And now I felt the wallop of unrequested emotion right on cue. I pretty much hovered two steps from tears at all times now and caved with the smallest nudge. Like now.
“Plans tonight?” I asked, blinking back tears. Think of something else and quick.
She got that starry-eyed look, and I remembered what that brand of excitement felt like. When your stomach did a little happy dance and you got goose bumps just thinking about seeing your person. I’d seen mine on the internet anchoring the Seattle evening news the night before, as much as I tried to avoid pulling it up. Apparently, I was a glutton for punishment, and watching Carrie speak to me and thousands of others through a camera lens was right up my alley. I wondered about a lot after that. How she liked the new station, what she thought of Seattle, and if she thought about me much. I fell asleep with tears falling sideways onto my pillow, leaving a wet spot, a heartbroken cliché I wasn’t proud of. But that’s who I was now.
“I do have plans.” Grace pulled me back from the memory. “I have a date with Bobby, as a matter of fact. We’re going to an escape room, just the two of us. They’re good at big picture problem solving, and I’m meticulous about puzzles. If we don’t make it out in time, we only have ourselves to blame.”
I sat back. “How are you guys this cute? I will need all the details of how you escape next time we chill.”
“Done.” She offered me a fist bump and slung her ridiculously overfilled backpack onto her shoulder, a reminder of her scholarly dedication. Grace was going to take over the world and make it better one day, all while playing the tuba. I loved that about her. She turned back. “If you ever want to talk or vent, just text, okay?”
I placed a hand on the back of her head and smoothed her beautiful dark hair with a new pink streak in front. “You are the sweetest kid. I will.” I followed her to the door of my apartment just as Sarah opened it.
“There they are. My two favorite cute people. Shower me with love, immediately.” Well, someone was in a cheerful mood today. I had a feeling this was her way of trying to prop me up. Sarah opened her arms, and we easily moved into them, one on each side. It sounded cheesy and strange, but in the midst of that group hug on a Saturday afternoon, I found a little bit of strength. The woman I loved was gone by choice, my mother was my mother, but there were people in my life who would lift me up, make me laugh, and see me through this thing.
Regardless of my broken heart and shattered expectations, time marched on, and the weeks rolled by until it had been many months since Carrie left. While the distance helped a little, not a lot changed. I tried not to think about her until I did. I focused on work until I forgot to. I wondered about dating again in the future until I realized I honestly had no interest.
“Did you see the write-up about Carrie in the trades,” Ty said as we shared lunch at a small sandwich shop a block from the station. Even though we weren’t out chasing stories together anymore, we made a point to hang out whenever we could, which was a lot.
I tossed my napkin onto the table, stuffed from my chicken salad sandwich with the killer pickles. “Nope. I don’t let myself think about her too much. That’s my new trick.”
“Oh, then I won’t go there either.” He held up his hands.
I squinted. “But you were going to say something about her.”
“Nope. I was gonna tell you about the mayo on your face, though. It’s a great look. You should keep it.”
I dabbed my face with a new napkin but couldn’t let go of the hint he’d dropped. “No. Say what you were going to say a minute ago. What was in the trades?”
“Just that her station has received a kick-ass ratings boost since she went on air. A real nice uptick.” He nodded around a bite of pastrami. “Not that it matters. Doesn’t. How’s your doggo?”
I exhaled slowly, absorbing the information. Carrie’s mission to Seattle had been a successful one after all. Well, good. I knew from our early calls that she’d been nervous about how she’d be received in the new market. Now she could relax and celebrate. I swallowed the predictable desire to celebrate with her, imagining what that would feel like. A couple of glasses of bubbly, some kissing, and a nice night out, during which we’d toast her. As for me, the ratings at KTMW had actually dipped when I’d taken over but had since rallied a little. Tam said it was all normal for a transition and to be patient as the viewers got to know me.
“Micky is a rascal who’s got a new stuffed celery stalk.” A pause. I could be big about this. “And I’m incredibly happy for Carrie. She’s a pro. We always knew that part.”
“It’s okay if you’re not. Doesn’t make you a bad person. You might just need extra Slurpees for a while, and that’s not so terrible.”
I shook my head. “I just hate the way it all happened. I still cry like an idiot, but I don’t wish anything bad for her.” I blinked, understanding how true the words were. “I just don’t know how we work anymore.” I scrunched up my nose. “That’s the hard part to accept. But slowly, I’m doing it.” I decided a topic shift was in order because Ty had his I’m-not-great-at-emotions look on his face. He had just offered me Slurpees to soothe my broken heart, after all. He was doing his best. I should let him off the hook. “And how’s your new reporter working out? What’s her name again? Tammy?” I full well knew her name. She’d started the week I’d made the big move, and from what I’d seen, she knew her stuff.
He nodded as he wolfed down the last bite of his huge sandwich. “She doesn’t sing with me in the car. Doesn’t dance in the car either. Kinda like you on your first day, but she hasn’t loosened up any. She’s okay, I guess.”
“Give her time. Maybe she just wants to get to know you before busting out car moves, you know?”
“I hope you’re right. If not, you gotta come back. Plain and simple.”
I laughed and gave his shoulder a slug as we exited the shop. “I miss you, too. Let’s do a dinner with Sandra some night. I won’t have a date because I’m woefully single and alone in life, but third-wheel status is good.”
“Sold. But it’s gotta be noodles, and I’m not kidding around about that,” he said with a level of excitement too large for its subject. “I’ve been thinking about noodles a lot.”
“Noodles it is, you weird person.”
“I’m not weird, turnip head. You are.”
“All right, meatball.”
So, I’d embrace the life I had in front of me, report the news, snuggle my dog, chat with my cousins, and look forward to noodles. So many people had it worse. I missed it, though, the blissful squeeze of my heart when I saw her or the way my breath caught when her eyes landed on mine. Since she’d been gone, I’d let my thumb hover over the call button more times than I should have, wanting to just hear her voice for a few moments. I never actually went through with it.