“Can I come in?”
“Sure.”
I stepped inside, closed the door behind me, and followed her into the living room. It seemed strange the way our relationship had changed, yet everything in this room had remained exactly the way I remembered it. Even the big cushy reading chair was in the same place, covering that ugly brown paint stain on the old Persian rug we’d purchased at an antique store for next to nothing. The chair was a recliner, but it had been out of commission ever since that night I was studying for the bar exam, when Jenna had climbed in with me, tossed my outlines aside, and nearly set the thing on fire, figuratively speaking.
“Have a seat,” she said.
I started toward the memory chair, then thought better of it and took a seat on the couch.
“Want a soda? Beer?”
“No, thanks. I just wanted to talk.”
She took a seat on the ottoman, on the other side of the cocktail table. “How’s your job hunting coming?”
“I’ve narrowed it down to two medium-sized firms in the Gables. Both good groups of people. And they all seem to have a life outside the law firm. Imagine that, huh?”
“That would be a good move for you.”
I nodded. “I saw the ‘Sold’ sign out front.”
She blinked and said, “Oh, that.”
“Yeah, that.”
“The deal’s not even inked yet, and my agent put that out. She’s fed up with me. Said that if I kill the deal this time, she’s quitting.”
“Kill the deal?”
“This is actually the third full-price offer I’ve received this month. I’ve managed to wiggle out each time.”
“Sounds like you’re not really sure about this move,” I said, hopeful.
She looked away, then back. “I’m all over the map, literally. When I think about the low times, I feel like packing. Then I’ll find something while I’m going through my stuff. A piece of jewelry or one of those mushy cards you used to write me in your own words. I’m totally confused.”
My throat tightened. I had plenty to tell her, but I didn’t want to say the wrong thing. “I don’t want you to go.”
“Is that what you came here to tell me?”
“That, and a lot of things.”
“Like what?”
“I–I didn’t prepare a speech. I was kind of hoping you’d get all Jerry Maguire on me and tell me I had you at hello.”
That got a smile, then a little laughter. We’d seen the movie a few years earlier on one of our first dates, and she’d clearly remembered it as well as I had. “Every now and then, you get me right in the funny bone, you know that?”
Her smile faded, and our eyes met. “What are you thinking?” she asked.
“That I always want to make you laugh. That I wish you’d give us a second chance. That if you insist on trying to sell this place, I’m going to put a full-page ad in the paper saying it’s haunted.”
“Funny. That’s exactly what I told the last buyer to get myself out of the deal.”
“What do you say we go out and talk about this over a couple of drinks?”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Anything but a Dark ‘n’ Stormy.”
“Mojitos?”
“Now you’re talking.”
She grabbed her sweater, and we started for the door. “I know a new place over on South Beach. Best Mojito you ever had,” she said.
“Really?”
“I guarantee it.”
She locked the front door, and we walked toward my Jeep. “That wouldn’t be a lifetime guarantee, would it?” I asked.
She climbed into her seat, shooting me a playful look. “One step at a time, bozo.”
“Sure,” I said as I turned the ignition. “Sounds good to me. Really good.”