would you look at that? God, it’s so beautiful! I never thought I’d see a hill, let alone a freaking
mountain
!” Her smile lit up like she hit the jackpot, her fingertips gripping the bottom of the window.

“It’s Mount Rainier,” Carter leaned over me to peek out, smiling himself when he spotted her face-splitting grin.

For a second, she seemed to forget her anger with him. “It’s so majestic....so breathtaking...so, oh my God, Carter, why the hell did you move to Florida when you had
this
?!”

“Haha, it’s pretty amazing, right?”

“Amazing doesn’t even begin to describe it.” I straightened and stretched, letting my chin fall on Whit’s shoulder, just as mesmerized by the sight. The sun was going down, the sky was clear, and the snow-capped mountain was begging for someone to reach out and touch it, just to confirm it was real and not some angelic vision on an artist’s canvas.

Landing was followed by a quick trip to baggage claim and a race to the rental car counter, where Carter assured us it was better than taking the Light Rail into the city, citing our large suitcases as reasons for avoiding public transit. Once the trunk was filled to the brim and we were warm and cozy in our compact, I was glad he’d insisted on the rental car. All I wanted to do was sit there and watch the lights and life of the city I’d waited so long to visit pass me by without having to worry about stops and lugging baggage on and off a train.

I watched through the window, gawking like a true tourist when the Space Needle, all lit up and surreal, appeared on the left. My stomach fluttered with excitement, wondering what everything would look like in the daylight. I was sure that seeing the mountainous backdrop and rugged terrain in postcards was nothing compared to seeing it all in person, and suddenly, I couldn’t wait to get to my new apartment and fall asleep, just so the morning would hurry up and get here.

We continued to whiz down the interstate and into the heart of the city, the cool night air filling the car as we drove with the windows down.

“Here we are, kids,” Carter announced, turning on his blinker to pull into a parking garage. I’d been so enamored with the sounds of cutthroat city traffic and the barrage of scents that ambushed my senses that I hadn’t paid a single ounce of attention to which street we were turning on. “Thank God this place has an elevator.”

“It’s 8 p.m. and we haven’t eaten in over six hours,” Whitney said, stepping out of the car to stretch her legs and yawn. “Can we grab some dinner once we get our bags upstairs, guys?”

“Works for me,” I said. “You know any good places around here, Carter?”

Carter let out a faux haughty laugh and a pretentious, throaty tone, pretending to adjust a bowtie and top hat. “Do I know any good places?
Please
. I run this town. Be prepared to be dazzled.”

“Shit, babe, I’m not talking five stars over here. Cheap eats, please?” Whitney’s eyebrows rose and she yanked her bag from the trunk.

Carter’s normal voice returned. “I’m taking you to a pizza shack no bigger than my ass. Don’t worry.”

A pleased grin lit up Whitney’s face, before suddenly remembering she hated him, her nose scrunching. She snatched her backpack from him when he offered to carry it, and I laughed, giving up trying to understand their irrational bickering. I’d pry it out of her later, when we were alone and when she wasn’t acting like a 12-year-old.

Slipping the key into my new place felt just as surreal as seeing the city for the first time from the car window, filling me with all sorts of emotions, some of which I didn’t care to label just yet. If I labeled them, it meant I’d have to deal with them, and well, I just wasn’t ready for that yet. All I knew was I was elated, thrilled, and aching all at the same time. Visions of my mom, Jen, Jackson, and even Chris flashed through my mind, stirring up more feeling I didn’t know what to do with.

Shoving my bags down on the empty living room floor, I voted to channel that feeling into hunger and the need to see this pizza place Carter had been talking about.

“Okay, we need to eat. Let’s roll.”

“Wait, Em!” Whitney skipped around the tiny apartment, stopping at the window to peer down into the street. “Don’t you want to take a second to let it all sink in? You’re finally here! Look how cute this place is.”

“Yay!” I squealed for her benefit. “Okay, dinner time. Let’s go.” I grabbed her hand and towed her out the door, with Carter on our heels. The truth was, it really
was
a great place. Just what I’d dreamt about for...well, what seemed like forever now. It was lived in, not too big, and it needed some work, but the location was perfect, the rent wouldn’t kill me, and I’d be close to Carter’s old apartment, which somehow made the neighborhood feel familiar.

Only it was missing something.

“I can’t wait to meet your old roommate,” I said to Carter, breaking my train of thought. We made our way downstairs and outside, onto the bustling city street. “You said he’ll be at the wedding tomorrow, right?”

