gave her a kiss on the cheek, she patted my face and I closed my eyes to commit the moment to my memory. The soft pads of her fingers, the vanilla scent of her hand lotion, and the warmth that spread through me from her gentle touch.
I missed her. I knew that was a crazy thing to say since I was with her. But it was more of a cumulative missing than a now-thing missing. She was in her mid-eighties. I wasn’t sure how much longer I had with her. That thought hit me like a ton of bricks and I wrapped my arms around her neck. “I love you, Gam.” I could feel myself starting to tear up.
“I love you, too, Chipmunk.” She patted my arms, but I could hear in her voice that she was already distracted by her show.
I stood back up, wiped beneath my eyes, and got out of there before she noticed my emotion. Her age wasn’t her favorite subject and I knew that she would not appreciate me getting upset about the realization that I wasn’t sure how many more years I had with her.
When I stepped out into the carport, I briefly considered driving. But since I was headed to a bar where I planned on having a drink, two at the most, I figured it would be best not to get behind the wheel. In L.A. I would have Ubered but in Wishing Well, I walked.
After lunch at The Spoon, Gam had taken me to Sugar Rush, which was owned by Mrs. Porter’s granddaughter—who also happened to be Beau’s SIL—Destiny. She and Cara, and Harmony had been so sweet at Lilah’s birthday party. I’d forgotten what it was like to be around people that didn’t have any agenda or angle. When I was hanging out with the three friends, they genuinely seemed to want to get to know me. Sure, they wanted dirt on what happened between Beau and I at the wedding, but I had a feeling that even if I hadn’t sucked face with Beau, they would’ve been just as hospitable.
So, when Destiny mentioned that the girls were having a night out at The Tipsy Cow and invited me to come along, I jumped at the chance. My short time here in Wishing Well had revealed to me that genuine, real relationships were something that was lacking in my life.
And I wasn’t just talking about what happened between Beau and I, although the night I’d spent with him had been more genuine, more real than all six of the years I’d been with Drake combined. I was talking about my lunch with Gam and her friends. And Lilah’s birthday party. Everyone in Wishing Well had accepted me as one of their own, and it made me feel like I was home.
The ring of my phone interrupted the chorus of crickets as I turned down the street the bar was on. When I saw it was Gen, I picked it up. “Hey.”
“Did you see the interview?”
“Yes.”
Drake had given an interview to Access Hollywood saying that he was blindsided by the photos of me kissing Beau. He even teared up. He told Mario Lopez that we were supposed to be in the Bahamas where he had planned on proposing to me. I turned it off after that.
“How are you doing? Have you talked to him?”
“I’m fine.” And the odd thing was, that was the truth. Maybe I was just in denial, or shock, but my life in L.A. seemed so distant to me. It was like an alternate universe, or something. “I haven’t talked to him. I’ve called. I’ve left messages.”
“He hasn’t returned your phone calls?” she asked, almost giddily.
I knew that Gen liked drama, but her getting enjoyment over any of this was disconcerting. “No.”
“So, do you really think it’s over between you two?”
Again, she sounded like she was happy about that. I wasn’t actually upset about the breakup, but what if I was?
“Yes. It’s over.” I snipped. I didn’t mean to sound irritated, but it was just unnerving to hear her sounding like she was enjoying my current predicament.
My phone buzzed again, and I saw that it was my mother calling. I hadn’t spoken to her in months. We’d texted a few times but with the time difference of her living overseas, we hadn’t spoken.
“Gen, I gotta go.”
“Okay, call me bac—”
I clicked over to the other line while she was still talking. Her friendship had left a lot to be