“I don’t really know if stalking is the risk I want to take here.”
“Whatever. I don’t want you to spend five more years moping around this house because you’re waiting for life to happen to you. You aren’t stuck here, Annie. Some of us have obligations and people we need to take care of, but not you. Look at Uncle Don—he scored a hot purple-haired girlfriend. He doesn’t need you to look after him.”
“Fair point.”
“You’re in love with Drew, so go tell him that,” Chloe says, looking at me like she’s simply telling me to order a pizza.
I sit up straight. “I can’t be in love with him. I’ve only known him for two weeks.”
Chloe shakes her head at this minor detail. “A lot can happen in two weeks. How many rom-coms have you seen where people fall in love in one wacky, caper-filled night? Maybe it’s time you stopped waiting around for Tom Hanks to show up. Maybe this time you have to be your own Tom Hanks.”
I don’t entirely know what that means, but I do know that Chloe’s right. I’ve cocooned myself in this house, the one I shared with my parents, because I miss them so much and I’m surrounded by their memories. But would they want me to stay here forever, afraid to try something new? I’ll never know for sure, but I think Mom would want me to go for it. Nothing in my life will change unless I take some chances, like actually trying to find a job (hopefully with Tommy’s help) and moving away from the only home and city I’ve ever known.
But first, there’s something else I need to do.
“I have to go talk to Drew.” I pick up a pair of leggings off the floor. “I was an asshole. A huge asshole.”
“That’s a good line for your speech,” Chloe says. “Oh, my God, this is so exciting. I can hear the dramatic music swelling now! I’ll take Don and Tyler over to Nick’s for some coffee while you’re professing your undying love.”
“But you just made coffee.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Yeah, but . . . the coffee at Nick’s is much better.”
I narrow my eyes. “You sure you don’t just want to see Nick?”
She puts her hands on her hips. “Annie Cassidy, what exactly are you insinuating?”
“He’s going to find out you didn’t have a family emergency, you know.”
“It was a quick emergency,” she says, still eyeing me skeptically. “Go focus on your own love life and stay out of mine, okay?”
“Okay,” I singsong, not bothering to tell her that I’m writing an entire screenplay about her life. And anyway, focusing on her life is a lot better than focusing on mine, because when I think about what I’m going to do, I’m afraid I might barf.
“Okay, people!” Chloe says when we walk downstairs. I try to avoid noticing that Uncle Don has his arm around Tyler as they watch TV, because it’s so weird to see him in a romantic relationship. I mean, good weird, but still weird.
“We’re going to Nick’s to get coffee while Annie professes her love to Drew Danforth, star of screens large and small,” Chloe continues, pulling on her coat and winding her scarf around her neck.
Don stands up and pats me on the back. “Good for you, sweet pea. It’s always a good idea to tell people how you feel about them. I told Tyler how I felt about her while I was still in my Chewbacca costume.”
Tyler puts her arms around his midsection and beams up at him. “I had to ask him to repeat himself three times, but I was so happy once I heard him.”
“That costume really muffles everything,” Uncle Don says, looking at her as if I’m not even there. “Also, it doesn’t breathe at all.”
Chloe glances at me and raises her eyebrows. “Okay, guys, let’s get a move on.”
As they put their coats on, she whispers to me, “Before they start hard-core making out right here in front of us.”
Chloe, Don, and Tyler head off in one direction while I head off in the other, Chloe blowing kisses to me as I go. She tries to insist that I run toward the hotel because it’s more cinematic, but there’s still a lot of ice on the unshoveled sidewalk, so I elect to walk.
I try to practice what I’m going to say as my boots stomp through the now-smushed-and-gray snow.
I think I like you. Ugh, what am I, twelve?
I’m in love with you. Okay, let’s not come on too strong.
See, I found these letters from my mom that made me question whether love was even real and if the foundation I’d built my belief system on was full of lies, but then Uncle Don used a D&D metaphor as a way of convincing me that maybe love is real. Wow, way too much and kind of a bummer.
By the time I reach the hotel, I still don’t have any great speech in mind, but you know what? I bet Matthew McConaughey’s character didn’t have a speech planned out when he got on his motorcycle to catch Kate Hudson’s character on that bridge at the end of How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. And what he said was passionate and kinda profane, but it ended with a kiss and a slow camera pan-out, so I think it worked out okay for him.
I walk into the lobby, the sliding doors whooshing shut behind me, and realize I don’t even have a plan for finding Drew. What am I going to do, wander the halls calling his name?
“Annie?”
I turn to see Tarah, standing up from one of the lobby’s stylish sofas, next to a few decorative palm fronds that are trying but failing to convince us we’re not in Ohio in the middle of winter.
“Oh! Um, hey. How’s it going?” I stall, trying to come up with a reason I’m in the lobby of Drew’s hotel.
But she sees right through me. “You’re here for Drew?”
“Yes,” I say, the sound of his name filling me with hope.
She frowns, which on her still looks beautiful. “He left for the airport about an hour ago.”
“He . . . he did?” I try to form more words, but everything is crumbling. This was it—my chance to tell Drew how I really felt, my big speech. And now . . . it’s nothing.
“He seemed upset,” Tarah says. “Not that it’s any of my business, but . . . did something happen?”
“Uh, yeah,” I say. “Something happened.”
Tarah sits back down, and I sit down beside her, and that’s how I end up spilling my entire sad life story to a famous movie star right there in the lobby of a hotel.
“Wow.” Tarah leans back. “That’s a lot, but you know what? This is fixable.”
“How?” I ask. “He left.”
She shakes her head and pulls out her phone. “Drew and I were supposed to be on the same flight, but I switched to a later flight because . . .” She looks around, then whispers, “My husband came into town to surprise me, so we’re staying an extra night.”
As if on cue, the lobby doors swoosh open and a man who bears more than a passing resemblance to John Cho walks through the doors holding two bags of food. My breath is temporarily taken away.
“I couldn’t decide between burgers and Thai,” he says, holding up the bags. “So I got both.”
Tarah looks at me and smiles. “I know, I know. A cute guy who brings me multiple food options. I got lucky.”
She introduces us, and he heads up to their room. I assume she’s going to follow him, but then she holds out her phone. “This is his flight number.”