Page 41 of Maybe in Another Life

“I want to. It’s a good excuse to see you. I’m coming. You can’t stop me.”

I laugh and then realize that I never really thought I was sleeping here tonight. I think I knew I was just going through the motions until he came to get me. “OK, yeah, yeah, yeah, come get me!” I say. “I’m excited to see you.”

“I’ll leave now,” he says.

So within thirty minutes of us getting home, I am on my way out the door to meet Ethan’s car.

When I walk into the living room to grab my bag, I see Gabby in the kitchen in her pajamas, getting a glass of water.

“Headed somewhere?” she asks, teasing me.

“Caught me,” I say.

“I called it,” she says. “Although I figured you’d have us drop you off at his place, so you lasted longer than I thought.”

“At least I’m a little unpredictable.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” she says as I turn to the door. “Wait.”

She pulls the cinnamon rolls off the counter and brings them to me. “Please take these with you. Leave them at Ethan’s. I can’t look at them without wanting to eat them all.”

I laugh. “And you think I can?”

“Yeah, well,” she says, “you attract cinnamon rolls everywhere you go. I can’t live like that.”

I take the cinnamon rolls. “I should send your parents a thank-you note,” I say. I hear Ethan’s car pull up.

Gabby looks at me as if that’s the dumbest idea she’s ever heard. “They would be insulted,” she says. “It would be like if I sent them one for raising me. Stop.”

I laugh.

“But also, go,” she says. “Pretty sure he’s right outside.”

I give her a hug and tell her I’ll see her tomorrow.

I walk out the door, and Ethan’s car is parked right in front. I watch him for a moment before he knows he’s being seen. He’s turning the key out of the ignition. He’s opening his door.

“You look gorgeous,” he says.

I smile and then quickly find myself laughing at the idea that Gabby could have heard him. I can just imagine her opening up a window and calling down to the street, “OK, but that’s not where a woman’s worth lies!”

I smile at him and walk toward the car as he opens the passenger door for me. I hug him and get in. He gets in on his side and pulls away from the curb.

“Is that an entire batch of cinnamon rolls?” he asks. The smell has filled up the car.

“Yep,” I say. “And if you’re nice to me, I’ll let you have one or five.”

“Never a dull, cinnamon-roll-less moment with you.”

“Never,” I say.

Ethan grabs my hand at a stop sign. He kisses my cheek at a red light.

I feel like myself around him. And I like myself around him. So far, I like who I am in this city. I feel like a long-forgotten version of myself, a version I’m much more comfortable being than the New York me.

Suddenly, a small, wily dog runs out into the middle of the street.

Ethan quickly veers the car to the side of the road to avoid hitting it. The dog continues to make its way across to the other sidewalk. It’s late enough that there are no cars coming up behind us yet. Ethan pulls over.

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