Page 30 of Lost With My Enemy

"She got her photo," I say. "The one I took. In Manitoba."

"She got her photo." He wipes his face with the heel of his hand. "Seven months late. With a thumb in the corner."

"It was a good thumb."

He laughs, wet and broken and real. Then he pulls me into him, and I press my face against his shoulder, and we sit on the carpet surrounded by blankets and birthday cards and a letter from a woman I never met who asked for the one thing I gave him without thinking.

After a while, his breathing evens out. My hand is in his hair. The apartment is quiet except for the February wind against the windows and the faint sound of traffic on the street below.

"I love you," he says against my temple. Unhurried, steady, the same way he says it every time. Like he wants me to hear every letter.

"I love you too." My fingers trace the back of his neck. "Even though you still don't measure rice."

"The rice is always perfect."

"The rice is always a gamble."

He pulls back, and his face is blotchy, his eyes red, and his smile is the wide, crinkled one that still makes my stomach flip after six months.

"Kenzie wants us in Edmonton for Easter," he says. "She's making a roast. She told me to tell you to bring your planner because she wants to see the colour-coding system in person."

"I like Kenzie."

"She likes you more than she likes me. She's been very clear about that."

My phone buzzes on the nightstand across the room. The screen lights up with Sloane's name.

So remember Ivy Hollow last August? The wine festival at the vineyard and that little town where everyone knows everyone and the barista remembered your coffee order after one visit?

My mouth curves. Of course I remember. We flew from Calgary three days after the road trip ended, still jet-lagged and sunburned, straight into a vineyard festival in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Jaxon spent the whole weekend photographing the town while I followed Sloane around and tried to pretend my life hadn't just changed completely somewhere on the Trans-Canada. The vineyard owner poured us wine at sunset, and a woman named Maren told me she could tell we were "being very weird about it," which was accurate.

I remember.

Griffin's moving there this summer. Got a teaching job at the high school. And he wants us to come back for the festival again in August. Bring Jaxon, bring the camera, stay at the inn. Nora's already holding a room.

My thumbs move fast.

I think I need to check with Jaxon but he'll say yes to anything involving a road trip.

YOU'RE DRIVING AGAIN??

We're driving.

Elise Marie Boyd. You WANT to drive across the country again.

I want to drive across the country with him. There's an August colour on my planner now. It's copper.

I'm screaming. I'm literally screaming. Finn thinks something's wrong. I have to go explain that my best friend has feelings now. SEE YOU IN IVY HOLLOW.

My phone goes dark. Jaxon is watching me from the floor, the blanket draped over his knees, birthday cards spread around him.

"Sloane?"

"Griffin's moving to Ivy Hollow this summer. He wants us back for the festival in August."

His eyebrows lift. "Road trip?"

"Road trip."