Liz

We agreed, no cell phones. It’s Claudia’s weekend, after all. I didn’t think it would be an issue. Shep offered to make her bachelorette weekend extra special by upgrading the spa package and location. I didn’t think I’d be getting much in the way of cell service in the mountains of Utah, but what kind of seventeen star resort that’s carved into the side of a cliff face would this place be if there was no cell service? The girls are waiting for me. We have a group massage scheduled. Then sauna time, a scheduled nap and a leisurely dinner on the patio of Claudia’s suite.

Like a fool, though, I don’t leave my phone on silent. I don’t ignore it when I hear the voicemail alert go off as I’m leaving my room. Foolishly, I don’t wait to listen to the voicemail from D.A. Rivers. I see the transcript load on my cell screen and still I’m too stupid to tell myself to just wait. I’m on vacation with my girls, two thousand miles and weeks away from the attempted murder, the discovery that one of my former clients had been recording all of our sessions and kept the footage, and all other manner of injustices that go completely ignored when the victims look like me.

I’ve been with Smith, Weller, Lee and Connolly for three weeks now. The work is the same, but the new partners I work under are worse than Murrell, all four of them. They told me to be reachable this weekend even though I never suggested for a second that I wouldn’t be. When I hear my phone ding, I think it’s work. I think it could be a client. Less and less every day, I hope it’s Silas. I check my voicemail and five minutes later I realize I’m still sitting on the dressing room bench looking at my phone, trying to process the insanity this woman just uttered to me.

“Excuse me, Elizabeth?” I look up and see Rayna’s head poking through the now open swinging door with it’s fancy brass handle. Everything in the place looks so expensive.

“Yeah?”

“You coming?” she says with a big smile. She’s happy as a pig in shit. Free of her grandmother for three days and she and Langdon are back together. That’s the tea she had for us the moment we checked in. This is Claudia’s weekend, I remind myself. Be present, Lewis.

“Yeah. I’m coming.” I force a smile and stash my phone in my personal cubby that is way too fancy to call a locker. Rayna links her arm with mine as I make my way through the door. When we emerge into a large stone room with a massive glass window that overlooks the valley, the view is breathtaking, but I can’t appreciate it. That ache is starting to rise in my chest again. It’s a daily thing now. I’m working on it. I’m in therapy. Claudia’s doctor gave me a great referral. There’s so much to work through. More than I ever realized I’ve been holding onto.

Noa, Brooklyn and Claudia are already face down on their massage tables, being attended to by the most skilled of hands.

“This is Salina,” Rayna says, introducing me to the beautiful Asian woman standing next to one of the remaining tables.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Salina says, gesturing to the linen wrapped table.

“Lizzie,” Brooklyn slurs. “You are in for a treat.”

“I bet.” I slip off my robe and force another smile as I lay down.

I tense the second Salina’s fingers touch my skin. I’m not ready and for some reason my body is completely unwilling to relax. I close my eyes and force myself to breathe. I know what’s happening and I know how to stop it. I just need to breathe and count. Remember that I’m fine.

It just doesn’t work. The tears start leaking out of my eyes. I try again to pull some air to my tightening lungs. A noise comes out of me and I know everyone in the room thinks I’m mortally wounded. That makes it worse. I move up to my elbows so I can cover my face and really start crying.

“Shit,” I hear Brooklyn say, and a second later she’s beside me, rubbing my shoulder. “It’s okay. Come here.” She takes my arms and helps me sit up. Noa wraps my robe over my shoulders and the next thing I know, they are all gathered around me.

“Can you ladies just give us a minute?” Claudia asks the poor masseuses who are just trying to do their jobs. I catch a few of their sincere looks of worry as they leave the room.

“What’s wrong?” Claudia asks once we’re alone.

“I’m so sorry,” I tell her.

“Don’t apologize. What’s wrong?”

“Yeah, bitch. Why you crying?” Brooklyn says. I can’t stop the laugh the sputters out of me.

