A bit dazed by this new development, I get in the car, and we drive back to New York. When Mason starts telling me all about his freelancing plans and how this is a blessing in disguise, I turn on the radio. Not now, Mason.

We’re minutes from my house when I notice the text Alisa sent. She booked me on the last flight of the night, and I realize that I shouldn’t let losing my job ruin this for me. The surprise. My birthday. California.

Four

When I arrive in San Francisco, the weather is fantastic. Brilliant sunshine, short-sleeve temperature. Simply perfect.

I call and then text David, but there’s no response. He doesn’t know I’m here or how terrible the last twenty-four hours have been, I remind myself. I hope he’s going to be excited when he sees me. He’ll tell me everything will be fine, and I’ll find another job quickly, and I’ll smile, although I know it’s a lie. It’s hard to find another job when your previous boss hates you and is most likely not writing you a recommendation. But I don’t want to think about this now. Also, I don’t want to think that David might not be as supportive as I’m hoping. Our relationship has been struggling lately. No negative thoughts; just good vibes. I’ll think about this beautiful day spent here. And how it will help us and how amazing and romantic it will be.

I congratulate myself on the idea as I sit on a bench in front of the airport and wait for David to see my messages and call me back. I didn’t tell him in my text that I’m here. Just that I have a surprise and he should get back to me ASAP.

There are so many people around, all rushing to get somewhere, maybe meet someone. If I stayed here, I’d have enough material for fifty stories. I pull my notebook and take a few notes.

I don’t even realize when time passes, and when I recheck my phone, I notice it’s been almost twenty minutes. And there’s still no sign from him.

Knock knock, I text him.

Nothing. Five more minutes. Ten. Fifteen. It’s now been over forty minutes. I text again.

Finally, my phone beeps. A message from David.

Who are you looking for?

I’m looking for a man, I text. The reply comes seconds later.

I’m a man, but I doubt you’re looking for me

He’s funny. I respond in the same tone.

How about this then? I’m looking for a love connection.

Sure, OK. Can you describe the owner of the phone please and give me a name?

Blond. Tall. Hunky. Surfer-like. David, the best boyfriend on the East Coast.

A few seconds later.

Now I know who it is. Are you guys still at Embarcadero?

He does have a talent for pushing things too far sometimes. Limits, David, limits.

Stop, I text back. But I don’t get a chance to send it, because a new text arrives.