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It’s a face I’d recognize anywhere. My spine stiffens and my feet falter, energy spiking through my veins.
“Are you okay?” Carla asks.
It’s like seeing a ghost. Unbelievable, though I’m looking right at it. Maybe my mind’s playing tricks on me. Or maybe my heart just doesn’t want to believe that he’s really here.
Could be a mirage. When’s the last time I drank water?
“Do you know that man?” Carla whispers.
Nope. Not a mirage. Carla sees him too.
My mouth opens but no sound comes out.
My eyes are fixed on him as he weaves through the crowded sidewalk. He looks exactly like the man I once knew. Only, I don’t know him at all. Not anymore.
Anxiety twists my insides as he nears, my heart pounding louder with each step he takes.
I glance down at his shoes.
Still shiny.
“Thomas?” he asks, tearing me out of my dazed stupor.
I nod, still searching for words. A boulder has lodged itself in my throat.
Woods smiles and his arms open wide.
For me.
Carla nudges me toward him until my feet remember how to move. I take three clumsy steps and then his arms are around me.
“My God, I can’t believe it’s you,” Woods says. “I’ve always wondered what happened to you. I’ve looked all over this city.”
He has?
Woods pulls away and holds me out in front of him. His face is streaked with tears. “Look at you. You’re a man now.”
Carla clears her throat. “Why don’t we grab a cup of coffee? We’re kind of taking up the sidewalk here.” She gestures at the people stepping around us.
“I’d love to, if that’s all right with you.” Woods smiles and extends his hand. “I’m Philip Woods.”
Carla turns to me, eyes like saucers, before she shakes his hand. “Woods? Oh, my God. It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Carla.”
“Whaddya say?” he asks, clapping me on the back. “Got some time to sit down and catch up?”
“Sure,” I say. “Let’s go.”
We walk across the street to a small café. Woods keeps looking back over his shoulder at me, like he’s afraid to let me out of his sight. I grip Carla’s hand like a lifeline.
“This is fate, baby,” Carla whispers in my ear. “Just say whatever is in your heart.”
Thank God for this woman. I don’t know what I did to deserve her, but I am not ever letting go. I place a swift peck on her lips before we enter the café and find a table.
“Order whatever you both want. It’s on me,” Woods says.
“You don’t have to do that.” It’s the first coherent sentence I’m able to speak. “It’ll be my treat.”
Woods nods in understanding, a smile spreading on his face. “If you insist.”