“I don’t know. Everything.”

“Okay. Come on. Let’s talk it out. What’s on your mind?” Rayna walks over to the table in the corner and pours me a glass of sparkling water. It’s a real fancy glass. I take it from her and take a sip. It actually helps. I didn’t realize how thirsty I am.

“I just heard back from the Manhattan D.A.’s office—like right before we came in here. I know we said no cell phones.”

“Whatever. All three of these assholes have been texting their bum boyfriends since we got here,” Brook says.

“Excuse me, my amazing fiancé is paying for this trip. I can text him whenever I want,” Claudia says.

“Whatever.” Brooklyn flips her hair dramatically over her shoulder and looks back at me. “You were saying, darling.”

“They’ve decided not to press charges against me.”

“Wait. For the guy coming into your place and trying to kill you?” Rayna says.

“Yeah. They are calling it self defense, but she said that I should have told her you were the in the Bronx department,” I tell Brooklyn.

“Right, right. Cool, cool. That’s exactly something you say to a victim. I’m tempted to roll up on that bitch. What the fuck?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is that all? It takes a lot to make you cry,” Noa asks.

I shake my head and sigh in defeat. They all know me too well. “I hate my job. Like, I hate it. I don’t—I don’t know if I want to be a lawyer anymore.”

“That’s okay,” Claudia says.

“Yeah,” Noa adds. “Plenty of people hate their jobs. It doesn’t make you a bad person or anything.”

“Except when you’re me and your job is caring for the elderly,” Rayna adds.

“You remember what Dad said. He didn’t care what we did as long as we paid our own bills and you’ve always been good at paying your own bills and mine. Hustle is your middle name,” Brooklyn says as she takes my hand. “If anyone can handle a career change, it’s you.”

“She’s right,” Claudia says. “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know, but I’m miserable.” Just saying those words out loud breaks the dam. I start sobbing.

“Oh baby.”

“Lizzie!”

“Oh hun.”

My friends and my sister’s support just makes it worse. Or better. Silas flashes into my mind and I immediately close the image of him out. Nothing about him is the solution, just a band-aid. I have to take care of myself. I have to deal with the problems in front of me and work through them.

“I think I have to quit my job,” I say.

“I know that sounds scary, but it’s okay,” Noa adds. “Especially since you know you hate it. Staying there would just make things worse.”

“How about this? You’re quitting your job,” Claudia says with a hell of a lot of certainty. I look up at her as I wipe my face. “I’m serious. You are smart and amazing and talented. We’ll help you find yourself and what you want to do and you’re going to quit that job and you’re not going to line up work with another firm.”

“I—”

“Uh-uh. Don’t even,” Brooklyn says. She’s giving me the look. “I know exactly what you’re going to say and fuck. That noise.”

“What?” Noa asks.

“She’s worried about money, but this bitch’s savings account is padded as fuck. She can maintain all this for three years, easy. So funds are not an issue.”

“She might be right,” I admit. I know how to budget and save.

“Be scared about the unknown, but don’t be scared about the money. You got the money, and we have your back with the rest.”

“Girl, have some more sparkling water,” Rayna says, motioning to the fancy glass still in my hand. I take another sip. “Then let’s get these massages because I think we are all tense as hell, and then tonight during Thank God Claudia is Marrying Someone Hot Slumber Party Part One, after I tell you how Langdon’s dick somehow got surprisingly bigger since the last time we slept together, we can sit down and brainstorm Elizabeth Lewis, Phase Two.”

“Phase two?”

“Yes. My nan is driving me crazy, but she has some decent wisdom. She said all good women have three phases of their lives. The beginnings and the ends of each phase are clear, you just need to pay attention. This is the end of phase one.”

“She’s right,” Brooklyn adds. “It’s the hair.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?” I refreshed my sew-in before we left for Utah.

“I’m feeling this bob. I am. But Bey’s moved on from this style. And so should you.”

