Page 109 of You, with a View

My mind drifts back to Theo. Him in that backyard, alone. Me, walking away.

“Hey, and think about it—you have that job in Tahoe this week,”Mom says, interrupting my thought. “That wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t go, and I’m sure there’ll be more where that comes from.”

“Of course you’d mention the job,” I say without heat.

“I love you, but I’d also love my Peloton room back.”

I laugh, wiping at my face. “I’m working on it.”

“Love you, Beans,” Dad says, and they both lean in to hug me tight. It mends something torn inside of me.

“Thank you,” I whisper, kissing their cheeks in turn.

Their support is endless, and somehow it just makes me ache that much harder for Theo. I want him to have this, too, from me. I just don’t know how to get through to him.

I don’t hear from Theo on Tuesday, and by Wednesday I’m restless. I leave for Tahoe tomorrow, but I’m afraid if I sit around, I’ll end up at his door, begging him to open up. Literallyandfiguratively.

Somehow, I wind up at Paul’s door instead.

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, then relax as he smiles. “Noelle, come in.”

For the third day in a row, I start crying, and his smile crumbles. He lets out a soft tut of concern, gathering me into a hug.

“I missed you,” I say by way of explanation, resting my chin against his cardigan-covered shoulder.

That’s only part of it. I miss Theo. I miss being in our bubble, listening to Paul’s voice telling stories. I miss the magic of that life, even as I recognize I’m building something special in this one, too.

He pets my hair, leaning a soft cheek against my temple. “I missed you, too, sweetheart. Please come in, all right? Let’s sit.”

He leads me to the living room, and I try not to look anywhere that’ll remind me of Theo. Not at the gallery wall with all thepictures of him, younger with a smile more easily handed over; not at the back deck where I walked out on him playing gardener, displaying that beautiful back my fingers have since traced every curve and dip of. It’s even hard to look at Paul right now—it’s Theo’s face in sixty years.

“I’m sorry I just showed up. I should’ve called or something.”

Or at least made sure Theo wasn’t here, though part of me desperately wants him to be. Other than a baseball game playing quietly on the TV, the house is still.

Paul sits at the end of the couch, angling to better face me as I plop down.

“It’s absolutely fine. I do have my poker buddies coming over later, but we have time.”

I nod and run my hands over my thighs. “I don’t know if you’ve talked to Theo...”

“Yes, of course,” he says, his expression turning somber.

“I didn’t come here to pump you for information, or even talk about him.” I swear disappointment flashes in Paul’s eyes as he nods. “I... actually, I was hoping I could read the last letter you mentioned.”

His face brightens. “Ah, I was waiting for this.”

He reaches under his coffee table, where a stack of photography books lie. He pulls the top one out and opens it to a page that has a gorgeous landscape photo of Zion. Angels Landing to be exact, where I was so high up I felt like I could reach Gram. A shiver runs down my spine; on top of that lies a letter, though it doesn’t look nearly as timeworn as the others.

Paul nods his head toward it, and I take it, unfolding the three pages carefully.

“I’m not sure if you remember me telling you Kathleen sent Vera and me a wedding gift and a note?”

It takes me a second to pluck the memory out of my mind. “You mentioned it the first day of our trip.”

“Yes, exactly. Now, some of this won’t be relevant because it’s her gossiping about our old college friends. But I would love it if you’d read the part where she talks about you.”

My breath catches in my chest. “She talks about me?”

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