28

Emily was immediately charmed when she stepped foot into their brownstone. The pristine living room was a mirror image of the one she had seen on Brandon’s phone when he’d first showed her. The rug was square. The throw pillows were fluffed and stacked in a row along the back of the L-shaped couch. Knickknacks and picture frames were free of dust. Brandon had a housekeeper. No doubt about it.

Emily set her bag down and wandered through the expansive four-story home. It was, down to the last detail, everything she could have ever wanted in a Chicago residence. What moved her most was a large wall heading up the second flight of stairs leading to the third floor that held dozens of empty picture frames. Written across the white paper inside the frames were the names of places they had talked about going. The Great Wall of China. Prague. Costa Rica. The Great Barrier Reef. Machu Picchu. Canary Islands. Amalfi Coast. Places Brandon wanted to take her. Place she would have willingly gone. Memories in waiting.

Emily went out the back, across the small yard to the garage in the alley. She thought it was the most logical place to find boxes of her things. But all she could find were Brandon’s bike and toolbox.

She went into the house and into the master bedroom. She looked into the closet, surprised to find her clothes, not packed, but perfectly hung on one side of the walk-in. Her sweaters, jeans, and workout clothes were folded on the shelf above it. And her shoe collection lay in color coordination from whites to creams to nudes to blacks on the shoe rack. Jackets and coats were hung in a separate, smaller closet in the room, with boots on the floor under the coats. He was expecting her to come back and move in.

Her heart pinged with pain at this tender act of taking such good care of her things. After a few more moments of admiring it, she went to her car and dragged up a large, empty suitcase of her father’s. One by one, Emily took the pieces off each hanger and rolled them into the suitcase. It didn’t take long before it was filled. Emily made a quick mental calculation of what was left. Over half done. Not including coats and boots. She would need boxes. She started to text Brandon to ask if he would bring some from the hospital. There were always stacks of them down by the incinerator in the basement. Before she had a chance to press send, the closet door creaked.

“Hey, you’re here.” Brandon greeted her with an eager smile.

Emily spun around, sweater in hand. “Hi.” He looked great in his scrubs, hair disheveled. “Good day?”

“They’re always good,” said the gorgeous optimist leaning against the doorframe. “But they’re better when you’re here.”

She didn’t know what to say. So she wadded up the sweater and tossed it back onto the shelf.

“I … sort of underestimated the size of my wardrobe. I was just texting you to bring some—”

Before she could finish, Brandon slid a stack of boxes from the bedroom into the closet. “I thought you might need these.”

“I also didn’t expect you to have unpacked all my stuff. Thanks, I think.” She realized now that it had been a colossal waste of his time. “I appreciate the thought behind it anyhow.”

Brandon nodded. “Obviously I expected things to go a little differently.”

She nodded. Neither wanted to touch the unhealed wounds between them.

“May I help you?”

“Ah, please.”

“Otherwise you might be here all night. And I have some special plans in mind.”

“What are you cooking us?”

Brandon was a self-taught chef who loved to showcase his creations for one or twenty.

“Actually, I decided not to cook tonight. There’s a new place I want to take you,” he said, putting a box together.

“Where’s that?” Emily grabbed the sweater she had just tossed onto the shelf and rolled it. This was also a trick Brandon had taught her when they’d started traveling together. Rolling the clothes kept them from wrinkling.

“I say no more. Let’s finish this up. Shower. Change. And we’ll be off. Sound good?”

It did sound good. Brandon had a plan per usual. It would feel wonderful to shut off her brain for an evening and just go along for the ride.

While Brandon showered, Emily freshened up in the guest bath where Brandon had thoughtfully laid out towels and toiletries for her. This was the kind of caring, thoughtful man Brandon was. The consummate host. Always wanting to make sure everyone felt comfortable and taken care of. At least, when he wasn’t working. Or preoccupied with his nose in a textbook. As long as Brandon was in charge and his plans were on the table, everyone could relax and have a good time.

