She went for another sip of the cider and said, "Yeah, she teaches second grade. Jamie's in first. Grace used to teach third grade with us but she moved to a school with a better commute." She leaned in, her cheeks pink as a devious smile stretched across her face. The cider was a good call. "We triedall yearto gather up the new kindergarten and third-grade people for lunch but Jamie says we're too much for them."
"Nothing about that surprises me."
"It should! Jamie might be a handful and Emme has some big opinions, but I bring baked goods at least three days a week. There's nothing overwhelming about someone handing out muffins and brookies."
I glanced at the thin gold chains that circled her neck, the baggy cardigan she wore over a t-shirt with fine navy stripes. All very simple, but when paired with that cornsilk hair, cheekbones like she'd been chiseled from raw stone, and big hazel eyes, she was the source of all light in the room. And she still didn't know it.
"Give yourself a little more credit," I said.
"For what?"
I pointed a french fry at her. "Have you met yourself? You're intimidating as fuck."
"That is a wild exaggeration," she said primly.
I grabbed my phone and toggled to the calendar app. "When is this wedding again? I need to meet these women. See what happens when you join forces and multiply your powers. That might explain all those small earthquakes on the Eastern Seaboard recently."
"You should know it's a very exclusive guest list."
"If there's one thing I'm good at, it's showing up where I don't belong."
Audrey met my gaze, her eyes bright and warm like she could spar with me all day. Like she finally remembered that we knew how to do this. I found myself leaning forward, hoarding every last piece of her I could get because I knew I'd need them when this ended and all I had left were the memories.
"Trust me, I know all about that," she said.
Pressure rose in my chest again. Probably inhaled that burger a little too fast. I dragged in a breath but it didn't help.
"Tell me about Jamie," I said. "What kind of trouble could a first-grade teacher be? Really, Saunders, I don't know how you expect me to buy that."
Audrey ducked her head as she laughed, her napkin pressed to her mouth. When she stopped, when she dropped the napkin to her lap, I found myself swallowed whole by a smile that was so full of love and adoration and devotion that I had to clear my throat and look away. It hurt to see that radiating out of her and know it'd never be for me.
The pressure compounded in my chest as Audrey told me about Jamie and Emme, Grace and Shay. She spoke in careful sidesteps where every reference to her cross-country move from San Diego and her teacher training program in Boston existed without mention of her ex, her divorce, or her family. There was a great, dark canyon between the day I walked away from her in that church and when she touched down in Boston years later. Cutting such wide margins around the past only made me hungrier for the details.
Tell me, honey. Tell me everything.
She didn't have to say it but it was obvious these women had stood by while she'd built this new version of herself brick by brick. My throat ached a bit when she talked about themplucking her out of her classroom and folding her into their group.
She wasn't one for collecting people in her life. She had to be collected, scooped up by the relentless ones who refused to let her drift on the sidelines.
There'd been a time when I was the one collecting her. I just didn't know if I could do it again.
chapter thirteen
Jude
Today's vocabulary word: altitude
It was almostfour in the afternoon when the flight to Salt Lake finally boarded.
We'd talked through a few more rounds of drinks and then a plate of nachos built to Audrey's custom specifications, and I knew everything there was to know about her school, her friends, and their significant others.
Good people, if not a little chaotic where it came to love and relationships—though I wasn't sure I was free to throw those stones at the moment.
The flight was packed and everyone involved was already fried. Kids were crying. The plane smelled like old olives. The overhead bins were stuffed with things that belonged under the seat. The crew looked like they were ready to strangle complainers with an inflatable life vest.
None of it bothered me. Audrey was seated beside me, her book in her lap and her cheeks still rosy from the drinks and the stories, and we had the next five and a half hours ahead of us totalk about every little thing in her life. If I played this right, my mother might actually believe we were engaged.
I didn't let myself register the way her elbow brushed my arm when she shifted. I knew I'd feel the press of her hip against me if I let my legs spread even a few inches. Didn't think about it at all.
