I can’t look at him. I’m frozen, waiting for an answer. Praying I haven’t just embarrassed myself as much as it already feels like I have.
Seth puts a hand on my shoulder, and it sends my cortisol levels back down. His touch has always had an incredible, miraculous power to make me feel calm.
I gather the courage to glance at him, and something is flickering in his face, and I hope.
I hope.
When he doesn’t immediately say yes, I stutter out more. “Or, I could grab a flight to Chicago. Stay with Dez. We could hang out, and maybe—”
“Molls,” he finally says, so very softly, so very kindly, “I’ve met someone.”
The breath rushes out of me.
“Oh!” I say. “Oh, okay, sorry!”
“No worries.” He takes his hand off my shoulder. “You’re sweet.”
Sweet. Kill me.
I merge into the lane for departing flights.
“What airline?” I ask. I arrange my lips into a flat line, and check in the rearview mirror to make sure that they don’t quiver.
“American,” he says.
I nod.
It takes fifteen excruciating minutes to weave through the traffic to his terminal, and neither of us says another word.
I stop the car.
“Well, this is you.”
He bends over and kisses my cheek. I close my eyes.
“Be well, Molls,” he murmurs into my ear.
I manage to wait until he grabs his bag from the back before I start to cry.
PART FOUR
February 2020
CHAPTER 18 Seth
Her name is Sarah Louise Taylor, and she’s absolutely perfect for me in every way.
We met back in August, at a Legal Aid fundraiser. She’s a Cook County public defender, a stressful, low-paying job that she adores because she loves justice, fairness, and equality with her whole heart. She inspires me. With her encouragement, I’m putting the steps in motion to open the nonprofit legal clinic I’ve been toying with starting for years.
She’s a distance runner—she qualified for the Boston Marathon this year for the fourth time—and we get up early every Saturday morning and go on long runs together. (My pace is quite leisurely by her standards, but she’s helping me improve. I now have the lung capacity of an eighteen-year-old.)
She grew up working on her parents’ farm in Kansas, and is an incredible vegan cook devoted to using local produce. This is obviously difficult in the long Chicago winter, but you would not believe what she can do with preserved lemons and roasted beets. I haven’t eaten meat in months.
She’s an only child and longs for a big family with kids and dogs and relatives running around. She can’t wait to get pregnant—she thinks she’ll love the experience of creating a life inside her body, being so close to someone she loves so much. We spend a lot of time talking about what we’ll name our kids. (Current favorites are Jane, after Sarah’s mom, and Sam, after my godfather.)
She’s generous and intuitive in bed, and on Sundays we stay in and make love. She likes to lock eyes, go slow, check in. The first time we had sex, she cried, and it made me cry too.
Her apartment is filled floor-to-ceiling with pictures of the people close to her—frames crowding on frames of treasured friends and family. Because who could meet Sarah Louise Taylor and not fall head over heels in love with her?
Certainly not me.
Currently, Sarah is in Milwaukee at a conference, which has afforded me a prime opportunity for a boys’ weekend in New York with Jon and Kevin. Sarah thinks I’m here to enjoy restaurants and theater with old friends. In fact, I’m here to buy her an engagement ring under the guidance of two people who have much better taste than I do.
It’s only been six months, but we are both ready to settle down. I know she’ll say yes.
Jon and Kevin meet me for brunch at my hotel in Union Square, and we all exchange bear hugs. Jon and Kevin both live in Brooklyn, and even though it’s a short flight from Chicago to New York, we don’t see one another more than a few times a year. I’m envious of their proximity to each other. I have lots of buddies in Chicago, but for some reason, I don’t have a best friend.
They look great. Jon’s silver fox hair is swept back in a more fashionable cut than he usually wears, and he looks like he’s added a few pounds of muscle to his slender physique. I’m sure all his students have crushes on him. Kevin’s grown a rather dapper mustache, waxed at the corners, and his huge Tom Selleck frame is clad in one of his looks—a fashion editor to his core, he always wears looks—today’s involving a frayed asymmetrical sweater and leather pants.
“So how is the illustrious Sarah Louise?” Jon asks.
“The dream and the vision,” Kevin intones.
“I miss her,” Jon says. “And I’ve only met her once.”
“I miss her, and I haven’t even met her,” Kevin says.
I grin. “We should fix that. Maybe I’ll bring her here for our engagement trip.”
