“Miss you too,” I say, and there’s a sharp sadness in my chest for the missed chance to walk through Marine Park with Cole after the gig I was supposed to play. He always hums riffs at me like a challenge and I make up words to go along. We watch the sunrise over the Navesink River and then we get breakfast sandwiches from the deli on Broad Street and record songs in his basement until we can’t stay awake anymore. It’s one of my favorite ways to spend time. I know it’s a long shot that Ray will follow me, that he even could, but I feel like I have a target on my back. I told him where I was going. I broke a rule. I broke so many rules.

I make more phone calls and drive to New York City instead.

— Chapter 33 —

I scan the restaurant. He isn’t here yet. I try to sneak out before anyone notices me, but the host comes over and hustles me to a table by the window.

Now he’ll see me before I see him, unless I stare out the window and try to catch him walking down Bedford Street, but that would look desperate. I rustle through the contents of my bag, wishing I had a day planner or a fancy purse—something classy to play with while I wait. My messy hair and long skirt are starting to look more street urchin than free spirit, and I’m surprised the host put me right up front in the window. I am not what this restaurant is trying to advertise. Everyone else is in a dark suit or done up in an outfit that looks like it came off a mannequin in a department store. Even though I tried to straighten up in the car, I look like I came from the bottom of a laundry hamper. My thrift store peacoat has a hole in the elbow.

Matthew suggested this place. “You’ll love it. Fantastic paninis,” he’d said on the phone. I wasn’t sure which word sounded weirder coming out of his mouth, fantastic or paninis, but I just needed to hear his voice.

I take a CD out of my bag and decide I’ll sign it for him in advance, but then he walks in wearing a brown leather jacket. Sparkling sunglasses and shiny watch throwing light everywhere. His old life must seem ridiculous to him now. I bet he never goes deer hunting. I bet the things he used to want feel like a bad dream he had once. He’s not Matty anymore.

I shove the CD back in my bag and stand. My thigh hits the table. Water spills on crisp paper placemats. Ice and silverware clink.