How to Honeymoon Alone

I stare at it for a solid minute, as if I can’t really believe it’s there. I’m not sure I want to find out what’s inside.

Ziggy. Right.

I grab the envelope and jump into my car. My heart is beating fast as I open it, accidentally tearing through the beautiful stamp. I pull out the postcard and several twenty-dollar bills come with it. One of the twenties is a bit crumpled in the corner.

What?

The postcard has a picture of a turtle on it. That makes me smile because, of course, he’d chosen that one. I flip it over.

Eden,

Please find the money you paid me back for our first dinner enclosed. You said you couldn’t let me pay for it, because that would have made it a date. Well, this is me saying it was. Our first.

These weeks with you have been some of my happiest. I know you’re still getting over an ex, and you just wanted a rebound, not to mention the long-distance thing. But all I know, standing here and writing a postcard because you had this wild idea (and I can’t seem to say no to any of your wild ideas), is that I need to see you again.

My phone number is below. One text from you, and I can be on the next plane out to Washington.

Phillip.

I read through it one more time before I carefully place the postcard, envelope, and the bills that had once been mine on the passenger seat.

I drive to Becky’s house in a haze. The route is familiar and, maybe that’s a bad thing because it gives my brain space to turn over Phillip’s words. They don’t sound like they come from a man who was glad to say goodbye to me, who said it was a relief. They seem to say that he was interested in more.

Just like me.

He sent this five weeks ago. Maybe he’s been walking around thinking I received it after a week but hadn’t called, and he’s been wondering why.

How can I tell him that I eavesdropped on his conversation? Should I even do that?

Can I make that call?

Ziggy is a bouncing ball of energy when I enter Becky and Patrick’s house. His paws rest on my shin and I scratch him behind the ears, his tail swishing fast.

“You’re about to get another family member,” I tell him. “I bet you’re going to absolutely lose it when they bring her home.”

He licks my hand.

I grab a set of his things. Leash, his favorite bowl, crate for the car, a bag of dog food, and his treats. I’m gathering it all up by the door when Ziggy comes zooming into the kitchen, tail wagging, holding old tennis ball in his mouth. He drops it between his paws and looks at me expectantly.

“We can’t play fetch now,” I say and reach for it. He darts away, tail wagging even faster. “I promise we’ll play when we get to my house, okay?”

I drop his ball into my bag of stuff, and he cocks his head, looking at me with dismay. You’re supposed to throw it, his gaze says.

We’ve just made it to my car when my phone rings again. I see Becky’s number, and my heart goes haywire.

“Is everything all right?”

“We forgot my go-bag!” Becky yells. Her voice is strained, and I can hear the stress in it. “It has all my stuff in it. Could you-”

“Yes, I’ll drive up to the hospital with it right away,” I say. “Don’t worry.”

“Thank you,” she says. “You’re the best.”

“No, in this situation, you are. How are you feeling?”

“Like I’m being split in half, and not in a nice way.”

Beside her, I hear Patrick’s amused snort.

I chuckle. “Sounds like you’re keeping your spirits high.”

“I gotta,” she says. “It’s the only thing I have left to work with.”

We hang up, and I grab the bag from where it sits, packed and prepared, on the bench in their hallway. Patrick must have been going out of his mind to miss such a key detail.

Ziggy is quiet in the backseat during our drive to the hospital. Between all of us, he seems to be handling this situation the best.

My heart is pounding like I’m actually racing to the hospital with the pregnant Becky instead of her go-bag in the passenger seat.

Phillip reached out.

Becky is giving birth.

I should call him.

Please let everything go smoothly.

I make it to the hospital parking lot and give Ziggy a bowl of water and crack a window. He rests his head on his paws and gives a doggy sigh. Okay, I’ll wait here.

I’m walking toward the entrance of the hospital when I see her. Standing outside, drinking a can of soda in the warm sunlight.

Of course this is happening. She’s a nurse, and she works at this hospital. Nature’s timing is impeccable. Cindy looks up. Our eyes meet, and her mouth opens in surprise.

I don’t slow down, Becky’s bag in my hand. There are many more important things going on right now than our non-friendship.

“Eden,” she says.

“Hey, Cindy,” I say with a nod.

We haven’t spoken, not really, since everything exploded. Those days had been some of the ugliest in my life. Fighting, first with Caleb and then with Cindy. Having her sob in front of me like I was the one hurting her; when it was she who’s been sleeping with my fiancé for months.

“How’ve you been?” she asks.

I slow down, glancing at the hospital door. “Good.” Maybe it’s the adrenaline, or all the other things going on, but I don’t feel nervous. “I’m writing again.”

Her eyes widen. “Oh! That’s really good to hear. I heard you’re all moved in into your new place.”

“I am, yes. It’s great.”