Sarah Mackey,” Jenni said. “Where have you been? I’ve been calling you.”
I slid off my leather sandals and perched on the edge of a barstool. “Sorry. I left my phone on silent. Are you okay?”
Jenni ducked my question, padding off to get us some water. “I can fix you a soft drink if you prefer,” she said, handing me a glass. Her eyes were bloodshot and I could tell she’d been in bed since she’d got back from work.
Promptly, I burst into tears.
“What’s happening?” Jenni came back over. She smelled of coconut shampoo and marshmallow skin. “Sarah . . ?”
How could I explain this squalid, sorry mess to a woman who’d just lost her last, cherished hope of a family? It was unthinkable. She would listen to me, and she would be horrified. And then crushed, because there would be nothing—absolutely nothing—she could do to solve it for me.
“Tell me,” Jenni said sternly.
“It was all fine at the doctor’s,” I lied, after a long interval. I blew my nose. “Fine. There are blood tests to come, but everything’s okay.”
“Okay . . .”
“But . . . I—”
My phone started ringing.
“It’s Eddie,” I said, diving blindly around the room for my phone.
“What?” Jenni, suddenly capable of lightning reflexes, plucked it out of my bag and hurled it at me. “Is that him?” she asked. “Is that Eddie?”
And my chest drummed with pain, because it was, and the situation was unbearable. I could never be with him. I had found him at last, and we had no future.
“Eddie?” I said.
There was a pause, and then there was his voice, saying hello. Just like I had dreamed it would, only this time it was real. Familiar and strange, perfect and heartbreaking. His voice.
My own held just long enough for me to say yes, I could meet him tomorrow morning, and yes, Santa Monica Beach was fine; I’d meet him by the bike-rental place just south of the pier at ten.
“I was beginning to think it was a lie that LA’s on the ocean,” he said. He sounded tired. “I’ve been driving around for days and haven’t seen it once.”
And then the call was over and I curled myself into the corner of Jenni’s couch and cried like a child.
