Josie and I talked on the phone every single night for an entire month.

During the day, we texted constantly. She sent me silly selfies and pictures of her clients. Snapped photos of gauzy sunsets over the L.A. skyline and walls of vibrant graffiti near her house. A video of her nephews running through her backyard. The sprays of magenta jacaranda that grew around her banister.

Josie was bringing me into her world, bit by bit.

I didn’t have a fucking plan. Our future was shrouded in mystery. And yet I woke up each morning grinning like an idiot and spent my days enchanted with our conversations. Yearning for the next one.

I was okay with that. More than okay—I’d never been more blissfully happy.

Josie had had a shit day at work—a busy photo shoot with an asshole creative director and two entitled, whiny clients. I’d made her laugh with stories from The Bar, but there’d been a ragged edge to her voice. So before our call, I hiked out to the overlook at Pfeiffer Beach, sneaking under the guardrail (a skill of every Big Sur native) and filmed a short video of the waves beneath the moonlight.

Pfeiffer Beach was my favorite place in Big Sur, and I regretted never taking Josie here. A cove of rocks surrounded a small beach, and a tiny waterfall endlessly splashed against the sand, digging a hole that had been reformed and reshaped for a millennium. Gently carved by water. Beyond it lay the rugged coast of California, and on clear days, you could often see whales in the distance.

Tonight I was filming the silvery reflection of the moonlight and the endless rock of the waves, thinking the sound of it might help her sleep. Or that seeing her phone’s tiny screen bursting with nature might bring her some serenity. I’d gone hiking every single day that we’d spoken, even if I could only find a free fifteen minutes, even if it was pouring rain, and the Ventana Wilderness seemed to breathe and expand into my lungs as I strode beneath the canopy.

In the silence of the forest, Josie remained the center. No regret, no sadness, merely an acceptance of this time that we had. The present in all of its simple beauty.

When I got home, I sent her the video, praying the myriad of technological upgrades I’d had Calvin input for me would get it to her. He’d set up a signal booster and a Wi-Fi hot-spot, and he’d found me a cell phone that hadn’t been designed in 1998.

The Bar was slowly entering the twenty-first century.

And I was okay with that too.

My phone pinged, and when I swiped my thumb across the screen, I expected to hear Josie’s voice. But there, in miniature, was her image instead.

“Is it okay if we video chat tonight?” she asked, and the force of seeing her for the first time in eight weeks slammed through my chest.

I also had no idea what I was wearing or what I looked like. “Of course,” I said, trying to covertly glance into the mirror over the bar. Was there food in my teeth? Had I even showered today? “Although, to be honest, now I’m a little nervous.”

“Why?” she asked, smiling prettily. Josie was in yoga pants and a giant shirt that had Boyz II Men on it. Hair in a braid. No makeup. Curled up in blankets on her bed.

“Because you look absolutely beautiful,” I said.

She bit her lip. I wanted to bite that lip.

I wanted her to bite me.

“And I have no idea what I’m even wearing right now,” I laughed, looking down at my appearance. “Do I look normal?”

“You look like a real-life version of the Brawny lumberjack,” she said dryly.

I laughed, loving the way her smile flashed in return. “Is that a compliment?”

“Si,” she promised. “And I guess… talking on the phone has been amazing, but I… I miss your face.” Her finger reached out, stroking the screen. I couldn’t believe this was happening, and my heart raced at the thought of what this meant.

Maybe she’d be… maybe soon.

“Seeing you is… I mean,” I stopped, struggling to find the right words. “Seeing you is really powerful, Josie.”

She nodded, clutching the blanket around her shoulders. “I keep thinking I see you in L.A. The bearded man-bun thing is kind of hot right now, and there’s like a million copies of you walking around the streets.”

I scoffed. “I’ve had long hair since I was sixteen. How can it be really hot right now?”

“Just a trend,” she grinned. “Although, as the Original, it clearly looks the best on you.” She winked.

My heart fluttered like a teenager’s, flirting with a crush.

“About once a day I think I see you. And it’s like…” she cleared her throat, shifting on the bed. “Well, I really wish you were here right now.” Those dark eyes captivated me. “And I loved your video. It’s why I wanted to call you. That was really thoughtful, Gabe.”

I shrugged. “I thought maybe you could listen to it tonight, and it might help you sleep a little.”

We stared at each other for half a minute, moon-eyed and goofy. “Hey, can you show me your house?” I finally asked before I did something stupid like declare my undying love.

“Yes,” she squealed, climbing off the bed. “I forgot you haven’t seen it.”

“Nope,” I said. “Not at all.”

“I bought it more than a year ago. I’m really proud of it,” she smiled. “But I’m not going to show you my bedroom because it’s a wreck.”

There was a husky tinge to her voice. I wanted to ask her if she touched herself in that bed. Touched herself and thought of me.

She slowly panned the camera around her kitchen, which was the most Josie-looking room I’d ever seen. Her appliances were old and pastel-colored; the floor was black and white tile. The windows were wide open, and every single available space was covered in either art or photographs. I spotted a Polaroid of Josie and Lucia, looking years younger, hugging each other and laughing in front of the Hollywood sign. Black-and-white photos of family members; funky art in a rainbow of colors.

“Tell me what you do here,” I said, and she turned the camera back around, scrunched up her face, tapped her finger against her lip.

“Drink endless cups of coffee with my mom. Or Lucia, usually after a night where we haven’t slept,” she said, laughing. “I cook for my brothers a couple times a month, and all of us squeeze in here, wives and kids and all.”

