When Sarah Cohen wants something, she works until she has it, which made it difficult to rein her in when it came to the post-wedding wedding party she was so desperate to throw for Kitty and me. Over a period of a couple of weeks, we managed to talk her out of throwing a huge ceremony in the middle of November, less than a month after Kitty was supposed to have married Levi. It took a while to convince her that we really didn't want it, that we weren't just being gracious.
Instead, on the first night of Hanukkah, my family and Kitty's family gathered at her parents' mini mansion out in Cambridge and, forty days after we got married, we exchanged proper wedding rings under a canopy in the garden where Kitty grew up. It gave us a chance to share our vows, too. On our actual wedding night, we repeated everything the officiant said. But in front of our families, we spoke from our hearts before the reciting of the three blessings and the lighting of the menorah.
It was perfect. More perfect than I thought it would be. I didn't want to step on the toes of the holiday celebrations but it was Sarah's idea. Hanukkah means dedication, after all, she said, and it's a celebration of bringing light to the world. What better time for Kitty and me to proclaim our dedication to one another?
Now we have two anniversaries to celebrate. The one we kept for ourselves, and the one we shared with the people we love.
Today, however, is neither.
I can't believe that just over a year ago, I was counting down the hours until I joined my best friend on her honeymoon and I didn't understand why I was so relieved that she'd called off her wedding. A year ago today, I spilled my guts to her after having the revelation of all revelations, the realization that would change the entire trajectory of my life. I guess it's a third anniversary of sorts. The day we went from best friends to lovers.
When I was in the midst of it, when I was convinced my love would be forever unrequited, it was the most exquisite pain. Now I wouldn't change it for anything. That week of heartache, when I yearned in secret, was beyond worth it for its reward. The woman sleeping next to me now, her semi-naked body washed in early dawn light, the sun painting amber highlights in her glossy chestnut hair. I roll onto my side to kiss her sleep-warm shoulder, inhaling the scent of her.
This will never grow old. Every morning I wake up before her and I watch her for a moment, the steady way she breathes when she is deeply asleep, her lips parted, her eyes fluttering. Every morning I make coffee and the aroma rouses her; when I return to the bedroom, I can almost guarantee she will be sitting up in bed, yawning or stretching or rubbing her eyes, and she will take a mug from me with a grateful smile.
This morning I make it a little stronger. We've got a busy day ahead of us.
It's five days before Halloween, one year and a little under two weeks since Kitty and I flew to Las Vegas. The fall foliage is at its best, Boston so beautiful this time of year: half of the leaves are still green, half of them beautiful shades of crimson and rust and gold. In two days, we will have been married for twelve whole months, and I couldn't have asked for a better year with my wife. She lights up my world every single day, every single night.
The sun only finished its slow dawn rise a matter of minutes ago but I can tell it's going to be a beautiful day. I open the kitchen window as I brew the coffee and the crisp air is cool, the sun already bright, shades of blue seeping into the yellow sky . A perfect fall day with that autumn smell in the air, damp and earthy and sweet, although we won't get to enjoy much of it because in ninety minutes, we'll be standing in a security line at Boston Logan ahead of six and a half hours on a plane from one end of the country to the other.
When I return to the bedroom with coffee, Kitty is sitting up, her face screwed up in the middle of a yawn. "Morning, gorgeous," I say, setting her mug on her bedside table. Hers is a mess – a stack of books she's either halfway through or about to start; two half-drunk glasses of water; yesterday's coffee mug and several scrunchies and an open pack of make-up wipes. Mine is the opposite. The one book I'm reading right now; my glasses case; a water bottle.
"What time is it?" Her voice is croaky.
"Seven."
"Ugh. It's Sunday, Fliss. Seven o'clock on a Sunday morning is not a time I am designed to ever know."
"I know. But we've got a big day ahead of us."
Kitty holds the coffee in both hands and doesn't say anything until she's finished half of it. It's more French vanilla creamer than it is coffee, just enough caffeine in it to give her a boost. "What time do we have to leave?"
