Sophie and her husband, Miguel, met me at Sky Harbor International Airport. I’d left Boston before the sun was up and it chased us all the way across the country, catching up and passing us before we landed. It was midday when I stepped off the plane, wearing my thick knee-length wool coat and stylish black leather boots. Within minutes, I was sweating. It was glorious.
When I passed the security checkpoint, I spotted Sophie immediately. She is blond and blue-eyed, petite but muscled in the way only a former cheerleader who was always on the top of the human pyramid could be. She bounced on her toes, scanning the crowd, and I thought she’d leap into an air split when she saw me. I was not completely wrong. She began to jump and clap and then she ran at me. I had only a second to brace myself for impact.
“You’re here, you’re really here,” she cried as she locked me in a hug that strangled.
I laughed and hugged her back, feeling the rightness of my decision to come here sweep through me. It had been years since Sophie and I had lived in the same city. No matter how this turned out, it was going to be great to spend time with my best friend again.
“Babe, you’re going to choke her out.” Miguel chuckled from behind us.
Sophie let me go and stepped back to study my face, making sure I was still breathing.
“Hi, Annabelle,” Miguel said. He reached over his diminutive wife and hugged me.
Miguel was the poster boy for tall, dark, and handsome. He was Phoenix born and bred with a large family who had embraced Sophie as one of their own. The two of them had met during a post-college internship at a graphic design firm in Los Angeles. He’d asked Sophie to marry him within three months of their first date, and she’d said yes and moved to Phoenix to be with him. They’d been together ever since, building their business and their life together. They were relationship goals for me.
“Hi, Miguel,” I said. He was a few inches taller than me and a good hugger. Strong and solid, with an affectionate pat on the back that let you know he really liked you.
He took my carry-on and led the way down to baggage claim. Sophie looped her arm through mine and pulled me close as if she was afraid I’d get away.
“So how was the flight?” she asked.
I laughed. “That’s not what you want to know.”
She blinked at me. “I’m trying to be mature and ease into the good stuff.”
“Please, this is me,” I said. “No easing required. You want to know if I’ve talked to Jeremy since having his ring returned via a messenger.”
“Don’t assume I only want the gossip,” she said. She emphasized the first syllable of the word.
“I see what you did there,” I said. I sent her a mock scowl.
“Cheeky, isn’t she?” Miguel asked. There was a wicked twinkle in his eye.
“Okay, get all your butt jokes out now,” I said.
“I think the moment has passed,” Sophie retorted.
“Much like the ring,” Miguel quipped.
They exchanged a super-annoying high five.
“Remind me again why I agreed to come work for you two nerds,” I said.
“Because you’re fleeing the shitstorm you made out of your life,” Sophie said. She blinked at me. “Oops, I did it again.”
I sighed. “I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I?”
“Oh, I’m sure we’ll stop making cracks about it.” Sophie paused to snort. “In a year or two.”
“Why, oh why, did I buy a one-way ticket?” I asked no one in particular.
“Come on, now,” Sophie said. “Look on the bright side, you don’t have any exes here.”
“Your past has been wiped clean,” Miguel chimed in. They both cracked up.
I rolled my eyes. This was the problem with good friends—they knew all of your damage and were not afraid to abuse you with it. Repeatedly.
I followed the laughing idiots down the escalator to baggage. While we stood by the carousel, waiting with the other passengers from my flight, Sophie described the place they’d found for me to live. We’d arranged it while I was still in Boston, and I’d signed the rental agreement and paid first and last months’ rent and a security deposit.
“Nick Daire, your new landlord, was a member of Miguel’s entrepreneur group before he, well, retired. Your place is a sweet little guest house on his property that he is happy to rent out to you for six months while you decide if Phoenix is the perfect fit for you—which it is,” Sophie said.
Miguel made a pained face and I studied him, trying to figure out what that meant. Was his look of doubt about Mr. Daire or me?
“I take it ‘happy’ isn’t exactly the word to describe how he feels about leasing his guest house?” I asked, trying to gauge what he was thinking.
Miguel shrugged. “He offered so we accepted.”
I got the distinct impression there was much more to this than he was telling me, but I decided to see the place before I panicked.
“Rents in Phoenix, while not as bad as Boston, are insane,” Sophie said. “This place is perfect because it’s right down the street from the office. You won’t even need a car.”
That seemed promising. My bags appeared, and Miguel hauled them off the carousel. I had three big rollers so we each took one and headed for the parking garage. As soon as we stepped outside, I felt the desert warmth engulf me. I had a feeling I’d be packing my winter coat away for the duration of my stay. Not a hardship.
As we drove out of the garage, the midday sun—bright beautiful sun!—was blinding, and I dove into my handbag for my sunglasses. We were in their SUV, and I had taken the back seat. Sophie turned around to face me, pointing out the features of the area—Camelback Mountain, which really did look like a camel lying down; Tovrea Castle, a crazy wedding cake–looking building that some guy had built for his wife; and Tempe Town Lake, yes, an actual man-made lake in the middle of the city—as we cruised toward our destination.
I’d been to the desert only once before, for their wedding, and while I remembered being awed by the red mountain vistas and humungous saguaro cacti, I’d mostly been in a frenzy of wedding prep, which meant a lot of spa time and poolside margaritas, so my memories were shrouded in a lime-infused tequila haze.
We drove through the sprawling city, passed tall apartment buildings, offices, and restaurants. I gawked at the bushes and trees and planters overflowing with blossoms, some of which I recognized, such as petunias and pansies, and others I did not. How long had it been since I’d seen a flower blooming? Months. It made my heart sing.
“How about some dinner before we get you settled into your new place?” Soph asked. “There’s a great Mexican food joint in the neighborhood, unless you’d rather I make you a home-cooked meal—”