He pauses, then adds, “I’ll text you Shay’s address there, so you can come by anytime, yeah?” He laughs, but I can hear hope in his voice. “Be well, Ms. Patterson.”
I’ve listened to that voicemail countless times since he left it almost a month ago. It brought tears to my eyes the first dozen times I heard it. Because it meant my fantasies that we’d somehow cross paths and then reconnect based on happenstance rather than any active effort on either of our parts would never happen. I’ve been too afraid to reach out to him. And too afraid that he’d try to reach out with more than phone calls. Afraid, because seeing him again would surely lead me to want to try some kind of relationship. There are far too many reasons why this is a terrible idea. And yet, it has never left the realm of possibilities in my mind.
I got the push I needed to finally take action when a couple weeks after my talk with Conor in that café, I received a package in the mail. I was at my office, packing things up. I’d decided to take a six-month hiatus in order to understand how I’d gotten off-track with my training. The closeness I allowed with Daniel was the first indication that I had allowed my judgment to be compromised. But the way I handled things with Felicity was just beyond the pale. My “good intentions” mattered little when I finally realized that bending the rules without the client’s consent is a violation of trust. I wasn’t sure what I would do, but I had enough savings to sort it out.
The quick knock on my office’s outer door was the telltale sign of a delivery. Those guys never stick around, only drop the package and go. I picked up the box and took it into my inner office and sat in my usual chair. Inside was the Ella Fitzgerald vinyl I’d recommended to Conor. I touched the front of the cover gently and smiled at the unexpected gesture. The note with it was handwritten:
Music has always healed me when I needed it. I hope this does you some good.
Another thing—in us you’ve found yourself a group of imperfect, but good people.
You’re welcome to join our club.
— Conor
The message struck so deeply, that I went straight from packing up the office to buying an airplane ticket to San Francisco.
And now my stomach is in knots as I sit in a taxi being driven from the airport to an area called the Marina District, toward Shay’s house. I didn’t call ahead. I just did what Daniel suggested and decided to show up. It’s what he would do, I realize. Maybe that’s why I’m so drawn to him, because he eschews norms and rules and I’ve long wanted that kind of freedom myself—though I haven’t understood that until recently. If I analyzed myself half as well as I do others, I’d see that my lifelong attempt to be the perfect daughter has finally made me reach a breaking point. I’ve been eager to find a way to slough off the expectations and pressure I’ve felt for so many years. Closing my business and making a sudden trip to the States is such a crazy thing to do, I think to myself with a laugh.
The taxi driver glances at me in the rearview mirror and I wonder what he sees. I changed out of my comfortable travel clothes and into a red pencil skirt and casual white cotton top, mindful that Daniel always liked to look at my legs. I play with my gold necklaces, unable to stop my nerves.
“This is it,” the driver says.
I look out the window and see a gorgeous three-story home that faces an expansive view of the Bay. It’s a clear, sunny day and I still can’t believe that I’m here. I force myself to go through the motions of paying my fare and retrieving my bag. But then I stand on the sidewalk for more than five minutes, trying to decide what on earth I’ll say.
I was just in the neighborhood.
Too cute.
I couldn’t stop missing you. This probably won’t ever work, but I want to try.
Too much.
I’ll take you up on that drink now.
Maybe . . .
Sighing, I turn toward the door and ring the bell, my heart pounding as I hear light footsteps coming toward me. When the door opens, it’s a woman who eyes me curiously. She’s striking, with a mix of African and Asian heritages. I assume this is Jessica, the woman Daniel had admitted to terrifying when he was strung out. He said he’d always hesitated to be around her after that, uncertain that she’d ever get over that encounter. It’s a good sign that she’s welcomed him into her home.
“Hi,” I say. “My name is Amelia Patterson. I’m a friend of Daniel’s.”
“Um,” she says, hesitating.
“Danny Boy,” I clarify, realizing there aren’t many people who call him Daniel.
“Oh, yes, of course. He’s not in right now, though,” she says.
“I see. Well, it was silly of me not to call ahead.”
Jessica glances down at my roller bag. “He and Shay should be back soon. Why don’t you come in?”
“Eh, only if it’s no trouble. I don’t want to put you off of whatever you were doing.”
Opening the door wider, she gestures for me to come in. “No trouble at all. Oh, I’m Jessica, by the way.”
“Good to meet you,” I say and follow her upstairs after she closes the door.
The home is stunning, offering even better views from the upper floor, including the iconic Golden Gate Bridge.
Jessica takes my bag and stows it in a hall closet, before suggesting I sit at the kitchen island while she makes me tea.
“Did you just come from the airport? You must be exhausted,” she says.“I think my nerves are overriding any of that,” I admit.
She smiles and it’s clear she recognizes my unannounced appearance here for what it is: a grand romantic gesture.
