Page 6 of Anywhere with You

If there was any doubt in my mind about my decision, it ended on Monday morning, when Bridget posted a Mesmio reel from the last-minute cruise to Mexico that Lorenzo had bought tickets for.

I watched it four more times, growing a little more irritated each time. Was that why I kept watching her reels? Because feeling grossed out by their spit swapping and annoyed at her flamboyant happiness felt better than sitting alone, heartbroken?

That probably wasn’t healthy.

I was a little tempted to ask Cara if Lorenzo had ever bought her cruise tickets, not to be an ass but because I was genuinely curious.

I’d surprised Bridget with tickets to a concert in Austin, once, and her response had been to complain about the drive and my ruining her weekend plans to take naps and watch reruns of The Jerry Springer Show , which was interesting as a time capsule of nineties fashion and as an argument against the continuation of our species, but not for any other reason.

I didn’t mention the cruise to Cara. I did call and talk to her about how to split the expenses, what landmarks we didn’t want to miss, and—most importantly—who would be in charge of the music.

“I’m obviously more qualified,” I argued.

“It’s a question of taste, and I’m not a fan of Led Zeppelin.”

It took me a moment to even guess at why she thought I was into Led Zeppelin. “Is that what you thought I was playing in the store?”

“Sounded like it.”

“It was Dolly Parton.”

“It definitely wasn’t. What do you think of Iron and Wine?” she asked.

“No,” I said. “White Stripes?”

“No. The Decemberists?”

“Franz Ferdinand?”

“The guy whose assassination started World War I?”

“No.” I sighed. “Okay, um…Taylor Swift?”

There was a long pause. “Do you actually like Taylor Swift, or are you just giving in?” Cara asked.

“Of course I like Taylor Swift. Everyone likes Taylor Swift.”

“Huh,” she said. “Who else does everyone like?”

“Pharrell Williams? Lizzo? Adele?”

“Okay, you can be in charge of music. No ABBA.”

I gasped. “What do you have against ABBA? No, don’t answer that. Save it for the road trip. We’ll need conversation topics.”

“I’ll be in charge of that,” Cara offered. “I’ll make a list. It’s funny. As much time as we’ve spent together, I don’t feel like I know you as well as I should.”

Neither of us said why, but I imagined she knew as well as I did—there had been dozens of dinners over the years, but Bridget and Lorenzo had dominated them.

They had chosen the days, the menu, the conversations.

It wasn’t as though Cara and I had sat there in silence, but we certainly hadn’t been the main attraction.

For the thousandth time, I thought: I should’ve seen it coming. I should’ve known.

“Oh,” Cara said. “Don’t forget Beyoncé.”

“I could never forget Beyoncé. I saw her once at Ragin’ Cajun.”

Cara gasped. “I knew she was from Houston, but I’ve never seen her. Did you freak out?”

“Only on the inside. I…” I was about to tell her that I’d had to hold Bridget down to keep her from going to Beyoncé’s table, but that memory was tainted now.

Cara seemed to understand. She had her own tainted memories. “Well, I’m officially jealous. Oh! Add Olivia Rodrigo.”

“Got it. Text me when you think of anyone else.”

“Text me if you find another place you want to stop. I think we have a pretty good list so far.”

I nodded, even though I knew she couldn’t see me. “I’m actually looking forward to this.”

I expected her to laugh and say of course , but she didn’t. There was a long pause. Then she said, “I am, too. It’s the first thing in weeks.”

“Getting away will be good. Even though…” I took a breath, hoping she would ignore me. If she hadn’t seen the Mesmio reel, I didn’t want to be the one to tell her.

“Even though they’re on their way to Cozumel,” she finished with a sigh.

“Yeah.”

“Screwing their way through the Caribbean.”

“Yeah.”

“Can I just say,” she said, “they both really suck.”

“Yeah, you can definitely say that.”

There was a pause, then the sound of thumping, as though Cara was punching one of her throw pillows.

“Okay,” she said, returning to the phone a little breathless. “Now, let’s talk about snacks. We’ll need chewy options to stay awake while driving, so jelly beans, taffy, maybe some dried fruit? And popcorn. I’ve got the popcorn covered. I buy it in bulk.”

I talked to Cara about snacks, but my mind was on the price.

I knew hotels were expensive, and though the state park fees and other attractions we’d chosen were on the cheaper side for vacation destinations, we had the cost of eating every meal on the road, too.

One day of restaurants would easily outstrip what I usually spent on groceries in a week.

Bridget had been making enough money for both of us, for so many years, that I’d kind of gotten out of the habit of thinking about daily expenses. It was an incredibly privileged position to be in, I knew.

But now I was splitting the cost of a spring break trip, and I needed to take a serious look at my bank account.

When Cara and I got off the phone, I opened the bank app with my breath held.

When it loaded, I relaxed. Not as bad as I’d feared. It helped that I hadn’t gone anywhere or done anything for fun in months. If I postponed paying the house’s electric bill and my car insurance, I’d be in excellent shape for the trip.

I wouldn’t be at home anyway, I reasoned, and neither would Badger, so it didn’t matter if the electric company got a little fussy, and my car would be parked for the week, too. We were taking Cara’s.

The most important thing was that the store was still afloat. My employees and my vendors were all paid.

For now.

What I would keep or lose in the divorce…I couldn’t make myself think about it. Not yet. This year had already been too hard. I couldn’t conceive of losing anything else.