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“Brazil? Chicken, shouldn’t we talk about this!?” Julianne ran through Goblins on Erica’s heels, waving a manuscript over her head like a lasso, her voice screeching at a decimal she reserved for emergencies and emotional moments that tequila couldn’t solve.
Dave grinned over the counter at the group of tourists that had somehow stumbled through the doors a few minutes before, arms full of paraphernalia and wallets burning a hole in their proverbial pockets, “She’s never been to Brazil,” he confided like it was a big secret and handed over a couple of coffees.
Ivan whispered in his ear, “She’s at it again.” Which she he meant and what it was exactly depended on the day. Renting out their extra space to 50/50 had certainly kept them entertained, at the very least. Ivan pulled a tray of cookies he’d been hiding and smiled at the tourists, his eyes surreptitiously seeking out Julianne’s lithe form at the door.
“Erica Strange! You cannot just take off to Brazil without talking to me about this first,” Julianne slammed her hands down on the hood of Erica’s little yellow car and scowled. “What are you thinking?”
Erica poked her head out of the window, “I’m thinking that I’m single, the business is doing great, you have Brent and Rachel, and my friend sent me a fabulous manuscript and I want to talk to her about publishing it in person.” She laughed and tapped on the gas pedal teasingly, causing Julianne to jump back. “I’ll be back in a couple of days, Julianne. Let me do this.”
Julianne lifted her hands in defeat and backed away, teetering a little on her heels as Erica sped by. Brent leaned into her shoulder, “Our two o’clock is here. And? She’ll be fine.”
“She always is,” Julianne shrugged, following Brent back inside and studiously ignoring Ivan and Dave’s curious glances.
Back at her apartment, Erica changed into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, threw a pair of sunglasses on her head and slipped into a pair of strappy sandals. She threw a few toiletries, another pair of shorts, her two cutest bikinis, and another pair of sandals into a large, over-the-shoulder bag, took a deep breath, and stepped through a door.
There were perks to being a doctor and she so rarely took advantage of them.
“Erica Strange?!” Cassidy leapt up from the table she had been sitting at in a crowded bar and crowed excitedly, her hands flying up into the air over her head. “Where did you come from?”
Erica bounced into a little side-curtsey and grinned, “Toronto. I live there you know.”
Cassidy threw her arms around her old friend and laughed, “Yeah, I know where you live, kid. I mean how did you get here?”
Erica looked around, confused, “Where? Here?”
“Yes, here, Curitiba. How did you get here?”
She shrugged, “Oh, the usual way.”
Cassidy shook her head, her long hair dancing around her shoulders, “You always had your secrets.”
“And you!” Erica hit her in the shoulder roughly. “I had to wait for your manuscript to show up on my desk like you were one of those worthless plebs begging for my attention? How could you write an entire novel and not tell me about it?”
Cassidy took her hand, their fingers sliding together easily, just as they always had, her other hand wrapped lazily around Erica’s forearm, and dragged her through the crowded bar to her table, “Oh please. I had to find out through Ethan that you’d even started your own business.”
“I emailed you!” Erica protested, taking a cold, frothy beer out of a waitress’ hands with a smile.
“Three days later,” Cassidy shook her head and leaned forward, resting one arm on Erica’s lap. “God it’s good to see you.”
Erica pressed a hand into hers, “You, too.”
And it was, she had seen Cassidy more recently than they’d parted after she got that position in England, but if there was one thing she learned from therapy it was that a memory was still a memory. She may have held Cassidy’s hand in a memory only a year ago, but they hadn’t held hands in much, much longer.
And she’d missed it.
“What happened?” Cassidy suddenly said, reaching up to brush an invisible strand of hair out of Erica’s face. “You’re so different,” she had always had a way of making her words sound like a benediction and a tease in the same breath.
There were a half a dozen things that she could have said, a million different brush-offs that she had used a thousand times, but in this moment, in this magical place, with her, Erica told the closest version of the truth she could dare.
Erica chuckled, “What always happens!” She pointed at herself, “Therapy!”
Cassidy leaned back, “Wow. Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” Erica tilted her head to the side in a mock bow.
“Did I come up in your sessions?” her fingernails grazed the inside of Erica’s wrist and she didn’t try to hide the way it made her shiver.
“A few times, not directly.”
Cassidy kept her eyes lowered, “I’m so sorry, Erica.”
New Year’s Eve, a kiss that changed everything and nothing, a perfect semester all tangled up in each other, a perfect moment, a nervous summer, and then a tearful goodbye. She hadn’t lied, not really. Cassidy hadn’t come up directly in her sessions with Dr. Tom because their end wasn’t her regret. There was nothing about her time with Cassidy that she regretted.
“Hey,” Erica bent her head down and confronted Cassidy gently. “It was a great opportunity. You couldn’t say no. England? Oxford? Those aren’t things people say no to.”
“I could have,” Cassidy argued petulantly, smiling a little.
“But it was right that you didn’t. And now look.” Erica flung her hands out and gestured at everything around them, “Magic! Adventure! A novel?!”
Cassidy rolled her eyes with amusement, “A silly novel.”
“A wonderful novel,” Erica leaned forward, taking Cassidy’s hands. “And I’m going to publish the hell out of it.”
“For old time’s sake?”
Erica’s breath caught at the twinkle in Cassidy’s eye. It was just like she remembered. It was all just like she remembered.
“For now’s… time… time’ssss…. sake….” Erica sat up straighter and frowned.
“For now’s time’s sake?”
They collapsed into giggles, arms and hands and head and hair and legs becoming one puddle of working parts, just like it had been when they were just beginning.
“Brent! Brent!” Julianne grabbed a pillow and hit him over the head impatiently.
“I am not acting out the Elephant Medley in the middle of the night again, Julianne. You promised it would only be that one time,” he grumbled, snatching the pillow from her and hiding it under his chest as he rolled over.
“Look at this txt I just got from Erica!”
“It’s two o’clock. I’ll look at it in the morning!”
“Brent!!!”
He sat up, straight as a rod, and glared at her. “Let me see it,” he held out his palm flat. She set her phone in his hand, he looked blearily at the bright screen, looked at her expectant face, back at the screen, and then fell back against the pillow. “Goodnight Julianne.”
“What do you think it means?” she nestled against him, angling to get the phone back from wherever he had hidden it.
“If you try to get the phone back I will carry you to the couch and you will spend the next week there,” he warned.
“You wouldn’t!”
He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and kissed her forehead, “You’re right. I wouldn’t.” He smiled, “I’d move into Erica’s empty apartment instead since she won’t be needing it for a while.”
Julianne slapped his chest, “Brent! What do you think it means?”
“Julianne – going to work on the novel with Cassidy from here. It’s beautiful. You and Brent should visit. Water my plants.” Brent recited from memory, bored. “I think it means you should plan a trip to Brazil and that Erica’s got another best seller on her hands.”
“A best seller?!”
“Julianne? If you don’t. Shut. Up.”
“God Brent stop talking! I’m trying to sleep!”