“You’re a flight attendant?” Jim asks. “What places have you traveled to?”
“Everywhere.” I can’t hide my smile. “I’ve seen almost every major city in the United States. Been to Paris, Rome, Munich, and London so many times that I have friends in each city. I walked the Great Wall of China and rode an elephant in Thailand. Scuba diving in the Great Barrier Reef was a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and even watching the sunset in Fiji was heavenly.”
“Did you see the Northern Lights?” Zack asks, and a chill runs through my chest.
That was the trip we planned on taking together someday. Problem was, I didn’t want to wait for someday. I needed right now.
“No,” I say honestly. “That’s still on the bucket list.”
Something in his eyes softens.
I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought of Zack often over the years. Did he take over his father’s business or get married and have four kids?
I rake my eyes over his hand and note there’s no wedding ring. A calm settles over me, and I’m not entirely sure why I feel relieved he’s not married. Our plane has long departed the terminal and taken off, if you will.
Speaking of …
“Did your flight get canceled tonight?” I ask him.
“I just landed.”
His small duffel bag he stuffed at his feet notes it wasn’t a long trip.
“Anywhere exciting?”
“No,” he says, and I get the hint.
Jim laughs from the front seat. “You two are better than a soap opera.”
While Jim’s enthusiasm is comical, I can tell it’s bothering Zack. He never was one for attention. That was always me.
We’d go to parties, and he’d sit on the couch, chatting with friends, while I danced and told jokes to everyone in the room. He never seemed to mind.
In fact, I adored the way he always seemed to be looking my way at the same time I turned toward his. He’d wink, and I’d smile back. It was our way of checking in to let the other know we were good. If he raised his brows, it meant the person he was talking to was being annoying, and if he just stared at me with these deadpan, wide eyes, it meant, Get me out of here right now.
No matter what, we always had each other’s backs.
I guess you can have that kind of chemistry when you’ve known someone since you were a little kid.
Crazy to think, now, I know nothing about the man sitting next to me. When I last saw him, he was still a teen. I wonder how life has played out for him.
“How’s your dad?” I ask.
His chest lowers as he minutely shakes his head. His fingers tap on the handle he’s still holding. “His Parkinson’s has taken a lot of his mobility, but he’s still at it, working in the shop every day.”
“With you by his side,” I add. That was a huge part of Zack wanting to stay. “He’s lucky to have you. I always liked your father. He’s a good man.”
“He is,” he says and then runs his other hand along his thigh, slouching slightly in his seat. His chest puffs out as his eyes dart across the seat in front of him, and he clenches his jaw. “What are you doing in San Francisco?”
“My flight was canceled, and I don’t have another one until tomorrow.”
“Doesn’t the airline put you up close by?”
“That they do,” I say with light sarcasm. “But there’s someone I’m avoiding, and I couldn’t get a room at another airport hotel, so I’m on my way to Monica’s house.”
“You still talk to her?”
“Of course I’ve stayed in contact with her.”
Besides him, she was my person growing up.
His mouth rises into a small smile. “How is she?”
“She’s an art curator in the city. Married with a little boy. She’s living her best life.”
“I saw her about two years ago. She came home for the holidays. She seemed good. Didn’t mention she still talks to you.”
“She knows I’m a sore spot, I’m sure. She didn’t mention she ran into you either.” I bite my lip and wonder why my best friend didn’t tell me she had seen my ex. “Anyway, I’m on my way to her place. What about you? Staying in the city tonight?”
“I’m late actually. My flight was supposed to land hours ago. Damn fog had us circling until they could land us.”
“You’re lucky you took off at all.”
“Then, I would have missed the opportunity to be in this car with you.”
I don’t miss the blatant rudeness in his voice.
“Is there someone waiting for you?” I ask as nicely as possible.
His eyes narrow as he assesses my demeanor. “Yeah. Stella’s been waiting on me for a while now.”
I nod my head and take a deep breath through my plastered-on smile. He has a Stella.
“The years have been good then?” I ask.
“They’ve been … unexpected.” He lowers his arm from the handle and turns to face me fully. He cocks his head. “What about you, Jolene? How have the years treated you?”
“Traveling the world. Living out of a suitcase. It’s glamorous.”
“Where’s home?”
Home. I haven’t thought of that in a long time. “New York.”
“You hesitated.”
“I have an apartment in New York, but it’s more of a crash pad. Just the necessities—a bed and a coffeemaker are all I need.”
“Not even a picture of your parents?” he asks.
My voice lowers to a whisper. “No. I keep that with me at all times.”
The annoyed expression he’s been bearing simmers just a touch. His eyes glaze over as he looks at me. “For what it’s worth, I’m sure they’re proud you went off and chased your dreams.”
His comment takes me by surprise.
I inhale a quivering breath, sharply letting it out as the emotions rush up to my face and build behind my eyes.
“We’re here,” Jim says from the front seat.
I glance out the window and see we’re in front of a bar called The Tap Room. The lights inside are on, showing the packed pub with music blaring from within.
Zack puts his hand on the handle and steps out onto the sidewalk. With his duffel bag in his other hand, he gets out of the car and bows down, looking inside.
“You coming?” he asks.
I have to blink at him a few times to see if he’s really asking this. “Me?”
“Is there anyone else in the backseat?”
His question is painfully obvious, but I’m still confused. “You want me to go to the bar? With you?”
“Listen, Jo, I don’t know about you, but it’s been ten years, and I have a shitload of questions. When I close this door, I know I’m never going to see you again. So, this is it because I’m not asking again. You coming in or not?”
I’d be lying to say I’m not curious to spend more time with him.
Against my better judgment, I get out of the car, grab my suitcase from the trunk, and walk with him inside The Tap Room.
The bar is a bustling sea of patrons, ranging from college coeds to middle-aged. Bruce Springsteen is playing over the loudspeaker as everyone talks and drinks like it’s a normal day in San Francisco and they’re not affected by the wet fog one bit.