Page 56 of Wildest Dreams

We hug one last time and I lean down to kiss her. I feel warm tears on my cheeks, which I’m not sure are mine or hers. She pulls away, face flushed and wet, and I realize they’re hers. “Goodbye, Pierre.”

I open my mouth to say goodbye as she turns away, but I choke on the words.

I simply get in my car, dreading the long drive to the Atlanta airport.

In the distance by the water, Bertha is sunbathing. Life will go on in Magnolia Row, as if I’d never been here at all.

KENDALL

Icommit to staying in the house permanently and find a renter for the loft above my office to keep me from chickening out and abandoning the house again.

Patsy and Garion help me move the rest of my stuff, which I put in the spare bedrooms for the time being. I love that Pierre hung pictures of us together, but they make me so lonesome for him I can hardly stand it sometimes.

After he left, he let me know when he got to the airport and when he arrived home in LA. He even sent me a photo of his view of the mountains from his house in Bel Air. Every time I get a text from him, I “like” it to be polite, but don’t comment. I also say nothing when he asks how I am, and I haven’t returned his calls. I can’t let this drag out. We both need to move on.

The town has gone back to normal now that the film crew has left. Movie chatter has dissipated, the streets are no longer closed, and it takes significantly less time to get a beer at Cattywampus, which I discover when I meet Patsy, Micah, and our friend Sistine out for drinks on a Saturday afternoon in early August. I haven’t had very many proper girls’ nights since my divorce, but the four of us hung out a lot when I was married and needed time away from Tucker.

It’s a welcome return to normalcy. Patsy regals us with stories of the crazy things her boys have been doing, Micah gives us horror stories of her online dating experiences, and Sistine fills us in on all the local gossip she hears at the coffee shop she runs near my office. They casually ask about Pierre, but in a normal, friendly way instead of an oh-my-god-tell-us-about-the-movie-star way.

Of course, we see Tucker there. The weird thing is, Whitney isn’t with him.

Patsy is the first to point it out, of course.

“He’s alone,” she says. We all turn around and look. He approaches the bar and orders a drink, but instead of getting a table, he sits on a barstool and makes conversation with Calista.

He looks around, sees the four of us, and waves. None of us wave back.

“That’s weird,” Sistine comments in her deep, no-nonsense voice.

“Maybe she’s sick,” says Micah.

“Yeah, with the clap,” responds Patsy.

We all laugh, then go back to talking about our lives, but throughout the night I can’t help but notice Tucker glaring at me unapologetically.

* * *

When I get home, the house is eerily quiet. I put my purse on the kitchen counter and carry my phone to my bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. It dings as I spit my toothpaste into the sink.

I pick it up, look at it, and almost have a stroke when I see who it is.

Tucker.

Hey, just wanted to say how nice you looked tonight. I’d like to talk to you if you’re free sometime soon.

I ignore it. I’ve gotten good at ignoring men lately.

He doesn’t say anything else, and I go to bed. When I sleep, I dream of Pierre.

* * *

The following Monday I tell Patsy about the text when she gets to work.

“Mother f-er. What an a-hole,” she says. “Of course, he wants you now that you’ve been with someone better.”

“I don’t know what’s going on with him,” I say. “It’s weird.”

“Do you think it has something to do with him being alone the other night?”

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