"The flight's at ten, so we want to have our backs to this place by seven forty-five," I say. We're already packed – I learned from last year's errors – so all we have to do is shower and put on the clothes we laid out last night. We'll grab breakfast in the airport, something to do with all the time we'll inevitably be left with when security takes a fraction of the time it could.
"So I can sleep for another twenty minutes," Kitty says with a grunt. She is not a morning person.
"Absolutely not, unless you want me to drag your ass to the airport."
She yawns and rests her head against the headboard, eyes closed, and says, "You can drag my ass wherever you want if it means I can sleep."
"I will get on the plane without you."
"Relax, it leaves in three hours, Fliss. We have loads of time."
*
We leave late, because of course we do. There's traffic. Of course there is. The line for security is longer than I've ever seen it, and we have bags to check.
"It'll be fine," Kitty says as we stand behind about fifty other people waiting to check their bags. "They're not going to let us miss the plane when we're in the airport."
"While I admire your confidence, I don't share it," I say, shifting from foot to foot to try to alleviate the anxiety building with every minute that we don't move. It's eight fifteen. Eight twenty. Eight thirty before we hand over our bags at the check-in desk and join the back of the crowd heading towards security. We have TSA PreCheck but it doesn't help when so does seemingly everyone in Boston. Where the hell is everyone going at nine o'clock on a Sunday morning?
"Relax," Kitty whispers. "It's against the law to look so tense in an airport. You're definitely gonna get frisked if you don't unclench your asshole."
I can't help but laugh, and some of my nerves dissipate as we shuffle forward agonizingly slowly.
Boarding opens at nine thirty. It's nine fifteen before we are spat out the other end of security, hurrying to pull on our shoes and find our bags so we can grab something to eat before we get on the plane. My stomach's been rumbling since I woke up nearly three hours ago, my coffee barely filling the hole. The post-security Dunkin' calls my name, my feet carrying me there before my brain kicks into gear, and I am happy once I have a sausage egg and cheese sandwich in one hand and an iced coffee in the other. Kitty ambles by my side with her plant-based sausage sandwich, not a hint of stress in her aura.
"Just because boarding starts in ten minutes doesn't mean we have to be there in ten minutes," she says. "We've got ages, Fliss, you don't have to eat so fast. You're gonna get indigestion, take a minute."
I do as I'm told. She's right. Intellectually, I know she's right, and if we get to our gate now, we'll be standing around for the next half an hour, but I'd still rather be hanging around with my plane in sight. Kitty stands in front of me, lifting up on her tiptoes so we're the same height, and she does her hypnotizing face, when she looks deep into my eyes until all I can think about is the swirl of her irises.
"We're going to get there. Everything is okay. Our gate is right there." She points down the concourse.
There it is. Flight 13013, Boston to Seattle, on time to depart at ten a.m. and arrive at SeaTac at half past one this afternoon. I take a deep breath and let it out and laugh in the face of my anxiety. I wasn't this anxious when we missed our flight last year, but there was no-one relying on us then. Now, there's someone waiting at the other end.
We have a couple seats booked on the three p.m. train out of Seattle, a scenic journey through the mountains and alongside rivers and past the best of fall that Washington State has to offer, and if all goes to plan we should arrive in Amber Creek at five in time to meet Leila.
This trip has been a long time in the making. When Kitty and I decided we wanted to spend our first anniversary in style – another big trip, another three weeks off work – there was no doubt that visiting Leila in her cute little Bavarian-style Washington town was top of the list. Amber Creek will be our base for four days as we make the most of this year's late fall to see the state's three national parks, North Cascades and Rainier and Olympic, before we rent a car and head down the coast. After stopping by Crater Lake National Park in Oregon, we'll continue down to California and check out the eight parks other than Death Valley.
It's safe to say the plan to make our park visits last as long as our marriage went out of the window seeing as we'll see twelve in the next twenty-one days and, in the last year, we've taken day trips to six more. Much to Sally's disgruntlement, I've discovered the joy of making the most of my unlimited paid time off and now I take at least a day or two each month to travel with my wife.