“Do they ever cook for you?” I asked.

“Fuck yes,” she said. “Actually, they’re better cooks than me.”

I laughed as she showed me her tiny backyard, lit with string lights and filled with mismatched furniture. I could picture her there on summer nights, surrounded by those she loved. Her community. I felt a twisted pang when I thought about how swiftly I’d dismissed this. The life she led before Big Sur.

“This is my living room,” she said, passing a room that was just as cozy and colorful as her kitchen. Framed photos hung on her wall, magazine covers of her clients, an interview she’d done for Style Magazine with Lucia. In the two years since the wedding, Josie seemed to fill this house with every ounce of her personality, and it only made me fall for her more. Could picture us entwined on that very couch, every inch of our bodies pressed together.

“And this is my favorite place,” she said, opening the front door to her porch. There was a swing and more chairs, and she’d hung miniature, glowing globes from the ceiling that cast everything in a soft glow.

“I sit out here all the time. Watch my neighbors. See what’s going on. Actually, I’ll probably get a call from my parents any minute now.”

“Why?” She’d flipped the phone back toward her face, and I desperately wanted to cup her cheek.

“Because I’m outside, in my pajamas, talking into my phone like a crazy person,” she teased. “This neighborhood is filled with busybodies, Gabriel. I’ll have to answer to them eventually.”

“Ah,” I said, stroking my beard, “The Big Sur Channel is alive and well even in East L.A.”

“Especially in East L.A.,” she laughed. “There’s a Gloria and a Gladys in every town. Even big cities.”

“You know I’m not even sure the sisters know video chatting is possible. Really takes their perversion to a whole new level.”

Josie arched an eyebrow. “In their house, I bet there’s a grainy, out-of-focus video of the Hollywood People that they watch on loop.”

“Oh, definitely. Also, they came by yesterday to swap out the penis paintings.”

“No,” she said with mock horror.

“Yes,” I replied. “And replaced them with another slew of paintings also of penises.”

“Let me guess. They’re all doing things.”

I laughed, walking across The Bar to show her on the video. “This one’s wearing a bow tie and a top hat. Who knows why. This one I think is like… a financier? Maybe a banker?”

Josie frowned. “That one doesn’t look very happy.”

I leaned in closer. “You’re right. Fucking miserable.”

“What else happened today?” she asked, wrapping an arm around her legs and laying her cheek against her knee. Josie gave me a toothy, sweet grin. I was falling hard for both sides of this girl. The fierce bad-ass who’d strapped me to a bed. And this softer, gentler woman who was just starting to reveal herself to me.

I didn’t know what this meant. Any of it. Except if felt like fucking progress.

“Settle in, gorgeous,” I said. “Because tonight I had to moderate a semi-drunk argument between Ruth and Kevin about the separation of church and state. As related to pornography. Per the request of Gladys and Gloria.”

Another smile. Another laugh.

Big Sur and L.A. were feeling closer and closer.

Two weeks later, I carried a six-pack over to my parents’ house for family dinner. Kissed Lola. Hugged Maya, Isabelle, and Paige. Punched Max. Let my parents hug me and check me over for signs of injury.

“I’m really okay,” I laughed, sprawling in one of the dining room chairs. “It was an emotional pain I was dealing with that first month. You remember, Dad. When Mom was going to the prom with that other guy, and you thought you’d lost her. It was that same, gut-wrenching agony of unrequited…” I coughed, tripping over the words. Lust, like, love. Because now, after I was done closing down The Bar, Josie and I video-chatted every night, and the intimacy of seeing each other, of exposing the other person to the moments of humor, frustration, wonder, that make up your day… my feelings for Josie were spiraling beyond intense captivation and powerful lust.

That gut instinct I’d had, that Josie and I were going to be something to each other, was turning out to be right.

At least, I hoped so.

My parents shared a look that spoke volumes. “You couldn’t pay me to go back to that time,” he said, squeezing my mom’s hand. “Meanwhile, your mom was going through something similar, and I had no idea. Our houses were one-hundred yards apart, and both of us were lying on the floor, wallowing.”

“Hey, that’s how I found Gabe that one day,” Isabelle pointed out, tossing me a wink.

Maya leaned her head against Isabelle’s shoulder. I arched an eyebrow Isabelle’s way. I hadn’t seen Iz in a month, but the last time we’d talked, she had mentioned that she and Maya were starting to regain their balance. Find some peace with motherhood.

“I’m a great wallower,” I shrugged. “What can I say?”

“I saw you at the farmer’s market, talking into the phone as you walked around,” Max said. “Was that Josie? Were you like… showing her the fruits and vegetables?”

Every woman at the table pinned me with a wide-eyed gaze.

“It was a Saturday. We were… showing each other around our respective hometowns. You know. East L.A. has a bustling farmer’s market as well, and I wanted to see it. Had to return the favor.”

You’re a fucking goner, Isabelle mouthed at me. I grinned.

I fucking know, I mouthed back.

“So you’re video-chatting now?” My mom asked, opening up another bottle of wine and giving us all another generous pour. All the doors and windows in the house were open, and the rich green of the forest pressed inside. “That’s a good sign.”

Lola reached for me and I leaned over, scooping her up from Maya’s arms. She was eight months old now and getting bigger every day. “I think so.”

“You’re listening,” Isabelle said, and Maya gave me a knowing smile.

“I’m trying,” I said as Lola giggled against my chest. “I’m really trying.”