Page 102 of Finding Home

“You can’t or you won’t?”

Shifting away from Viet, her eyes flicked to the creamy white wall on the other side of the room. How easy it was for him to look the picture of comfort as he quietly pushed her into discomfort. Viet was nothing but patient with her, and with most people, but the man could push when needed. It’s what made him a good attorney and an even better friend. Where Elle would run in waving her sword, Viet strategized. His pushing was never without thought.

Once Elle had stopped returning to Perry, Viet had never nudged, never spoke of nor forced the issue. Never pointed out the holidays, or birthdays, or anniversaries she’d chosen to miss. There’d never been a case made to go back until this summer.

Elle twisted her body toward her friend. “For fourteen years you never pushed me to come back. Why now?”

“Well…” He sat up straighter in the bed. “…first, I think you would have really regretted missing Tobey’s wedding and Pete’sbirthday, but especially Tobey’s wedding. For weeks after his graduation from high school and then the Trooper Academy, you had this guilty expression. You texted or called him incessantly and sent him gifts. I’ve had a front row seat to the ‘Elle Davidson Guilt Fest’. You weren’t ready to come back, but you felt awful each time you said no or made an excuse to stay when you should have gone.” He patted her knee. “I didn’t want you to have those regrets anymore. I didn’t want you to have my regrets.” Viet’s voice cracked.

Elle crawled closer, pressing her shoulder to his, reminding him she was there. He didn’t need to elaborate. She knew his regrets as much as he knew hers. His dad died of a heart attack when Viet was fourteen. The first day of summer each year, they would go fishing. That year, Viet had bowed out of the annual tradition so he could go to the mall with his friends. It was no big deal. They could always go the following weekend. Like every teenager, he assumed there was a never-ending supply of time. His dad died the next day, leaving Viet with a profound sense ofwhat if?

“Second…” Viet continued, clearing his throat. “…I think I knew it was time, because I knew you were finally ready.”

“How did you know?” She blinked.

“You seldom talk about Perry. Once Tobey’s wedding invite came, you started reminiscing more about here. I think you’ve spoken more about home in the last six months than in the last six years. We don’t wax lyrically about things we don’t miss.”

“I didn’t wax lyrically!” she guffawed.

“Eleanor Marie Davidson, if I had to hear one more time about how none of the pizza places in Long Beach compare to your sainted Daryl’s, the loveliness of Letchworth in the fall, or your aunt and uncle’s house, I was going to staple your mouth shut.”

“Had I really been talking about home so much?”

“Yes. Willa will confirm. That’s why we ambushed you at happy hour that night.”

She gasped. “I had no idea.”

“It was almost like a nervous tick that you couldn’t help. You’d slip tidbits about Perry in with the most random connections. Like Willa wore this orange blouse to brunch and you went on for ten minutes about how it reminded you of the color of leaves in the fall. Then you started talking about collecting leaves at Letchworth for your grandma. It was then that Willa and I knew you were ready and that you needed to go back.”

“Wow.”

“Well, I am your best friend. So is Willa…but I’m the best of the best.” He smirked. “Elle, we’ve known each other since we were eighteen. I know I have my older sisters, but you’re myrealsister. We know each other better than anyone else in this world. You know things about me that even my husband doesn’t know. You knew when to drag me into that jewelry store to finally buy that ring to propose to Ryan. Just like I knew it was time for you to come home, and how I know that you are in love with Clayton.” He looped his arm around her, pulling her close.

“I leave…” Her eyes flicked to the old-fashioned metal alarm clock on the bed stand. It was after one in the morning. It was now Friday. “…tomorrow.”

“You know there are these things called planes where couples can fly to see each other and phones where they can talk to each other.”

Elle elbowed his ribs, annoyed with her friend’s sassy logic.

“Seriously, long distance works. Look at Ryan and me.” Viet gestured to himself.

“It works if somebody moves. His home is here.” Elle motioned around the room. “Mine is there” She pointed out the window.

“I’m pretty sure that window is east-facing and last time I checked, California was west,”he teased.

“I can’t stay here, and he can’t come. Clayton and I talked about it on Sunday. It’s not fair to drag something on that won’t happen, at least not in the way he deserves.” Her voice wobbled but was decisive.

“What about whatyoudeserve?” Viet took her hand, his thumb skating across her knuckles.

“I think it’s late and we’ve both had too much to drink to have this conversation,” Elle said with finality in her tone.

She didn’t want to discuss this, to lay out her defense for her decisions. Not now. There would be time to rehash this over future happy hours with Viet. No doubt he’d bide his time until he pounced on her reasons, dissecting them like a lion with his prey. For the remainder of her time here, she just wanted to exist in her bubble of happiness, surrounded by everyone she loved and not thinking about the day after tomorrow when she’d wake up in her lavender sheets in her condo overlooking the ocean on the other side of the country. Away from Clayton.

“Alright. I’ll let you off the hook tonight but only if you take me to Daryl’s tomorrow for lunch. You’ve talked about it so much in the last six months that I’ve been craving it. Truthfully, it may be the only reason I said yes when Clayton messaged me.” Playful resignation curled his lips up.

“Deal.” Elle kissed Viet’s cheek before scooting off the bed.“Come on, Fitz.”She called to the stocky sleeping pug who made no movement.

“I think he’s staying with me.” A smug expression brightened Viet’s face as he looked down at Fitz curled in a tiny ball beside him.

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