In November we drank hot apple cider in Acadia, in Maine. In December, we checked out the snow-topped beauty of the Great Smoky Mountains in North Carolina and headed into Tennessee to check out the Winterfest Lights in Gatlinburg. In March we took a whole week off to fly down to D.C. and after a couple days in the capital, we rented a car and drove to Shenandoah in Virginia, then on to West Virginia to check out New River Gorge and Babcock State Park. In June, after checking out the serene beauty of Ohio's Cuyahoga Valley, we made a last minute decision to fly from Cleveland to Chicago and take the train to Indiana Dunes after we spent a romantic weekend in the Windy City.
There is beauty to be found in every state we've been to so far, and I'm ready for Washington to blow me away. Kitty's travel map is looking a lot more colorful than it did last year and we're about to scratch off another two states.
"Okay, I'm relaxed now," I say once we're in our seats. We sprang for first class this time. The row is ours alone, two wide seats with extra legroom and more recline and free WiFi.
"See? Everything's fine," Kitty says, her hand warm on my knee. We both jump when my phone starts buzzing like mad in my pocket and Kitty laughs. "Leila?"
I take it out and show her the screen. "Leila."
omg i just woke up and i am SO EXCITED!!!
TEN HOURS TO GO!!
i can't wait to see you guys again
i am SO PUMPED that this is really happening
apparently your plane's on time to leave at 10 so i hope your butts are in your seats
ill be at amber creek station at 5oclock ON THE DOT so youd better make that train
lmk if you miss it and ill come to seattle & get you
I send her a selfie of Kitty and me, our butts firmly planted in our seats, and I say, don't worry we're on the plane, we will not miss that train, can't wait to see you at five!
fly safe! i will do my best not to die of boredom and anticipation at work
I send her a hug and a heart and put my phone away. As the plane starts to taxi, I lean on the double-wide arm rest between us with my palm up. Kitty slips her hand into mine, our fingers entwined when we lift into the sky.
*
We land ten minutes ahead of time. Our bags are among the first to come out at baggage claim and we're in a taxi by a quarter after two. Traffic is light. The drive to the Amtrak station in the heart of the city only takes fifteen minutes, giving us time to relax and grab a coffee before we board our train.
"This is the way to travel," Kitty says, stretching out in the large, luxurious train seat as we pull out of the station a few minutes after three. I text Leila with an update. We'll be with her in a couple hours. "What were we doing this time last year?"
"Um, I think we were floating in the lazy river in Vegas and kind of ignoring each other," I say. "We had that fight before we went to the Bellagio restaurant."
"Oh shit, yeah." Kitty laughs and shakes her head. "That was so fucking stupid. We literally argued because we were both in love and neither of us wanted to be the first to admit it."
"And," I point out, "you accused me of being in love with Leila."
"It was a legitimate concern!" she cries out, her eyes glittering with amusement. "I'm telling you, Fliss, I was so disgustingly in love that the thought of you having a crush on Leila actually made me want to throw up. It was like this black cloud over me."
"Good thing you're the only one I have a crush on." I kiss the back of her hand. It's true. We've been married for a year and I still have a crush on her, that giddy feeling in my chest when she smiles at me, butterflies in my stomach every time she kisses me. It still astounds me that I am hers. That I get to call her my wife, that every day I want to impress her, want to make her laugh, want to slow dance with her in the kitchen.
"Guess what," Kitty says, leaning close, her coconut-scented curls brushing my cheek.
"What?"
Her lips graze my earlobe. "I have a crush on you too."
*
The views are spectacular. We spend the entire journey glued to the window, trying to capture the beauty of Washington in fall as we travel through the mountains and past forests full of every shade of green and brown, orange and red, yellow and gold. It's magnificent, especially against the blue sky that has followed us from Boston to here. Under the bright autumn sun, the leaves are glistening gems. Ruby and amber and citrine and emerald, a rainbow of fall colors everywhere we look.
"And I thought Boston was beautiful in October," Kitty says, taking a photo as we cross over a gentle tree-lined river at the base of a mountain, every color in the frame.
