Page 26 of The Virgin Game Plan (Rules of Love 2)
There’s one more thing about San Francisco. It surfaces from my subconscious and demands attention, no matter how hard I try not to consider the fact that San Francisco is Reese Fallon’s hometown.
It doesn’t matter. It’s a big world, and has been almost two years since the day we met and parted ways. If she’s not still in South America, she could be anywhere, and as long as she’s happy, that’s fine with me.
And if she is back in California, what are the odds a woman like her is still single?
9
Reese
As I roll up my retro blouses, tucking them neatly into my suitcase, I FaceTime with my mom back in San Francisco.
“I hope I can still recognize you when I pick you up at the airport,” she teases. “You’ve been gone so long, who knows?”
“Well, you are looking at me right now, so that might help,” I point out.
She taps her chin, studying me as she stirs a pot on the stove. Dan dan noodles—she’s currently addicted, thanks to her favorite food blogs. She promised she’d make them for me when I return. “I suppose that’s true. I’ll look for someone who looks like you.”
“Excellent plan, Mom.” I roll up a pair of jeans next. “Did anything change while I was gone? Golden Gate Bridge is still there for tourists to photograph when they’re not on the trolley?”
“Sounds about right. But what I want to know is this—will you miss Peru and Colombia when you’re back here?”
That’s an excellent question. I’ve loved my time here in these countries and Chile as well. My adventurous heart adored exploring the city of Lima and walking along a paved path overlooking the Pacific Ocean from the edge of a cliff. On weekends I visited the botanic gardens in Bogotá and went snowboarding in the Andes near Santiago. Every day, I checked out markets, food trucks, and street vendors as part of my life’s mission to sample new flavors and cuisines.
But more than that, I learned tons from the work.
I’d like to think the girls I taught learned a lot as well, not just about broadcast and new media. Discovery goes both ways—that’s what my counterparts who’ve traveled to the US have said as well.
I’ll miss the eager eyes and the ravenous hearts of so many of the teenagers, like the girls in Bogotá who started an art heist podcast that’s becoming trendy.
But I’ve scored a great job back home, and a place to live, which is no small thing in San Francisco. It’s an attached studio off a home that Tia’s family owns in the city, and I’ll get to see my mom again and my sister in San Diego from time to time. Plus, it’ll be a touch easier to do my podcast when I’m stateside, though keeping it up abroad wasn’t difficult.
“I’ll miss it here,” I tell Mom, “but it’ll be good to be home. I can’t wait to see you, and Layla and Tia, and Grant. I’ve missed everyone. I’m ready to start the next phase of my life,” I say, with a deep but resolute inhalation. I’m twenty-four, with a birthday in the fall. “I’ll be glad to be in San Francisco when I turn a quarter century.”
“Good,” she says with a motherly smile. Then her expression turns serious. “I wanted to let you know something though.”
My heart stops, then starts up again, rabbit-fast. “That’s not a good way to start a conversation. What’s going on?”
“It’s not bad. Just that your father is moving back to town.”
My brow furrows. “He is? Last time we talked, he was in Atlanta.”
“True, but he and . . .” She frowns, trying to remember the name of wife number three. “He and Becky are moving back here. She’s having a baby.”
I groan and slump down on the bed in my tiny apartment in Lima. “For real?”
My heart squeezes, making a painful knot in my chest, and I’m not even sure why. Maybe because my relationship with my father isn’t simply strained—it’s painful at times.
“Yes. For real. I thought you’d want to know.”
I nod, my head aching. “Does that mean I have to, I dunno, go to a baby shower?”
My mom’s quiet for a second, then she adopts a big toothy smile. A big, uncomfortable toothy smile. “You don’t have to do anything.”
I scoff, chasing it with a light laugh. “One of your many adages. You can always say no.”
“Exactly. So say no if you want,” Mom says breezily. “But an invitation is probably forthcoming. He’s spoken to your sister, though Kelsey doesn’t know if she’ll make it up from San Diego. But I imagine you’ll get an invite too.”
My stomach twists.
I haven’t seen my dad since high school, when he brought the woman he’d been cheating on wife number two with to my graduation ceremony and then to my graduation dinner.