“Oh, well in that case.”

“Are you okay?” Claudia asks, patting my knee.

“Yeah. Thanks, you guys. I feel better.” I let out a deep breath. I still feel a little crazy, but the tightness in my chest is starting to ease. “I’m going to quit my job. I don’t like my colleagues or the partners. I don’t like my clients. One of them fucking tried to kill me. I sure as hell don’t like the work, not enough to put my damn life in danger. And not enough to be this bored and unhappy. There is no reason for me to stay.”

“Exactly!” Rayna says. “Quit that job.”

“Quit that job,” Brooklyn adds.

“Quit that job,” Claudia throws in for good measure and then pretty soon all four of them are chanting. “Quit that job! Quit that job! Quit that job! Quit that job!”

They don’t stop until I start laughing and then they are all hugging me. “We love you, bitch,” Brooklyn says.

“I love you guys.”

“Good,” Rayna says as they give me space. We gab for a few more minutes. Brooklyn has more opinions on my shitty hair style. Finally we ask the sweet, beyond patient goddesses of the spa back in to finish our massage session. I’m gonna quit my job, I think to myself as Salina’s hands make their way through the knots in my shoulders. I’m going to quit my job. I’m going to figure out what I want. I’m going to figure out what makes me happy. It’s going to take some time, some work and the support of some fucking good friends—and a pain in the ass sister— but I’m going to make it work.

* * *

“Just give me one,” Brooklyn says. I smack her hand away as she reaches over my shoulder and tries to go for the large plastic container in my lap.

“Mufucka, if you don’t—you ate almost all of my test batches and I made you your own batch.”

“Listen. Didn’t no one tell you to start making the most bomb ass donuts New York has ever seen.”

“Well these aren’t for you, so relax.”

“Okay, we’re almost there,” Noa says.

“Thanks for driving,” I tell her.

“Of course. But if this all works out, you’re gonna have to get your license, boo.”

“If.”

“Don’t worry. It will,” Noa says. “Just let him taste those donuts.”

I’ve thought a lot of things. Had some good cries with my therapist. I’ve quit my job. The first week was scary, but as soon as I caught up on sleep and got my ass in the kitchen, I knew I’d made the right decision. Only one piece was missing.

“Your destination is on the left. McInroy’s Apple Farm,” the GPS announces in her robotic voice.

“Here we are,” Noa adds. We turn down the road in the rental SUV she was kind enough to sign out for us for the weekend. We pull into the main entrance of the farm and it feels so strange to be back. To see the whole property stretching out in front of me. It’s late in the season, but it’s a crisp Saturday afternoon and the sun is out. The place is packed.

“There should be parking up there on the left,” I tell Noa. Silas is standing right where I’m pointing. “Oh fuck. That’s him.” Silas is less than twenty feet in front of us, walking toward the cannery.

“Hot damn!” Brooklyn says.

“Okay, the drive was totally worth it,” Noa adds as she slows the car to a stop right in the middle of the lane. “He’s fine. Well there he is. Go.”

“Wait, I just—”

“Girl! What are you waiting for?! Go!” Brooklyn says. She gives me a shove on the shoulder.

“Yeah, go!” Noa says. “We’ll park and wait.”

“Um, no. I’m starving and then I want to pet the animals,” Brooklyn says.

“Fine. I’m going.”

I jump out of the SUV, careful not to drop my precious cargo. And then I call out his name. “Silas!” He sees me right away and stops. He just stares at me for a moment, then blinks. I swallow sixty-seventy times in the seconds it takes me to cross the straw covered parking lot to him.

“Hi,” I say, in this oddly cheerful way.

“Hey.” He’s in shock. His brown eyes are so wide and his mouth is hanging open a little. It’s so good to see him, it almost hurts. He looks exactly the same. Still tall and brawny for no damn reason. Skin still glistening brown with half a day’s heavy lifting under his belt. He’s breaking in a new hat. Blue with, I think, the Scottish flag across the front. His hair is starting to curl at the base of his neck. It’s longer, but it works for him.

