I gape, frozen in place with a pair of muffin tongs in one hand and the other clutching a coffee mug for dear life.
Garrett. Back. Here.
My mouth drops open in shock. How is this possible? I had a whole countdown planned: his return date circled in red on my calendar at home — the calendar I haven’t looked at in weeks, I realize. The one currently buried under a mountain of trashy romance novels and teen movie DVDs. “I . . . I don’t . . .” I stutter, helpless.
LuAnn gives me a weird look. “That’s our Somali roast,” she says, stepping into the breach. “It pairs really well with our almond torte, if you’d like.”
Garrett turns to me. “What do you think, Sadie?”
“You guys know each other?” LuAnn brightens. “Why didn’t you say?”
Finally, my brain engages. “Garrett,” I manage. “He’s back. I mean, you’re back.”
“Surprise!” Garrett laughs. Before I can even think, he circles the counter and enfolds me in a massive hug. “I can’t believe it. The past six weeks have felt like a whole lifetime.”
I stay still, motionless in his arms.
Sure, I knew this day would come — but not yet! I was supposed to have time to strategize, to put a whole emergency plan in place before I was faced with this momentous occasion.
“Hi!” I finally manage, disentangling myself from his arms. Up close, he’s painfully familiar — the way his hair falls into his eyes, the perfectly sculpted cheekbones, the smudge of birthmark just above his right ear. There’s newness, too, though: a fuzz of blond stubble on his chin, tan lines on his wrist. “What are you doing here?” I manage. “I mean, you didn’t say you were coming home!”
“Just got in.” He exhales. “I spent six hours crammed up against a Hell’s Angel named Bubba, so God knows I need a shower, but I just had to come by and see you first. Man, I missed you.”
I blink up at him, reeling. Then I remember LuAnn, standing just two feet away from us. Aiko has arrived, too, watching us curiously as she ties on her apron.
I leap back. “I’m going to go get you some of that torte!” I exclaim. “You go sit down. Relax.”
“It’s OK. I don’t want to keep you. I just wanted to say hey.” Garrett’s still smiling, seemingly unconcerned by my babbling, clumsy performance. “But let’s hang out later. We could do a movie tonight. Annie Hall is playing in Northampton.”
“I don’t know. . . .” I try to think straight. “I was going to —”
“No excuses,” Garrett says, cutting me off. “Come on, it’s my first night back in town! You know how you love Woody Allen.” He gives me a mock puppy-dog look, and right away, everything rushes back to me — the late nights, the road trips. The way he can look at me like I’m the most important person in the world.
“OK,” I agree. “Tonight. I’ll see you then.”
“Great!” he says. “Pick you up at seven!”
I watch him lope away, still reeling from the change, from a ringtone on my phone, a face in photographs, a memory to this, flesh and blood, and back in town.
“Emergency staff meeting, now!” LuAnn announces. “Dominique! Aiko!”
She grabs my arm and drags me back toward the office. Carlos looks up in surprise as we barrel in.
“Sorry, we need the room,” LuAnn announces. “Shoo.”
“Shoo?” he repeats, looking at her with a mix of amazement and disbelief. “This is my office!”
“And we need to borrow it!” she replies. “Pretty please? You can go cover the register. It’s a girl thing,” she adds. “Let me find those tampons for heavy flow. . . .”
He leaps up. “Uh, sure. Take your time.” Carlos bolts so fast, he almost trips on his unlaced sneakers.
LuAnn laughs. “Every time . . .”
But the humor of men’s predictable aversion to girl talk is beyond me right now. I sink into Carlos’s seat, still dazed, and soon, LuAnn, Aiko, and Dominique are lined up opposite me. LuAnn holds out her phone. “I have Kayla on speaker, too.”
Kayla’s voice comes through, tinny on the tiny speaker. “So, what happened?”
“He’s back,” LuAnn says. “Just came right in like nothing had happened.”
“Some nerve.” Aiko tuts.
“He looks like an idiot to me,” Dominique adds, studying her nails.
Something about the way they’re lined up, united against him, fills me with a warm glow of friendship. I’m not alone in this.
“Thanks, guys,” I tell them, finally taking a deep breath. “It’s sweet of you to back me up, but . . . Garrett isn’t the enemy here. He never did anything wrong. It was all me.”
“Still, he hurt you!” LuAnn protests, eyes wide with outrage.
“But he’s my friend. That was the whole point of getting over him,” I remind them. “To keep him in my life. That means you’re going to have to be nice to him.”
Silence.
“I mean it,” I add, wondering if LuAnn is going to spike his coffee or spit in his food.
Finally, she sighs. “Fine, we’ll be nice.” Aiko nods in agreement.
Dominique shrugs. “Sure, whatever.”
I exhale. “OK, then.” After a moment, Kayla’s disembodied voice comes through the speaker.
“But how do you feel?”
They all look at me, expectant.
“I . . . I don’t know,” I say slowly. “I think I’m still in shock. I mean, I’ve been so focused on not thinking about him, I didn’t really plan for this part.” I look between them, lost. “What do I do now?”
“We need new rules,” LuAnn says immediately. “For having him back. Like, no spending time alone together. And definitely no hugging.”
“No romantic situations of any kind,” Aiko agrees. “No candlelight, sunsets, or places playing the Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ ‘Maps.’”
“You should stand him up a few times,” Dominique offers. “Make him see he can’t take you for granted anymore.”
“New rules . . .” I nod slowly.
“It’ll be OK.” Aiko gives me a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “You can do it!”
“She’s right,” LuAnn agrees. “You’ve come so far. This is, like, the last hurdle. It’ll be no problem now.”