The Road Trip Rewind by Kate Tamberelli

Author:Kate Tamberelli [Tamberelli;Tamberelli]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Books
Published: 2024-02-12T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Rocco

Thursday, December 30, 1999

“Oh my god, she saw me. I mean, I saw me?” Bea shakes her head; her whole body is shaking. I put my hands on her shoulders to help steady her, guiding her to the edges of the crowd for more privacy. “We made eye contact.”

“I think you’re good,” I say, even if there’s no way either of us could be sure. This whole holiday party venture might be our best idea yet, or just as easily the worst. “They’re already heading back inside. See?” I tilt my head toward our youthful counterparts, just beyond the glass doors now. Walking into a gymnasium-sized living room. “Holding hands, smiling, giggling. It’s hard to look away from them, isn’t it? Their energy together. It reminds me of last night. This morning, too. The way you looked at me in the hotel room, the way she’s looking at him tonight.”

Dammit, mouth. Too much. I’m wise enough to shut my lips, but still, my brain won’t stop whirring—is that how I look at Bea now, too? Like I’ve managed to find the most magical woman in the room? Against all foreseeable odds?

Bea stiffens beneath my hands and takes a step to the side, shrugging my arms off. “Well, Rocco, I’m glad you’ve had that flash of hindsight. Because it’s not easy for me to see them, so giddy like that. Considering the next day is New Year’s Eve.”

Ah yes, the icy chill returns. Understandably, after my word vomit. But at least I helped to distract from her anxieties about being spotted. A semi-win.

“I’m sorry, that would have worked better as an inner monologue. It slipped out. Because it’s just . . . so strange and unsettling to see us in the flesh, I’m not sure how to properly organize my thoughts. The first time was such a shock, I couldn’t take it all the way in. Tonight, though, feels so crystal clear. Showing me just how good it felt at the time. You . . . you really did make me happy.”

Before Bea can dish up additional feedback, we hear a SNAP! from somewhere near the perimeter of the backyard, partitioned off by a bunch of arborvitaes and other dense shrubbery. Quicky followed by another snap, louder than the first. Maybe hanging out in the backyard was a bad idea.

“This is the hills!” Bea whisper-screams. “That could be a mountain lion stalking us!”

“Let’s think rationally,” I say, hopefully sounding calmer than I feel, for her sake. Both our sakes, really, because we don’t want to cause a scene. “That is a giant fortress of thick, wild bush.”

“Ugh, you said bush,” she says, straight lipped, obviously fighting to not crack a grin.

Bea needs to pick a mood and stick with it; I need some fountain champagne to help cope with these emotional spins. She no longer seems scared, at least, but more inquisitive, squinting into the foliage. There’s another round then, louder still and closer: snaps, crinkling leaves, scratches. Bea reverts back to scared mode, latching tightly onto my shoulders from behind.

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