Page 86 of On the Slopes of Tahoe
Big day!
He doesn’t know how big, as I didn’t tell him about my plan to quit at the resort. That was a decision I wanted to make a hundred percent on my own.
Breck
I hope the move goes smoothly.
Wish we could be there.
The dots pop up and disappear, pop up and disappear.
Breck
Wish I could be there.
My eyes prick with tears.
Me
Me too.
I write and delete “I miss you” at least five times, then chicken out, going for the less vulnerable option.
Me
Tell Willow I miss her.
Breck
She misses you too.
The first tears spill over and I press a hand over my mouth to stifle the sob that wants so badly to escape. The door behind me opens and Jamie envelops me in a hug, holding me as I cry into his shoulder.
“Shhh, m’eudail, shhh.” His slight Scottish accent wraps around the Gaelic endearment and I melt into him farther.
I cling to his sweater with my fists and let myself—finally—experience all the feelings.
“I miss them.”
“I know you do. So do I.”
“But—” I start, but Jamie interrupts me.
“I know it’s not the same.” He pulls back and his thumbs swipe the tears from my cheeks. He looks right into my eyes. “You promised me I wasn’t going to be picking up broken pieces of you. Am I going to have to fly to Australia and kick some ass?”
“I’m not broken.” I hiccup. “I’m more whole than I’ve been in a long time.” I choke out a sob. “It’s just… a piece of me went to Sydney with him, and I’ll never get it back. That hole feels really empty, but everything else feels so full, so I don’t know what to do with that.”
“You take it one day at a time.” His arms come around me again and he kisses the top of my head. “For what it’s worth, I’m so proud of you, Rory. Now, let’s get you out of here and into your own place, shall we?”
We load my stuff into my car and head down the mountain. I was so busy with Breck and Willow last week, and then with the elopement and packing this weekend, to make it down to see the apartment. My new landlords sent me pictures, but I’m anxious to actually experience it in person.
When we pull up to my new home, I take a deep breath and step out, looking up to the mountains I used to live on. This change will be good.
We’re parked in front of a large garage, attached to an even larger home. One of the bays will be mine—a first for me—and I let myself feel hopeful. Our shoes crunch on gravel until we reach a staircase that leads to a separate unit.
The wooden stairs creak on our ascent, laden down with large suitcases. I enter the code into the keypad and the door swings open with a squeak. I nearly melt as I take in the cutest space I’ve ever seen. It came furnished, though they said I could decorate however I want. For now, this is perfect. It’s even better than the pictures.
My parents’ condo was clean and modern, but I prefer something warmer, comfier.
