We break before the concierge team comes to meet with me, and I check my phone, discovering a text from Chloe.
Chloe: You should have woken me up. I slept in and am now at the spa. Pretty sure you drew the short stick this morning.
I grin.
Me: You were exhausted. Are you enjoying the spa?
Chloe: Immensely. Thank you for arranging this.
Me: You’re welcome. I’m going to meet Cooper for lunch, and then we all have dinner plans at 6 and a show at 8.
Chloe: You need to lower the bar. This is day one.
Me: Pretty sure this is day 2.
Chloe: Depends on how we’re measuring time.
Me: I’ve known you three weeks shy of two years because you’re wrong. The first time we met was on campus, outside at a coffee cart by the science wing. You and Vanessa were ahead of me in line. You smiled at me and randomly bought my coffee in one of those American pay it forward things.
Chloe: Are you sure? I would have remembered you.
Me: I was wearing a hat and sunglasses, nursing a hangover, and you guys were in your own world, talking about some party you didn’t want to go to.
Chloe: …that’s crazy.
Me: I’ll see you at 6. Also, bring a jacket.
I think about the memory I shared that was seemingly innocent and unimportant, and how a month later, I was introduced to her when Cooper invited me to hang out with him and a friend in an environment that didn’t involve shots or the gym. I can remember the surprise when I recognized her. Then, two weeks later, she was in front of me again, only that time it was at a party, sans Cooper. Over the past two years, she’s continued to appear in my life, sometimes at the most inopportune moments and others when it seems like fate is trying to give us another chance.
Cammie and the other two concierges enter the conference room, and I tuck my phone and memories away as I ask them to tell me about their perceptions and other realities.
I step into the restaurant ten minutes late. My final meeting stretched on so long, I finally had to stand up to indicate I had to leave when my casual attempts to look at my watch and push my chair back didn’t seem to work.
The manager of the restaurant walks me toward the back, trying to make polite conversation as we pass through the darkened space. The sun is already beginning to set in the distance, making me regret not having gone outside for one of my breaks today. That disappointment slips away as we turn the corner, and I see her: light pink dress, nude lips, bright eyes, and a smile that stretches across her entire face as she laughs at something. It seemed impossible to cross that line with her, and now it seems impossible that it took so fucking long for it to happen.
She notices me, her laughter dimming to a radiant smile as we cross the rest of the way to the table. I stop at her chair and kiss her cheek before taking the seat next to her, across from Cooper. I set my hand on hers, watching as she turns her hand over and weaves our fingers together. “You look stunning,” I tell her.
She smiles, her cheeks staining a light shade of pink.
“Hey, man,” Cooper says. “We didn’t choose your drink, so if it’s wrong, blame it on poor management.” He winks.
I grab the glass, smelling the clear liquor. “Gin and tonic,” I tell them. “It’s my father’s drink of choice.” I slide it back with my fingertips.
“Ready for this, Tyler?” Vanessa asks. “Look what Chloe bought me.” She pulls a shirt from a gift bag on her lap. Across the front is a green sea monster with “Nessie” written across the bottom.
Chloe laughs again, revealing it was the source of her laughter from moments ago. “I found it in the gift shop next door. This is what happens when you guys leave me unattended.”
Vanessa shakes her head, dropping it back into the bag.
“How was your day?” Chloe asks, turning her attention to me.
“Good. Long. I’m glad we have tomorrow off, even if it’s to drive again. The next time we do this, we’re flying.”
“I don’t know,” Vanessa says. “I’m warming up to the car.”
“That’s because you sleep most of the time,” I point out.
She flashes an immediate smile that looks guiltier than it does joyful. “Touché. But really, with how long it takes to get through security and things anymore, I don’t know that we’re losing that much time.”
“Flying,” I insist.
“I won’t argue,” Vanessa says with a dismissive shrug. “Just tell me where to sign up.”
The chef comes to our table before we can consider a continuation of our travels, telling us about the specials he’s prepared and wines that will pair well with each dish.
Chloe slips her hand from mine to reach for her glass, and I place my hand on her thigh. I mindlessly run my fingers over her skin, brushing random patterns across the surface.
One of my favorite parts of our trip has been our dinners—like those in England, they’re longer, extended with conversation and laughter as we talk about the food and our day. This one is no different, except Chloe’s gaze frequents mine, and I’ve spent most of the time with my hand on her thigh, reliant on the feel of her skin. It’s as though the simple action allows me to breathe and relax, only interrupted when we have to leave to catch the car to take us