“You look good,” I say. Like an idiot.

“So do you. I like your hair.” He reaches up and touches one of the faux locs I have hanging past my shoulders.  “I’ve been thinking about you a lot,” he says.

“You have?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve been thinking about you too.”

“Are you here—”

“Ebie!” I turn around and Ginny is standing in the back door to the cannery, waving.

“No!” Silas says. “Get out of here! Go back inside!”

“Give me five,” I call back to her, laughing. “I’ll be there in a sec.”

“Hurry. We’re making jam!” She ducks back in the door, but not without flicking off Silas first. I let out a snort and turn back to Silas.

“So, I uh, I quit my job. Well my most recent law-related job,” I tell him.

“You did?”

“Yeah. It didn’t suit me much. I took up baking. I’m working on setting up an online store now and looking for kitchen space to rent. I’m starting to outgrow my apartment’s counter and pantry space.”

“That’s cool. You did seem pretty into Martha Stewart when you were here. I didn’t know you could actually bake.”

“I can. I just didn’t have much time before. Or, well, I didn’t make time. These are for you.” I take the lid off the plastic container and show him my wares. “These are amaretto peach donuts. And these are apple cheesecake tarts and these are pumpkin sugar cookies.”

“Can I try one now?”

“Please.” He grabs one of the donuts and takes a huge bite. I feel myself smiling. No tiny sampling for Silas McInroy. His eyes flash wide as he considers the donut and then looks back at me.

“These are fucking good.”

“Thanks. I wanted the peach to really come through.” He just nods, then finishes the other half in one bite. I slide the top back on and hold the container out to him. “These are all for you.”

“Thank you. I’m not sharing them with Ginny or Maya.”

“Don’t worry, I made them their own batch. They’re in the car. Um, I actually was hoping to talk to you, all three of you and Mason, about expanding the cannery and the cafe. Maybe adding a bakery?”

“Yes,” he blurts out without hesitation.

“Yes?”

“I want you to run it,” he says so fast, I almost don’t process it at first.

“I’d love that.”

“You’d have to be close though. I mean to run it. Wouldn’t really make sense for you to run it from the city.”

“I know… I figured. I’d like that.”

“I still don’t want to be your friend.”

I feel the tears rising in my eyes, but happy tears. “I don’t want to be your friend either. I’ve been thinking a lot. I still don’t particularly like you, but I think I love you a lot.” My voice breaks and the tears start running down my face. More rush down when Silas gathers me in his arms. He’s still holding on to those baked goods for dear life, but his other hand cradles my head to his massive chest. This feels like home.

“I was worried you wouldn’t forgive me,” I say.

“I was never mad at you. Ever. I just—”

“I get it. Trust me. You just need what you need,” I say and then I look up into his eyes. “I need you too. I want you.”

“I want you too. Can I kiss you now?”

“Absolutely.” I step up on my tip toes and press my lips to his. More tears slip out of my eyes as we kiss and kiss. Pure joy and pure happiness, interrupted by my loud ass fucking sister.

“Ah yeah!” I hear her scream across the parking lot.

I step back and groan.

“Do you know that person?” he asks.

“I do. Do you want to meet my sister?”

“Sure. We might have to bring her along though.” I turn around and spot Honeycrisp coming around the corner of the cannery. I’ve never been so happy to see a dog in my entire life.

“Hey girl!” I say as I squat down to the ground. She makes a beeline right for me, sprinting like her life depends on it. She almost knocks me over when she collides into my chest. I ruffle her fur as I dodge her attempt to ply me with her puppy kisses.

“Don’t let that dog lick you in the face!” Brooklyn says with disgust. I laugh and stand, still patting Honeycrisp’s side. I grab Silas’s free hand.

“Come on. She just gets louder.”

He looks at me and smiles as we start walking. My chest feels better than fine. It feels great.