Washington is stunning, putting on its best show for us as we leave behind the city buzz of Seattle and head deep into the rural mountainous countryside. I had this romantic notion of reading on the train while the gorgeous scenery flashed by outside, but I can't focus on a book when I can't tear my eyes from the beauty all around.
Despite everything I've heard about Amtrak delays, we pull into Amber Creek Station almost exactly two hours after we left, only a few minutes behind schedule, and the moment we step into the station building with our bags, I spot Leila with her new lilac hair moments before she spots us.
And she runs. We're both almost knocked down by the force of her hug, her arms around us like a claw machine clutching a prize.
"I can't believe you're really here," she says, her face pressed into my right shoulder and Kitty's left.
"Can you believe it's been a whole year?" I say, hugging her as tightly as I can manage with one arm. Although the three of us have kept in constant contact since we were in Vegas, this is the first time that Kitty's and my travels have brought us this far east, closing the three thousand miles between us at long last.
"It feels like a decade," Leila says. "Come on, my car's this way."
We pile into her old Nissan hatchback and when she turns the car on, Taylor Swift blasts out of the speakers. Leila laughs and turns the music down but not off.
"I know you guys probably want to get to your hotel and dump your stuff before our early start tomorrow but you're just in time for sunset and town is so pretty at this time of day," she says, twisting round to face Kitty in the backseat. "Plus, there's something I want to show you."
We leave the station and head down a quiet road toward the town, and when we turn a corner, the heart of Amber Creek laid out before us, it takes my breath away. The town looks like something out of a picturebook. The buildings are shades of yellow and red and pink and green with exposed wooden beams and high pitched roofs, and a series of posts along the cobbled street make the center pedestrian-only. It's straight out of Bavaria. The streets are filled with light from old-fashioned street lamps as the sun slowly sinks towards the horizon, people milling about with takeout coffees in their hands.
"You never said that you live in a literal fairytale," I say with a breath of wonder as Leila parks up in a space off of the street. Amber Creek has the feel of a large village, close-knit and local; there are houses a stone's throw from the main street, ivy growing up their walls and carved pumpkins on the front steps.
"All I need now is my true love's kiss," Leila says, leading us towards the center of town.
"Let's start with a pumpkin," Kitty says as we pass one of the houses with three bright orange pumpkins on the porch, each one intricately carved.
"Does that make me Cinderella?" Leila does a twirl and I have to catch her elbow when she trips over a cobblestone.
"I'm not sure you have the poise required of a princess," I say, "but you deserve your own fairytale."
"I do have one, in a way," she says, coming to a stop outside an orange storefront and spreading her arms. "Welcome to the best place in town."
Kitty and I look up. Oh my god.
"Your bookstore is called Puss in Books?" Kitty asks, her mouth open. "That's fucking brilliant."
"It's not my bookstore," Leila says. "I only work here. But I do live in one of the apartments upstairs. And my boss let me borrow the key to the store so I could do this." She unlocks the door and throws it open, switching off the alarm and turning on the lights, bathing the bookstore in a bright glow. "We're only open from nine to five but you guys can't come to Amber Creek and not check out Puss in Books."
The store is heaven. All of the bookshelves are mismatched and painted in bright colors, a huge children's section at the back with beanbags and toys; there are little chalkboard plaques on the shelves with handwritten recommendations, most of which I recognize as Leila's handwriting, big and loopy and dotted with hearts and stars.
"You work in a fairytale bookstore in a fairytale town and you look like a princess," I say. "You're the kind of girl people read books about."
"My life could really do with a romantic subplot," Leila says with a sigh. She drops onto one of several sofas dotted around the store, all of which look like they've lived a hundred lives before and are probably insanely comfortable, and she gestures to the shelves. "You always post about getting a book from every cute indie bookstore you visit," she says to me. "Reckon my little store can make the cut?"
"Absolutely. This is literally the cutest bookstore I've ever been to," I say, and I gasp when I see a flick of a tail out of the corner of my eye. "Is there a cat here?"
"Duh." Leila laughs. "It's in the name. There are three, actually. Berlioz, Marie, and Toulouse. Like the cats from The Aristocats."
