Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 125135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
“You were?”
“Yeah, I’m coming into town for a night next week. I have an interview in the City for a research grant I’m trying to get. I thought maybe I’d stop by the apartment building you guys bought and check it out and say hi to everyone while I’m there. You all live in the building, right?”
“We do. Which night are you coming?”
“Wednesday. My interview is early Thursday morning.”
“Where are you staying?”
“I didn’t book a hotel yet. I just got the call about the interview yesterday afternoon.”
“Stay with me.” I shook my head. “I mean, you can stay with us. We use one of the units in the building for short-term rentals. We’re testing out renting it as an Airbnb. The rates are higher, and so far the demand seems to be there.”
“Oh, wow. Do you think it’s open next Wednesday for the night?”
If it isn’t, I’ll be canceling a reservation. “I’m pretty sure it is.”
“Alright. That would be great. Then I can see you guys and won’t have to rush to find my hotel. I get so lost in Manhattan.”
“Are you driving or taking the train?”
“I think I’m going to drive.”
“I’ll text you a good place to park near the building that isn’t too expensive.”
“Perfect. Thanks so much, Holden. I’m looking forward to seeing you guys.”
After I hung up, I stared at my phone for a while. Growing up, my mom’s favorite saying was, There’s no such thing as a coincidence. I never paid it much attention, but right now, I was kind of hoping she was right…
***
I hadn’t gone on Facebook in probably two years. But that’s exactly where I found myself after getting home from the bar with a buzz at midnight and re-reading the letter I’d written to myself three times. One sentence in particular I read over and over:
If Lala is single when you get this, and you still haven’t taken your shot, you’re a giant pussy.
I typed Laney Ellison into the search bar and frowned at the profile picture that popped up. It was of her and Dr. Douchebag, so I grabbed another beer. The photo must’ve been taken the day she’d gotten engaged, because the cardigan-wearing scientist had one arm wrapped around her shoulder, and she was holding her hand out to the camera, showing off a ring. I zoomed in on her finger as I guzzled back half my beer. That’s a fucking pebble. Lala deserves a rock.
It made me dislike Dr. Douchebag even more that he hadn’t bought her a decent ring. “Cheap bastard,” I muttered and clicked over to the rest of her photos.
The next picture was of her graduating Brown with her PhD. Her mom and dad stood proudly by her side. I zoomed in and noticed the small cross around her neck. It had been Ryan’s, a gift from his parents when he’d made his first communion—the same day as me. He used to wear it all the time. After he died, Lala put it on, but I hadn’t realized she was still wearing it. I wasn’t surprised. Those two weren’t like most siblings. Ryan and Lala had actually gotten along, even when they were younger, before his diagnosis. He’d been super protective of her. Hence the reason that on one of his final days, he’d asked me to keep an eye on his little sister…but not “too good of an eye.” My buddy was probably looking down right now, cursing me just for stalking.
I clicked over to the next picture, and my eyes grew wide. Holy shit. Bully is still alive! Ryan had adopted that fat bulldog when we were in high school, so it had to be at least fifteen by now. I couldn’t believe he was still kicking. The picture showed Lala kneeling in front of the Christmas tree with one arm around Bully, and the dog was wearing a Christmas sweater. If Ryan wasn’t already pissed off that I was stalking his baby sister, this photo of his dog wearing a sweater was certainly gonna do it. I raised my beer can to the sky. “Sorry, buddy. I didn’t know.”
I spent the next fifteen minutes going through the rest of Lala’s photos, though I may have stalled on one in particular for most of that time. There was a shot of Lala in a bikini. She’d always been beautiful, with a nice figure, but the years that had passed since I’d stolen glances of her in a bathing suit in Ryan’s backyard had turned the skinny girl into a woman with dangerous curves. Curves that would definitely get me into trouble if I went too close.
When I clicked onto the very last picture, it felt like the breath had been knocked out of my lungs. It was of Ryan and Lala sitting on a piece of driftwood on the beach, and I was the one who’d taken it. Ryan had no hair from his third round of treatments. I remember he wasn’t supposed to be released from the hospital for a few more days, but he’d convinced everyone to let him go early so he could spend his twenty-second birthday with his crew. Me, Owen, Brayden, Colby, Ryan, and Lala had driven to Ocean City—the place we’d all gone to after prom that had so many good memories. We’d spent the entire day on the beach and then made a bonfire, which didn’t go out until after the sun came up. It was a day I’d never forget, especially because it was the last good day we’d all have for a while since Ryan passed away the very next night.