I’m thankful she doesn’t press the issue and instead starts setting out milk and sugar for a cup of tea, just the way we Irish like it. She’s being a good hostess by automatically offering tea, though I would have preferred coffee. I wouldn’t dare be so rude as to say so. When she sits with me, her tee shirt stretches across her belly, showcasing a revealing bump that I can’t help but stare at with a smile.
She covers her belly with her hand and returns my smile. “We haven’t told anyone yet,” she says.
“I won’t say a word,” I promise. “But congratulations. How wonderful for you.”
“It’s very exciting, but I can’t wait to share the news. My parents are going to be thrilled. And my brothers, too.”
She’s clearly eager to talk about this momentous life change, and I’m pleased to let her. It takes my mind off the nerves I have.
But then the door downstairs opens, and I can hear Daniel saying something about promising he’ll give Roscoe a bath. Then he’s getting closer as he ascends the stairs. My heartbeats are loud thuds and I feel my cheeks go red as I wait for him to see me.
When his eyes finally meet mine, he smiles so wide that I have no doubt about how he feels about my unexpected appearance. Then there’s a glisten in his eyes as he says, “My dear Ms. Patterson.”
“Daniel,” I say in return, standing.
He rushes to me, enveloping me in a hug that overwhelms me at first. But just as quickly, I relax into his arms and savor the feel of his body against mine. As odd as it may seem, we just fit together.
Pulling away, he holds my face in his hand and examines me.
“You’re really here?” he asks.
“I heard somewhere that they do a good Irish coffee here.”
He laughs, his smile lingering as he takes me in. “I never dared to dream this, but in a way, it’s all I ever hoped for.”
“Hello, Amelia,” Shay says.
It takes me a long second to tear my eyes away from Daniel. Shay is watching me. Not just watching me but assessing me. He’s someone who can make you feel like he’s examining your soul. I wonder what he sees in mine.
And then he leans in to give me a kiss on the cheek as a proper greeting. As he pulls away, he says, “Good to have you here. Stay as long as you like.”
“Oh, I was planning on getting a hotel—”
“Whatever suits you is fine,” he says. Then he turns an
d claps Daniel on the back, telling him, “Clean up your dog before you let him in the house.” He takes Jessica’s hand and they slip away, leaving us alone.
I look up at Daniel, see his unfiltered joy and know that my expression mirrors his. This leap I’ve taken by coming here is scary and exciting and I’m so glad I did it.
Still, I need him to know what he’s getting into with me. “You should know,” I say, “that I’m not all that you think I am. I’ve . . . I’ve made some mistakes and I’m trying to sort things.”
“I’ve made plenty of mistakes,” he says dismissively.
“I’m serious. I should probably never have come here, not when my life and career are so in flux.”
“What did you do that was so wrong?”
“Well, for one, I crossed professional boundaries. Definitely with you and with another client.”
He watches me for a moment, his face a mask of confusion. “My dear Ms. Patterson,” he says, “I knew from the start that we weren’t doing traditional therapy. That’s why it fucking worked. Don’t you ever second-guess what you did with me.”
I’m thrown by this. “You . . . knew?”
“Of course, I did. I’ve seen all kinds of shrinks over the years. I know their game. You’re the only one who has ever gotten through to me here.” He points to his head. “And here.” He points to his heart.
“Oh.” I’m still surprised that he understood my process. I wonder if there wasn’t a part of Felicity that saw it as well but went along with it anyway, knowing it was helping her. Not that that excuses my actions, however.
“You look beautiful,” he says, looking me up and down. “Tell me you wore the skirt just for me.”
I laugh. “I did.”
“Sorry I’m so grubby. We went for this fantastic walk. I’ll have to take you there. There are so many things I want to show you. And I bet Shay will take us out for a sail. That’ll be amazing. You won’t believe how fast the boat goes. Maybe we’ll see dolphins as we go.”
“Daniel,” I say. “Slow down.”
He laughs. “I can’t. I can’t stop thinking of all we’ll do together. There’s great neighborhoods we can explore, and some restaurants in Chinatown you’ll die for, ridiculous ‘Irish pubs’, and hikes, and—”
I stop him with a kiss. I don’t mind all the ideas he’s conjured of what we’ll do together. I just want, for now, to be in the moment.
And that moment includes the sudden and very pleasant rush of heat filling my body as he holds me to him and kisses me like I’m the girl he’s been waiting for all his life. I surrender to the moment, to him. I feel dizzy when he pulls away.
He shakes his head, smiling. “Better than I even imagined it, Amelia.”
Amelia. That’s the shift we needed. Him calling me that makes me feel like we can really try this.
“Me too, Daniel,” I say and when he laughs it’s pure delight.
It makes me feel that, as imperfect as I am, as imperfect as the way this relationship has come about, it’s still good.
About the Author
Lara Ward Cosio is the author of the Rogue Series - books that feature complex, flawed, and ultimately redeemable rockers, and the women they love. When not writing, Lara can be found chasing her daughters around the house or at the beach, always with music on in the background.
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