Emily, now in a fresh change of clothes, waited on the living room couch for Brandon to come down. The couch felt amazing on her tired legs and back. She sunk in, remembering how much she loved this piece of furniture. She had helped Brandon pick out this couch for his former apartment. She had sat and slept on it more times than she could count. It made this new habitat feel like home.

As she scanned the room more carefully a second time, she noticed that most of the items were new. New lamps. New artwork. New window dressings. Brandon had taken care of it in his way. On his terms. She hadn’t been consulted about her preferences. How would he feel if she wanted to change the rug? Hang different curtains? Paint the walls turquoise instead of Dapper Tan?

She heard Brandon coming down the wooden staircase from the third level where the master bedroom was located. When he arrived in the living room, she expected him to clap his hands together twice and announce, “Ready!” like he usually did. More of a command than a question. But he didn’t. He smiled and took a seat next to her on the couch.

“How have you been?” he said in a steady voice.

“Moving forward. You ready?” She started to rise.

“No, wait. Have a seat. I mean, really, how are you? With everything?”

Emily paused. It was unlike Brandon to be so reflective. What was he getting at?

He read her blank stare and filled in. “What’s been going on in Freeport? How are things with your dad’s estate? And this new case they threw on you? That was crazy. I think I woulda told them to shove off.” He laughed a little. She did, too. It was crazy, but she didn’t want to talk about it. She wanted to leave Freeport in her rearview mirror for the moment.

“I’m getting through it.” That was honest.

Brandon seemed disappointed. “Come on, Em. It’s me. I still care.”

“I can’t really disclose anything about the case. And my dad’s estate is complicated and detailed and … time-consuming.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

She thought for a second about how to respond. And about the irony that he was asking now. Much, much after the fact. A huge part of her was gone, and he would never understand it.

“No. I’m just trying to adjust to the idea that I don’t have any more time with him,” she said.

“I thought I’d have more time, too,” he said softly. “Emily. I’m sorry I didn’t come up sooner. I’m sorry I didn’t get to know him better. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

He reached for her hand, and she let him take it. He rubbed it between his own, dry and rough from surgical gloves and frequent washings. “I want to try. I am … trying to try. Will you let me?”

She was stunned by his confession and believed he was sincere. This was the conversation she had wanted to have two months ago.

“Do you still want a life in Chicago?” he asked.

“That’s a big question right now.”

She had invested so much in her training.

“Do you still want a life with me?” he asked.

“That’s an even bigger question.”

She had invested so much in their relationship.

He smiled. “Maybe I should start with a smaller question. How do you like the house?”

Emily glanced around the room, her eyes coming to rest on a large potted palm branching out from the corner. She liked the tropical flavor it added—it reminded her of their trips to the Caribbean in the middle of harsh Chicago winters.

“Would you ever put twinkle lights on an indoor plant?”

“That’s a funny question.”

“Why? Just answer.”

Brandon’s voice remained calm, but Emily recognized the familiar tension at play when someone wasn’t seeing eye to eye with him. “Twinkle lights, huh? That’s more of an outdoor look, don’t you think?”

“I like them all year round,” Emily said. “There’s something magical about them.”

Brandon gazed over at the palm, then back to Emily. “But if we have them all year, then they’re not special in the summer or at Christmas.”

“But would you do it anyway? Just for fun. For me?”

“I mean … for a party, maybe? Why?” he pressed. “What are you getting at?”

“Never mind.”

He took her other hand. “Are you hungry?”

“Definitely. Please tell me it’s a Thai place.”

“Only three blocks from here.”

Emily pulled herself from the depths of the cozy pillow stack.

“You’ll need your winter coat. Nights are getting nippy.”

She realized Brandon had unpacked that, too. “Where?”

“Master closet. Top shelf. Next to the box with the winter scarves.”

As she climbed the stairs, Emily again passed by all those empty frames with the names of far-off places.

She realized that these were the things that made Brandon happy. And she didn’t really need any of those trips to be happy. Twinkle lights on indoor plants could be enough.