Page 14 of It's Always Been You
California isn’t home anymore.
I tried to give my sisters a home because god knows they lost enough. And I think some days I even succeeded. But even though I was physically there with them, my mind was always a million miles away.
Even after a decade away, I know it deep in my bones.
Home is wherever Molly is.
Standing here on a new street in a new city, I feel like a thousand-pound weight has been lifted. Liv is almost done with her freshman year at Georgetown, and Amelia is settling intoher new life in Boston. The San Francisco house is sold, and all I have to do is make one quick trip back there next month to honor a commitment I made, and then I’ll be done with the city for good. Someone else is in charge of my first company, and all I have to do is call into a board meeting every now and then. My new company is about to be sold. I’m lucky enough to be able to be and have whatever I want.
All I really want is her.
For the first time in ten years, I got to look Molly in the face yesterday. Seeing her was a punch to the gut. The kind that knocks the wind out of you and makes you wonder if you’ll ever breathe again. At twenty-two, she was an absolute knockout. At thirty-two, she is spectacular. The dark curls I used to twirl around my fingers when she laid her head on my chest. The lips that would curve into a smirk right before she kissed me. The eyes that would lock on mine and make me feel everything. Eyes that were shades of blue and shades of green but never any one thing. They were one of a kind. Just like she is.
It shouldn’t have surprised me that I could read every emotion on her face when I saw her yesterday. She’s a part of me. I thought maybe I didn’t know her anymore. Maybe in some ways I don’t, but in the important ways, I think I do. I knew it as soon as I saw her face. I expected her to want to shove me right out the door, and some of her did. But there was another, albeit smaller, part of her that wanted to walk down those stairs to me. I saw it in the twitch of her ringless hand on the banister and the shuffle of her feet on the stairs, and that’s the part I’m clinging to. The part that has me counting the minutes until her office opens for the day so I can call and make an appointment with her gatekeepers.
I smile, thinking of the three women who blocked my entrance to the office. Her law partners. The feisty blonde, thesteel-spined redhead, and the mildly hostile brunette looked prepped and ready to go to battle for Molly.
And then there were the athletes. I would recognize them anywhere. Asher Hansley and Jeremy Wright. They looked ready to fight first and ask questions later. The blond guy I didn’t recognize looked like he could throw a punch if he wanted to but was more likely to sit down with me and talk it out. He radiatedI’m a good guy.
At first, I thought maybe one of those guys was hers, but I didn’t get that vibe. It was friendly and protective. Brotherly, almost.
I could read their body language. Saw the way all seven of them spoke to each other without actually speaking. They might not be related by blood, but I walked in on a family. I’m happy knowing she’s had these kinds of friends in her life. The kind that were there for her when I couldn’t be.
But now I can. I did the work and got through my shit, and now I want to be the guy who stands side-by-side with her. I don’t want to take her away from the life she’s built. I just want to be a part of it too. But I have to prove myself to Molly, and I know enough about women and the fascinating phenomenon of female friendship to know that I have to prove myself to them too.
And I will.
Probably.
I’m manifesting.
When you have six years of therapy in a place like San Francisco, you say things like manifesting.
What I mean is, I will get on my knees and grovel if I have to. And if I still know my girl, there will absolutely be some groveling involved.
I’m looking forward to it.
I always did like it when she made me beg.
My mind is so full of Molly that when I see her standing at a crosswalk half a block ahead of me, I think my brain is fucking with me. But then a car honks, and when she turns towards the noise, I see her profile. My heart bangs against my ribs because there she is.
Her hair is a tumbled mass of golden-brown curls—I see she still wears her signature stack of bracelets—and she’s carrying three different bags. She’s wearing a white dress covered in a multicolored array of flowers and the kind of sandals that have a cork bottom and straps that lace up and around her calves, highlighting the most amazing legs I have ever seen. I have the sudden, wild urge to feel them wrapped around my head.
Simmer down, Sullivan. Try saying hi first.
I’m supposed to make an appointment to see her, but she’s on the same street as me right now. I’m Northern Californian enough to know that when the universe tosses you a sign like this, you don’t turn it down. As soon as the light changes, I speed up so I can catch up with her.
Turns out the extra speed wasn’t necessary because she swings into a coffee shop on the next block.
Perfect. I’m due for another hit of caffeine anyway.
I step into the coffee shop and get in line right behind her. Before I can consider what to say to her, my mouth just starts making words.
“Fancy meeting you here.”
Shit, Gabe. Be better.
I can’t even be all that surprised I’m already shitting the bed on this. It’s a common occurrence. I may have founded a mega-successful company, but in actuality, I’m just a superhero T-shirt wearing, Lego-building geek who gets tongue-tied in front of pretty girls. Well, one pretty girl specifically.
