You, with a View

by Jessica Joyce

The week moves at a glacial pace. Mom talks me into trying the Peloton, and I last an entire thirty-minute class, then spend the next three hours determining whether I need to go to the hospital.

I want to twist my hands around his memories like I’m wringing out a towel so I can get it all in one fell swoop.

“You said in that letter you would love her your entire life.” He nods. “I did, and I will.” He places a stack of pictures in front of me, but I don’t pick them up yet. “She was my first great love. I was hers, as well. But your grandfather was her last.”

My gaze flits up to the sky, and I shift in my seat, lowering my eyes to trace the route again. Curiosity and restlessness wrap around my heart like vines. What would it be like to follow in footsteps she never actually took? Would I be chasing a ghost? Or would she feel closer than ever?

“You’ll figure it all out.” I keep hearing that, but I’m no closer to figuring anything out than I was a year ago. Or the five before that.

“What’s truly funny,” Paul says, “is Teddy talked quite a bit about a very accomplished girl in high school. Now, it took me a bit of time to unravel all this after I met you last week, but I realized the name I always heard as Steph was actually Teddy talking about you and calling you Shep.”

I meet Sadie’s gaze—she’s been watching all of this with interest. “I told you.” I’ve spent at least three cumulative hours talking about our enemy vibes. “You’re right.” Sadie nods. “But I mean . . .” he’s hot, she finishes in silent best friend shorthand. I raise my eyebrows. You can’t overcome that personality. Her mouth purses thoughtfully. Can’t you? Not even for one night? Theo looks between us, then directs stern eyebrows at me. “Stop talking about me.” “We weren’t talking about you,” I lie.

Theo’s voice is sexy in person, but over the phone it’s lethal. Thank god he balanced it out by being irritating.

Why are you calling me? Couldn’t you just text whatever you need to say? What kind of millennial are you? We’re supposed to be afraid of calling people.”

“Stop breathing down my neck.” “I’m not breathing down your neck. I’m breathing.” I exhale sharply. “Do it less, then.” “Breathe less?” “Yes, breathe less, Spencer, that’s exactly what I mean.”

“Was that necessary? I think I’ve gotten thrown around enough today,” I murmur into the silence. He smirks. “Didn’t know there was a limit.”

“I wouldn’t stop you if you kissed me right now.” I say it quietly in case he changes his mind, but his eyes darken, pupils dilating. He doesn’t move, though his mouth parts like he can already taste it. “Now you.” His breath dances over my lips. “If I kissed you right now, I wouldn’t stop.”

I catch Theo watching me. His expression is a manifestation of the way my chest feels. “What?” His mouth parts, then presses together. Then the look is gone, replaced by the sly expression I’ve—shit—missed. “You said I could look.” I choke out a laugh. “There’s a lot of nuance between looking and staring, Spencer.” “Sometimes I like to take my time.”

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that the more perfect it looks on the outside, the messier that shit is on the inside.”

It’s so silent. It infuriates me that she can just be gone. That she left me like this, floundering for answers, talking to the sky.

“Will you let me know how it goes?” I pause at the threshold. “Is that okay? Even if things don’t work out with Theo?” He gives me a look, pulling me in for a final hug. “You were hers,” he whispers. “So, now you’re mine, too.”