Page 39 of A Beginner's Guide to Forever
He points. “Down the hall and to the left.”
I shut the door, and when I look in the mirror, I’m unsure about the woman looking back at me. About how I got here, what I’m doing. I breathe deeply, taking my time. After I’m through washing my hands and applying more lip gloss, I head out in search of Hart. He’s not in the kitchen, where I left him.
I stop at the entrance to a formal living room and overhear his cousin Hayes talking. “She’s pretty hot, dude. But you didn’t tell me she was a cougar.”
A spasm of panic jolts me.Is that how he sees me? Like I’m some joke.
I swallow and round the corner to announce my presence, and see Hart shoving his cousin roughly up against the wall.
“Don’t,” he warns, voice stern.
Hayes jerks away, freeing himself from Hart’s grip, and straightens his jacket. “Chill.Dick.”
Hart turns to me. “Are you ready to see the guest cottage?” he says, recovering.
I nod wearily, feeling like I have whiplash. Any footing that I thought I had found, feels as though it’s been ripped from beneath me.
Chapter Ten
Don’t Be Afraid to Take a Detour
Napa Valley, California
The guest cottage is an absolutely charming two-bedroom, two-bathroom house with shake siding, big picture windows, a large porch, and its own kitchen and living spaces.
“This is your room,” Hart says, depositing my leather duffel bag on the bench at the end of a king-size bed in a room that I’ll now forever think of asthe blue room.
It contains a blue rug, blue wallpaper, a blue dresser, a blue quilt, a blue chair in the corner, and a large canvas with geometric circles painted on it in—you guessed it—blue hanging above the bed. The monochromatic effect is actually very soothing. And it’s not an aggressive blue; it’s more of a robin’s-egg blue.
His room is across the hall from mine, and there’s a suitcase on the floor with clothes spilling out of it.
I wander through the rest of the house, stopping in the dining nook. “What’s this?” I ask, gesturing to his laptop that’s sitting open on the table. There are lines and lines of code against a black screen.
He pushes it closed. “Nothing. It’s more of a hobby than anything.”
“Coding?” I ask, surprised.
His smile is lopsided, uncertain. “I picked it up in a summer camp years ago, and I don’t know, there’s something I enjoy about it—the absolutes. The certainty.”
“You just ... code for fun?”
He nods, running one hand over the back of his neck. “It’s weird, right?”
“It’s not weird,” I say.
“What would you like to do first?”
“What are the options?” I ask.
“Let’s see, we could ... go biking around the vineyard, taste some wine, visit the farmers’ market—they have a great cheese shop”—he hesitates, then pretend coughs into his fist—“get naked.” His mouth twitches. “I had to throw it in there.”
“You did, huh?” I laugh, shaking my head. I seem to do that a lot around him. I forgot how nice that feels. “How about the biking, and maybe I can try some of your family’s wine?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
We locate the bikes—which are beach cruiser–style in the garage—and set off. I haven’t biked in forever, and it’s more fun than I remember. The breeze in my hair. A cute guy beside me. He pedals faster, and I race to keep up with him, laughing. We cruise side by side down the dirt road that stretches through the center of the vineyard.
“Did you go to your friend’s baby shower yet?” he asks. “Scarlet, right?”
