Page 7

Everyone had conveniently forgotten that Vanessa’s original plan had been to go to the festival solo.

Her favorite artist, Panthro, was headlining, along with several other great artists and bands.

A few days away and a concert seemed like a fun thing she could do on her own.

Then Bobby had invited himself to make it a “sibling trip” because he was a big fan of the same artist. Then, of course, Zoe had to invite herself because she couldn’t seem to detach herself from Bobby’s side for a second when he wasn’t at work.

“We’ve been dating for four months. I think I know him well enough. Anyway, four of us will be a better number than an odd three.”

“Where did you meet him again?” Nadine asked, her brows drawing together.

“On an app. Things went so well, that one date led to another. He’s really nice. I think you’d like him.”

When she’d told Scott she was somehow suddenly playing third wheel on her own trip to the Jazz Festival, his ears practically perked up with enthusiasm.

He was a serious jazz head and revealed he went up to Montreal for it every year.

The fun coincidence had compelled him to suggest they go together.

She’d agreed, excited to no longer play lonesome tag-along, plus it would be nice to show up on the arm of a polished man.

Someone who wouldn’t scream “New York, motherfuckers!” to let everyone know where he was from as though the Bronx accent and the Yankees ballcap wasn’t enough of a clue.

Santino would probably hate the festival. He liked hip hop but, shocker, his real love was 80s pop, having listened to Lina’s treasure trove of old albums, CDs, and mix tapes since he was a baby.

She snapped back from memories of laughing at Santino belting out Phil Collins’ “In the Air Tonight” and miming the crazy drum intro when Nadine responded, “Mm hm,” with warning painted all over her smooth mahogany face. “Staying in his own room, I hope?”

Oh, right, Scott.

Vanessa flushed, turning to look at the baby in her bassinette rather than meet Nadine’s searching gaze.

Scott had told her to cancel her tiny room and her plane ticket; he put himself in charge of showing her a good time, first class all the way, and booked them a room at the Four Seasons where Bobby and Zoe were staying.

Vanessa had been slightly alarmed at the suggestion.

They were still casually dating, not having gone further than kissing on the doorstep.

She hadn’t waited longer than a month to jump into bed and exchange “I love yous” with Santino and look what had come of it. She waited with Scott to be sure it was right. This trip was going to be a test, the “will we or won’t we?” of what could be a promising relationship.

As if listening to her thoughts, Nadine heaved an even longer sigh. “Vanessa. You know what your grandmother would have said. ‘Marry in haste, repent at leisure.’ Once wasn’t enough?”

“It’s a festival, not a wedding, Mom,” Vanessa said with her own sigh as she squeezed that moonstone a little harder.

“What does this mystery man do for a living? Not another fireman, I hope. They are shameless flirts, as you found out the hard way.”

Another Santino jab wrapped up in a stereotype. “No. He’s the co-founder and the CFO of his own technology firm.”

“Hm.” The sound was barely a sentence, yet it relayed an entire chapter of Nadine’s thoughts about a new man. “Anyway, you –"

“I’m sorry, Mom, it’s getting late. I need to get home and get dinner started,” Vanessa mumbled.

“But I thought you were staying over. Zoe is making shrimp and yellow rice, Spanish style,” Nadine huffed softly, now looking wounded. “You should at least wait till Bobby gets home so you can congratulate him.”

Vanessa stood and pressed her fingers to her lips, then to Everly’s blanket. Then she kissed Nadine before heading for the door, almost forgetting to put her shoes on in her haste to escape.

“I’ll be seeing him in Montreal. I’ve gotta go. I’ll stay over when I get back from the trip.”

“Okay. In the meantime, things are going to be okay at work. Just push, push, push. You’ll make it through.”

Vanessa dredged up a grin as her mother smiled at her from the couch. “Okay, Mom. I’ll try.”

It was with a profound sigh of relief when Vanessa made it back to her own house in Bronxville. She toed off her shoes in the entryway and carried them to the bedroom, where she put them on the shoe rack built into the walk-in closet.

Back in the living room, she sat on the couch and sighed, rubbing her feet as her eyes ran across the big space. A tasteful couch, chairs, tables, pillows, and rugs. At one time, she’d loved all the furnishings that she’d so carefully chosen to make the plain, white rooms feel like a home.

If she had an impulse-buy weakness that was more fun and meaningful, it was books and stones. There were bowls of rocks, shelves full of books, and more collections of each randomly strewn around. Santino used to tease her about that whenever she brought more home.

“I don’t think you have enough,” he’d say with a laugh. “Yo, let’s squeeze in some more. I think there’s a clear spot on that shelf.”

Three bedrooms, three bathrooms, a gorgeous backyard.

She remembered Santino chasing her from room to room their first morning after moving in.

Remembered the echoes of laughter then the fierce, crazy lovemaking that had followed.

They’d christened every room on that first day, making their final stop in the room they’d hoped would be a nursery.

Even though she was busting her ass in law school and hoped to land a good job at a firm, they’d been actively trying for a baby in her final year.

She’d never allowed a man into her body without protection before him.

The marathon sessions were hot, messy, and so much fun, right up until things fell apart as things do.

The door to that still-empty room was usually kept closed.

That way, she wouldn’t have to be reminded every time she passed it.

Longing curled in her chest and her belly for those babies that would never be.

And honestly, she no longer cared about any of this furniture, any of the material things that had mattered so much back then.

Looking at them only made her feel as empty as that room.

The only thing that had helped her get through the tougher times was filling the space with music. Her favorite album by her favorite artist, A Love Song for Loss .

Maybe, if this trip with Scott solidified things, she’d finally have everything she really wanted, more than walls to decorate and rooms to fill with stuff. A loving man, a family of her own.

She was ready for all of it. But was Scott the right one?

Circular, restless thoughts clouded her head. She decided to make herself a cup of tea, hoping it would soothe her but was disappointed when she discovered she was out of jasmine, her favorite.

“The fuck. I thought I had at least one left.”

Now she was annoyed with herself for forgetting she was out.

Settling for peppermint, she put the loose leaves in the silver infusion ball and took it back to the living room to let it cool enough for sipping.

Looking at the small table next to the couch, she touched Belle’s photo.

Belle had been her favorite aunt from either side, her favorite person, really.

She was Vanessa’s confidante, never judging, always making time for her when every other adult was busy.

Belle’s picture was close by so Vanessa could “check in” when she had a dilemma to think through.

In this shot, Belle’s hair was in long purple dreads.

She’d enjoyed keeping Vanessa guessing about what color they would be when she saw her.

“Am I rushing things with Scott?” Vanessa asked her softly.

Belle’s pecan-colored eyes gave her a knowing look. That look had been her trademark when Vanessa was about to make a questionable decision, especially as a teenager.

“Never mind him. What about Bobby? I’m not a very supportive sister, am I?” she asked. The eyes again. “You’re right. I’m a bitch. Fine.”

She retrieved her phone from her purse and sent Bobby a text: “ Congrats on the award. Lots of brains in that big forehead of yours! ”

“ Not bigger than yours, Fivehead. Soon, we celebrate. We gon tear that town UP! ” he wrote back.

She grinned, already feeling better. “ You know you’ll be asleep by 9, sucka. Love you. ”

“ Love U 2 .”