Page 46 of 32 Days in May
“I can’t believe I missed another whole day with you.”
My eyes fly open. “Marco?”
“Don’t tell me you’re dating someone else for only thirty days,” he drawls, voice sarcastic and sleepy.
I shift up onto my elbows, dizzy and confused and happy. “It’s like, three a.m.”
A throaty laugh ripples across the line. “It’s midnight, babe.” Babe? I roll over to check the analog clock on my nightstand. It is midnight, and barely at that.
“Don’t you babe me.”
“Why? Afraid you might like it?”
“Yeah, terrified.” I yawn. “Where are you?”
“New York.” He sighs these words. A door clicks behind him and suddenly his voice is farther away, flatter, without any echo. I can almost feel the hot city air. “I spent the whole day with a bunch of people I don’t like thinking about how much I’d rather be on a boat with you.”
I settle back against my pillow and decide to tell the truth. “I had a similar thought today. Which is weird.”
“Weird?” I can hear the smirk in his voice; maybe something else too. Smoke catching on his teeth. “Not nice or good?”
“No.” I dig the heel of my hand into my eyes. “It’s weird. I’ve known you for five days. Are you smoking?”
“You’re a slow burn, huh? A little stand-offish? Full of secrets?”
“No.” I sound very defensive. “I’m just not anxiously attached or a recovering addict. Now, answer the question.”
“Damn. Right through the heart with that one.” He sounds excited. He likes this, this me-being-mean thing. I like it, too. “And yes. Just one cigarette. I had a bad day.”
“Poor baby.”
He lets out a little growl and now I can definitely hear it, the sizzle of the paper as he inhales. “Exactly. More people need to feel bad for me.”
“What’s for dinner?”
“This cigarette.”
“It’s time for your favorite meal and all you’re having is some toxic air vapors?”
Marco makes a tut of agreement. “I’d kill for a Pier Point BLT.”
“With sweet potato fries or regular?”
“Regular. Who the fuck gets sweet potato fries?”
“Heart-healthy Americans,” I reply, defensive.
Marco huffs. “If you actually swap regular fries for sweet potato, we might need to end this little experiment.”
“Well.” I bite back a smile. “Looks like you’re single again, buster.” And that makes him laugh very hard.
Liv and I both wake up around eight and take our coffees down to the beach for one last walk. For some reason, I feel like she’s holding something back and this sensation only intensifies when I notice she’s barely sipped her coffee. I’ll never stop being acutely aware of Liv’s body language, every micro-change in her mood. I’m getting ready to ask just as we reach the top of the steps that lead from the sand to the asphalt, but she beats me to it.
“I’ll miss you,” she says quietly, threading her arm through mine.
“I’m always here,” I remind her.
“I know.” She pulls back, then runs a hand over my hair, smoothing the frizzing little bundles away from my face. An uncharacteristically gentle gesture. “I just prefer when you’re in the same house as me.”
