Page 82 of Love Like This

“Gotcha. Good note,” she said, and returned to her table.Throughout her work weeks, she called on him with questions about the process,timeline, and structure of Bertrand and even where to find something comparableto coffee creamer. Honestly, the transition had been a smooth one. Claudette,herself, had even stopped by to welcome Spencer and see if there was anythingshe needed. There actually wasn’t. They had taken care of her, and then some.These people were the real deal.

The company had arranged for a small one-bedroom apartment for hernot far from their building. She could walk to work or take the metro just onestop. How easy was that? In her time there, she’d adventured to cafés,bookstores, and all the expected tourist sights. Sitting across from the EiffelTower late one night with a latte in one hand and a warm chocolate chip cookiein the other, Spencer tried to marinate in the beauty of the city. The beautyshe knew innately was there. She could see it easily enough with her eyes, butshe was having trouble feeling it. She thought back to the walk she took withHadley on the canals, and how being there with her, looking down at the“duckling gentlemen” that swam past, had her on such a high. It was because shesaw them through Hadley’s eyes. When she was with Hadley, she saw—no,felt—the beauty in mosteverything. What an amazing gift that was.

At a loss, she took out her phone, needing to reach out andconnect with someone. While she wanted more than anything to call Hadley, maybeKendra could talk her through her rough patch. She dialed and waited, only tohave the call roll over to voice mail. She listened to the outgoing message, sofamiliar, and such a strong reminder of home. She clicked off the call with asigh and stared off into the night feeling more cut off from the world thanever.

She decided to walk as she ate her cookie, smiling at the couplescuddled together to fight off the November cold. They took selfies with thetower and laughed and kissed and did all the things Spencer might have rolledher eyes at just a year ago. Now she felt physical pain square in the center ofher chest as a result of acute jealousy. She imagined taking one of thosephotos snuggled up to Hadley, inhaling the gentle scent of her hibiscusshampoo.

She tossed the cookie and headed home.

She had Paris, yes, but did this version of Paris even matter inthe larger scheme? Everything came with a price, but sometimes it was simplytoo high. The cold wind blew and she pulled up the hood of her jacket andcontemplated her life, her future, and her place in the world. She glanced backat the shimmering tower and blinked, looking to it for guidance, feeling pulledin a million different directions.

Everything she thought she knew felt so very foreign to her rightnow. She nodded to the tower, turned, bowed her head, and walked what felt likethe very lonely streets of Paris.

* * *

Hadley sat among various piles of her childhood belongings, takinga moment as her gaze passed over each toy, trinket, or book from her past. Herdads had continued their decluttering process now that the house had officiallybeen remodeled and asked Hadley if she wanted to retain any of the nostalgicitems for herself. She’d made the trip to Calabasas for dinner with the dads,and now that the homemade pizza (courtesy of Papa) had been consumed, she satquietly with the remnants of her youth stacked around her like protectivewalls. The old Hadley would have struggled to part with that tennis trophy fromhigh school, as it held such sentimental value and reminded her of a muchsimpler time. She glanced over at the music box with the puppies on top thatshe’d play each night before bed until she hit the seventh grade when she’ddecided it was, sadly, too juvenile, only to resume the practice one short yearlater. The old Hadley wouldn’t have parted with the music box for anything. Thecurrent version of herself, however, saw the value in letting go and notholding on to things too tightly.

“So, what are we saving?” her Papa asked, drying off his handsfrom the last of the dinner dishes.

She glanced around. “Nothing. Let’s just donate it all. I thinkthat would be for the best.”

He stared at her. “I don’t think I heard you correctly. Eitherthat, or you’re an alien being taking the form of my daughter who likes to holdon to anything with sentimental value.”

She shrugged, and a melancholy heaviness settled right on herchest. “Just traveling a little lighter these days. That’s all.”

He nodded and shoved his hands into his pockets. He was always themore reflective parent, never rushing to any one conclusion, and she saw himworking something out as he approached and took a seat next to her on the floorof the garage. “This about the girlfriend in Paris?”

She attempted a smile that didn’t quite make it. “Maybe. I don’tknow.” But she certainly knew. She wasn’t the same anymore, and that madecomplete sense. The months she’d spent with Spencer had been that impactful.

He gave her knee a quick pat. “Tell you what. I’m gonna box up acouple of the more important items. You know, just in case you change yourmind.”

“I won’t,” she said, more firmly.

“Then I’ll do it for me.” He picked up the music box and turned itto her. “I always had a soft spot for these puppies here anyway.”

She smiled at him wanly. “Whatever you want.”

“Well, I definitely want this music box.” He glanced behind him atthe door leading into the house. “Your dad has a chocolate cheesecake he’s justpulling out of the fridge. We can indulge him if you want.”

She didn’t have a lot of words, but nodded and followed him insideand into the kitchen. It felt good to be back at home with her dads, and forjust a little while, she let herself be propped up by the comforting walls ofthat house and by the men who’d given their everything to raise her. Chocolatecheesecake wouldn’t magically rewind the last few weeks of her life, but itcertainly wouldn’t make anything worse.

Her dad pulled her into a silent hug as she passed, and Papasliced her an extra-large piece of cheesecake. The three of them ate togetheraround the kitchen table. It wasn’t like their typically raucous, fun-filledtimes together, but the quiet solidarity would have to do.

* * *

Isabel held the door open for Hadley as she entered Pajamas justpast seven that next morning. Autumn had her mocha already on the table, whichmeant that she would win the angel in heaven prize for the day. Hadley blinkedand gestured behind her to Isabel. “Why is she being the door person?” sheasked Gia, who was already seated.

“Who knows? Maybe she’s writing a courteous character into hernext episode and needs to experience it firsthand. Hard to say with writers.They’re puzzling. She opened the door for me, too.”

Hadley nodded and took her seat as Autumn joined them. Isabel,however, remained at the door. “She’s being weird,” Autumn said. “Can weofficially say that, as a group?”

“Maybe not.” Hadley glanced back at her with a confused shrug.“She’s expressing herself…via door. She’s greeting your guests. Nothing wrongwith that, really.”

“Except that it’s weird,” Autumn reiterated. “We all know it.”

Gia sat forward. “Isn’t that their assistant? Scarlett somebody,who works on the show?”

They all turned to find out. It was in fact Scarlett. Isabelgreeted her and directed her to their table. “Hey. Scarlett’s joining ustoday,” Isabel called.

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