Tully calls when practice is over.
“You okay?” he asks. “I didn’t see you leave.”
“I’m sorry. I was just exhausted and not feeling great, so I came home.”
“Aw, you’re not getting sick, are you? Need me to bring anything over? Medicine, soup?”
“That’s so sweet, but no. It’s okay.”
“You can ask for anything, you know.” His voice turns playful. “Ice cream?”
“Soup does sound kinda good. And ice cream.”
He laughs. “That’s my girl. Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
He’s there within half an hour. I’ve spent that time being completely unproductive. I tried to read and watch TV. I ended up just sitting on my bed with my back against the headboard and my knees pulled to my chest, staring at nothing.
I open the door, and he comes in carrying a paper bag in one arm and a plastic one hanging from his wrist, his hair stillwet from his shower. He puts his hand on my face, his thumb rubbing my cheek.
“So sorry you’re not feeling well.”
“I feel better now that I’m seeing you.”
He smiles and drops everything on the kitchen counter as he shrugs out of his jacket.
“I went to Lund’s and got their chicken noodle and the sourdough bread you like.” He’s already opening the cabinet and pulling out a bowl. “And I forgot to ask which ice cream you were most in the mood for, so I got mint chip and chocolate peanut butter.”
“Oh my goodness. You didn’t have to do all that.”
He glances back at me over his shoulder. “I wanted to.”
“Thank you.” I come up behind him and wrap my arms around him. “You’re the best there is.”
“I think you’re confusing me with you,” he teases.
We end up on the couch, his legs stretched out on the coffee table and my feet tucked under a blanket. The soup is gone, and he’s holding the mint-chip ice cream between us, both of us eating right out of the carton.
“Can I ask you something?” I say.
“Always.”
I pull at a loose thread on the blanket. “When you picture it—in the spring, when you decide where you’re going, when everything actually starts—” I pause. “What does it look like? Specifically for us?”
He’s quiet for a second. “Well…I think it’s going to be a lot of figuring it out as we go.” He turns toward me a little more. “There’s going to be distance, at least for a while, which will be hard. Wherever I land, you’ve still got your own stuff to figure out—where you want to be, what you want your career to look like. And I want it to be somewhere you’re happy with, not just based on where I’m going, if it’s not where you want to be. We’ll see each other as much as we can.”
“You say that like it’s simple.”
“I don’t think it’ll be easy. I’ll miss you like crazy. But we’ll make it work. Right?”
My throat constricts. I look down at the blanket and nod.
He lifts my chin so my eyes meet his. “I want to marry you one day, Lola. I know that’s down the line, not right away, but—that’s where I hope we’re going.”
“What about kids?” I ask.
He smiles. “Yeah. One day. I mean, I’m not ready yet.” He laughs. “Right? Not even close, honestly. But—” He pauses, and when he looks back at me, his face is unguarded, and it almost undoes me completely. “I think a lot about our future together.”
One day.Not even close.Eventually.