Love You More(60)

“Very cool,” Dean says.

Her face grows somber. “My mom used to say I’d make a great lawyer because I’m good at arguing.”

Used to.

My breath catches.

“Ugh. Not a lawyer!” Dean groans, smiling.

“What’s wrong with lawyers?” she asks.

“They sue doctors.”

Phoebe grins.

“Plenty of lawyers help people,” I say. “You’d be the good kind.”

Phoebe turns to Dean. “You’re a doctor like Billie, right?”

Dean nods. “That’s right.”

“What kind are you?”

“I’m a trauma surgeon,” he says. “I work in the ER.”

She tilts her head. “What’s the hardest thing you do?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a resuscitative thoracotomy.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s when you open the chest to try to get the heart going again or clamp the aorta.”

Phoebe flinches. I cover her hand with mine.

Dean meets my eyes for a beat, then turns back to Phoebe.

“I know your mom’s doctors did everything they could,” he says.

She nods, her eyes filling.

I fight the instinct to change the subject and let the emotion settle. “You’d make a wonderful doctor, Feebs,” I say.

She gives a sad smile, then sits up straighter.

I smile back. “Or a nurse, or a vet, or anything you set your mind to.”

Halfway through dinner, Dean clears his throat and says, “So, Phoebe—any chance you like Noah Kahan? I was offered box seats to his show at Madison Square Garden in July.”

Her head snaps up, her eyes shining. “I love Noah Kahan.”

“Then I’d better take the tickets,” he says. “You can come visit.”

“Is Madison Square Garden in New York City?”

“It is.”

“That would be incredible,” she says, suddenly sounding older—more like a teenager. “I love New York. Mom and I visited Billie there once. It was so fun.”

“What was your favorite part?” he asks.

“Central Park. Serendipity. All of it.”

“You should come back soon for a weekend visit,” he says. “We could catch a Broadway show, visit the Natural History Museum. You could even stay longer if you wanted—”

I shoot him a look.

“Could I move there?” Phoebe asks, looking from Dean to me. “And live with you?”

“I guess anything’s possible,” I say. “But I think you’re better off staying here.”

“Why?” Phoebe asks.

“Well…wouldn’t you miss your friends, your teachers, and Gram?”

And Mick.

“I could visit them.”

“Yes. But you could also visit New York,” I say.

“But it would be so fun to actually live there! Like Riley in Girl Meets World! She has the best life. Riding the subway with her friends, hanging out at Topanga Cafe. Wait—is that a real place?”

“Topanga Cafe? I don’t think so,” Dean says. “But there are plenty of really cool coffee shops all over the city.”

“I want to move there!” Phoebe says, her eyes bright. “Please?”

“We can talk about it more later,” I say, giving Dean a look.

“Billie’s right,” Dean says. “That’s a conversation for another time.”

“Okay,” she says with a sigh.

I bite the inside of my cheek and look back over the lake.



* * *



— Just as we’re finishing dinner, my phone buzzes in my purse. I slide my hand past lip balm and a folded receipt and fish it out.


Mick: Call me. Emergency.

“Excuse me,” I say, aiming for casual and missing.

I step off the patio and tap Mick’s name.

He answers before I hear a ring. “Billie.” His breath is ragged. “Joan wandered off—”

I cup my hand around my mouth. “Wandered off?”

“She’s not here. I ran a couple errands. When I got back, she was gone.”

“Did she take the car?”

“No. It’s still here.”

Behind him, glass rattles. A door slams.

“Well then, she couldn’t have gotten far,” I say, willing my voice to stay measured as my mind sprints—fading light, sundowning, dark streets. “Did you call 911?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” I say. “We’re on the way.”

When I get back to the table, I swallow my panic. “Gram wandered off,” I say. “We need to help look for her.”

Phoebe’s eyes narrow with frightened resolve.

Dean is already halfway out of his chair, pulling his wallet from his back pocket. The waitress appears.

“Can we get the check, please—quickly,” he says.

“We’re having an emergency,” I add, smoothing over the New York directness.

She nods, vanishes, returns with the bill in seconds.

Dean barely glances at the total, slides a hundred inside. “Keep the change.”