Carter chuckled, rubbing his lip ring. “Oh yeah, you’ll be meeting Dean, alright. Two minutes with him and you’ll be ready to hightail it out of there, though.”

“Is he really that bad? I thought you guys were like
...
”
Like Jackson and Ruben used to be.
“Like, two peas in a pod and all that.”

“We were.” He smiled. “Still are. I definitely miss the crazy bastard, but he can really drive me up a damn wall sometimes.”

“It sounds like he keeps things interesting.”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

We arrived at the pizza place, which was really just a shoebox with a counter, nestled next to a vintage bookstore. Whitney still didn’t say much to Carter as we ate, slipping him snide glances every few minutes, instead choosing to talk to me about how much she loved the weather and ideas for decorating my apartment. Every now and then she’d look as if she were slipping off in thought, and Carter seemed to block her out all together, more concerned with texting on his cell phone.

“Sorry,” he mumbled when he caught me staring. His paper plate was clean, only a stain of grease remaining, soaking the surface. “Just catching up with everyone to let them know I’m in town. My phone is blowing up.”

“No worries.” I stood and slipped my messenger bag over my head. “I think I’m gonna head back and crash. You guys can wander around some more if you want—”

“No!” They both chirped in unison, a little too quickly.

“Uh,” Whitney’s head snapped to Carter’s. “I mean, we’re heading back, too, right Carter?”

“Yeah, yeah, right. Let’s go.” He slid off his stool and shoved his phone in his pocket, turning to lead the way. More hushed—and on Whitney’s part, passionate—whispers passed between the two of them as they strolled side by side in front of me. I lingered behind, breathing in the cool air and taking in the sights.

It didn’t take me long to realize we were headed in a different direction. “This isn’t the way back to my place, is it?”

Carter and Whitney slowed to a stop, pausing in front of a cozy shop, a low-lit, hand-painted sign hanging above our heads. It was a familiar shade of blue, with white lettering scrawled across it.

“No, it’s not,” Carter said, glancing at Whitney. She smiled and looked down at her shoes. “But you might want to check out this shop before you head home. I think you’d like it inside.”

I zipped up my hoodie, looking between the glass door and my friends. My brows pulled down. “Um...okay, can we check this out tomorrow? I’m so tired and I just really want to go back—”

“You should go in, Em.” Whitney’s voice was solemn. Her gaze lifted and locked on mine.

Carter stepped forward to tap my elbow. “I keep my promises,” he said softly, his eyes rolling to the store sign above our heads. He adjusted his glasses and took Whitney’s hand. “We’ll see you back at your place. We have the other key.”

The crease in my forehead deepened as I watched them walk away, and my eyes darted between the two of them ahead of me, the glass door to my left, and the sign above. I opened my mouth to call out to them but stopped, as my focus halted on the sign. Stepping underneath the small funnel of light from the dim overhead bulbs, I squinted to read the white lettering.
Sara’s Sales and Service.
A tiny sailboat design was carved beneath the words.

My heart stalled.

A prickle sprang up on the back of my neck, a strange tingling calling my attention to the glass door. I shifted, and the air left my lungs. All feeling in my limbs was gone, only the tickling on my neck reminding me I was still conscious, still receptive. Some part of my brain told me to move, jerking my hand forward and causing it to latch onto the doorknob. There was a jingling sound of a bell as the door opened, and then my feet were carrying me past the store’s threshold. My gaze landed on an attractive build—less tan than I remembered.

Then his voice came. “Sorry, but we’re closing in five minutes and—” A can of paint dropped, and shimmering ice blue eyes stared back at me, two lips that had given me so much pleasure parting in surprise.

My own jaw fell slack, and my eyes slowly pulled away from the set of baby blues to survey my surroundings. Wooden shelves lined the brick walls, filled with mechanical odds and ends, tools, and then on one side of the store, a showcase of framed sailboat designs. Each frame sported a price in subtle, elegant script, and binders were positioned next to each one. Dried paint filled my nostrils, and the low hum of a radio buzzed in my ears.

Finally, I found my words. “Oh my...”

“Pumpkin.”

“What are you...”

“You’re here.” Another can of paint dropped from his hands and he winced, taking a cautious step to the left, around the register.

I mirrored his steps, inching closer, my hands moving to the strap of my messenger bag, fingers locking around it in a death grip. “Jack,” I breathed, “you’re...you’re in Seattle.”