“But the wine sucks.” He pulls away, making a disgusted face.
“The wine blows!” I laugh. “I bet Damon Albarn drinks fine wine. We’re Oasis. Cheap lager and crisps all the way.”
“Vinegar crisps.”
“I can do you one grosser.” I gag. “Prawn cocktail crisps.”
He is staring at me now, the way he used to, in Spain. Openly and without embarrassment. “This week was the first one in years where I’ve been genuinely happy.”
I smile. “Me too.”
“Do you feel guilty?” he asks.
“A little,” I admit. “You?”
“Nope.”
I don’t tell him what I’m thinking. That we both just found out Dom tried to ruin our lives . . . but that we still forgive him.
Because the wound is closed, and it’s time to move on.
TWENTY-SEVEN
I tell Dad and Donna that I have things to sort out in Salem.
It’s not a lie per se. I do have things to do in Salem.
I need to notify my landlord that Nora and I are breaking the lease. To officially move out of the pigsty also known as my apartment and remove the remainder of the furniture I left there, and I also need to give the Graveses the engagement ring back.
I don’t mention that I’m going to spend time with Joe. I don’t have to. They know he’s been in San Francisco this whole last week and can connect the dots themselves.
“Just don’t let the time there cloud your judgment.” Dad is standing at the door, holding his suitcase handle, looking worried. This is his way of saying, Please don’t turn your back on us again for dick. I hear him loud and clear.
“What he means to say is, don’t feel pressured to make a decision one way or the other.” Donna plays the good cop, giving Dad a playful shove. “We’re happy you’re choosing to go back to school, no matter where you’ll be.”
Renn bumps his shoulder against mine, ambling toward the door. “’Kay. ’Nuff talking. Dad, Donna, go away. I’ll drive Ever to SFO. Have fun. Buy us gifts. Expensive ones. Goodbye.”
He slams the door in their faces.
“Rude!” Dad points out from the other side of the door, and we laugh.
Renn turns to me, all business. “You all packed, sis?”
I nod, patting the duffel bag that I’m holding. Dad and Donna’s flight leaves from Oakland International Airport, so we couldn’t ride together.
“Finally. I’ll have the house to myself. Thank you, Big Guy.” Renn winks and points at the ceiling.
“You think having the house to yourself required divine intervention?” I raise an eyebrow.
Renn sighs. “It’s been really bad, Ev. These people have, like, no life at all. They’re always around.”
“There’s a solution for that,” I point out.
“Already thought about it.” Renn shakes his head. “I love them too much to kill them and make it look like a suicide pact.”
I laugh. “I mean rent an apartment, you jackass.”
“Excuse me?” Renn coughs, feigning shock. “This is San Francisco. I can’t even rent a storage locker.”
On the car ride to the airport, I ask, “Did you break up with that older chick?”
“I did, actually.”
“How’d she take it?”
“Too well for my fragile little ego.” He moves a toothpick around his mouth. “I think it was her wake-up call. She told me, ‘Oh my God, my boy toy is dumping me. I really did hit rock bottom.’”
“She sounds like a smart cookie,” I say, with all honesty. “Way too smart to be wasting time with your barely legal ass.”
He chuckles. “She decided to confront her husband as a result. They had a big blowup, and now they’re trying to work on their marriage. She quit her surfing lessons because her husband wasn’t comfortable with her being taught by a guy who knows what it feels like to put his dick into every hole in her body.”
“Surely, you could have told me this story without the last gross TMI bit.”
“Totally,” Renn agrees. “But where would be the fun in that? Good news is, the husband agreed to let go of the secretary he was screwing. In another universe this secretary and I hook up. I wonder if she is hot.” He frowns.
“Maybe. But in this universe, you’ll stick to girls your age. You know.” I side-eye him. “When I lived in Salem, I used to worry that your never-ending stream of girlfriends was due to mommy issues stemming from losing Mom when you were super young.”