Page 6 of Second Chance Vacation

“Not in a long time.”

Her pouting somehow manages to travel through the phone.

“But you’ve been, and you’ll go again. I’d invite you, but Wes wants me to meet a girl, so I doubt you’d want to attend.”

“Aren’t you a little old to be playing Wes’s wingman?”

“It’s not like that. He’s pretty settled with Savannah. It’s just a friend of theirs that Savannah seems dead set on me meeting.”

“Oh? Is she some uppity socialite?”

“You’re friends with those uppity socialites.”

“Was. I’m part of the working class now, my friend, apron and all.”

“One waitressing job does not a working class make.”

“Tell that to my bank account.”

“Call Mom.”

“Fuck off,” Hannah snips with playfulness in her voice.

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, I gotta go, Han. But hang in there, okay? It’ll work out. I have faith you’ll find a job soon. It only takes one yes.” Grabbing my duffle off the passenger seat, I gather my belongings.

“Bye, traitor.”

Yeah, yeah.

Click.

Tightening the hold on the keys to my rental car, I gaze up at what will be my home for the foreseeable future—or at least until I start my new job and have the income to show on paper. Don’t get me wrong, I have money, but not the earned income that most landlords and banks require. The air of sweet home Americana is evident, looking at the bright blue shutters and white siding. The wrap-around porch is nestled behind two dogwood trees framing the property.

Wes told me he wouldn’t be home when I arrived, which I find to be a relief. The summer heat causes my shirt to stick to my skin, leaving me aching for a shower. If for nothing else than to enjoy the water against my skin. Eight hours really seems shorter in concept than when you’re actually driving it. I flip over the ceramic frog in the flower bed and can’t resist shaking my head. For someone so smart, he really can be an idiot.

Is he looking to get robbed?

As I step foot through the threshold, I allow myself to let out a breath for the first time in what feels like my entire trip to Atlanta. Something about the house Wes bought gives me a sense of home. Whether it is the classic Georgia architecture or that he bought it from an older couple and hasn’t really made many changes, it reminds me of my parent’s house back home.

A pang builds in my chest at the reminder that I haven’t seen my family since Christmas. I typically see my parents during the summer on our annual trip to the Parks’ beach house, but between waiting for my Bar results and my impending move, I didn’t have the time this year. We are really close, so choosing not to visit feels wrong. Hannah made sure to call me every night to remind me just how obnoxious she finds Liam, the Parks’ son, though. It is safe to say I missed little outside of their typical bickering. She called me so much that it seemed like I was there too.

Coming to Atlanta early is something I almost considered forgoing. I feel like I will get my mother’s wrath for going on a trip with friends but turning down the family trip back in June, but the circumstances are different. I finally heard about my Bar results and could finally make some plans for a move. Flopping my suitcase onto Wes’s guest bed, I sift through the front pocket. We are leaving for Saint-Tropez in the morning, so I am doing my best not to disturb my organized chaos. I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that I just drove eight hours thanks to the traffic jam on I-85 and will sit on a trans-Atlantic flight in less than twelve hours.

I considered driving a U-Haul from Raleigh, but after the drive I just endured, I am glad I didn’t. The movers are, at this very moment, packing up my apartment back in Raleigh to have everything delivered to a storage unit here in Atlanta while we are out of town. Between the craziness of waiting for my bar exam results and my impending start at Baker & Park, I need this vacation. I dart straight into the ensuite bathroom to turn on the water to take a much-needed shower.

The face staring back at me in the mirror makes me look every bit my twenty-seven years. I would even argue older at this moment. As the water finally reaches the desired temperature, I hear the front door click closed. It sounds like I am going to be waiting to shower until later. I am excited to see Wes, but man, I just need some time to relax.

“Hey man, you here?” Wes’s distinct voice echoes through the open floor plan down on the main floor. I thought he was supposed to be back later, but I also know his schedule at the hospital can be unpredictable. It has become evident that I will not get an inkling of relaxation before we board this plane.

“Yeah—I’ll be down in a sec.” I sigh, flipping the water into the off position.

THREE

GEN

I don’t know why I allowed Savannah to talk me into this trip. What I should be doing is getting prepped for the fall semester, not sitting on top of my suitcase, trying to force it shut because Savannah insists I bring an asinine amount of sun dresses and every bathing suit I own.

Like seriously, who brings six bathing suits on a two-week-long vacation?

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