I take several photos and head straight for the table of new releases, picking out a hardcover thriller and a floppy romance, flashing the cover at Kitty. A sapphic Christmas love story with the cutest pink cover.
"Abso-fucking-lutely," she says, running her hand over the covers of the books. "Leila, when you were stressing about not using your degree for your job, you didn't mention that your job is an actual dream."
Leila gives us a starry-eyed smile and says, "I've come to my senses. I never want to leave this place."
Armed with a couple of new books, we walk down Main Street to the square at the bottom, where there's a food cart selling hot apple cider and another selling soft pretzels, and handfuls of people are gathering near a railing that overlooks the river.
"This is one of the best sunset spots in town," Leila says. The railing faces due west, offering an uninterrupted view of the glowing orange sun as it sinks. To the right, mountains loom over the town. To the left, the river flows south. The sun is reflected in the clear water, the sky on fire with the orange and red of a fall sunset and the leaves of the trees that line the river.
We watch until we can't see the sun anymore, the last sliver of burning light disappear below the tree line and the air takes on a chill. By the time we make it to the restaurant where Leila's made dinner reservations, the temperature has dropped to fifty-five degrees, and once we're in our Alpine-style hotel after two hours of catching up with Leila over food and a couple drinks, it's down to fifty.
"I love this kind of weather," Kitty says, sitting on the edge of our king size bed and gazing out of the picture window at what I can only imagine is an unparalleled view of the mountains and the river and the forest that encircles the town. It's too dark to see much now, except for the glittering of the light from a street lamp bouncing off the river.
"I though summer was your favorite," I say, unfolding the outfit I plan to wear tomorrow, when we get up at six to meet Leila and drive three hours to the North Cascades. Our schedule is packed for the next three weeks with a lot of early morning starts and long days, and I can't wait for every moment of it. I have to keep reminding myself to live in the moment – make the most of the now, everything else will have its time.
"Oh, I love summer," Kitty says. "I love all the colors and the flowers and the cute dresses and the sun and the long days. But this ... this is snuggling weather. This is hot chocolate and cozy sweaters and cuddles."
"You can cuddle me anytime, baby." I sashay across the room towards her and she takes my hands, lets me pull her to her feet and against my body. I hold her in my arms and we spin in a slow circle.
"What would you say if I quit my job to hug you all day?" she says, her cheek against mine.
"I think my boss would have some questions if I brought my wife to work every day."
"You'll just have to quit too."
"Done."
She grins. I can feel it, the way her cheek pushes into mine. I hug her even tighter, like if I hold her close enough we can become one.
"I love traveling with you," she says with a sigh. "I don't want to go anywhere without you. I want us to share every sight so I never have to worry that I can't do it justice with my words when I tell you about a sunset I saw."
"It's a good thing I don't ever plan to leave your side," I murmur, bringing our silent slow dance to an end so I can kiss her, her cheeks warm against my palms.
She slips her hands under my sweater, her hands cold against my waist, and says, "Did you know there's a jacuzzi on our balcony?"
*
"How unlimited is your unlimited PTO?" Kitty asks as we sit in the hot jacuzzi, the water bubbling around us from several powerful jets. It's a delicious contrast to the rapidly cooling night air.
"I don't know. Haven't read my contract recently. Why?"
"Life is short. I want to see the world with you. I want to take a train across the country with you and watch the sun go down in every state. Think Jason would let you take, like, three months off at once?"
I chuckle at the thought of asking for twelve weeks of paid leave. Something tells me there are a whole bunch of caveats with my vacation allowance. "I highly doubt it."
Kitty sighs and says, "Shame." As though her boss would be any more likely to allow it.
"We don't have to take time off to travel, though," I say.
"There are only so many places we can squeeze into a weekend."
"No, I mean, I can work remotely. As long as I have an internet connection, I can work from anywhere in the world. So can you. Just because we don't doesn't mean we couldn't start," I say with a shrug. "Who's to say our home office needs to be in our home?"
"Oh my god. I married a genius."
"Um, excuse me, are you only just realizing that? A whole year into our marriage?"
"No but seriously, Fliss." Kitty pushes a wet hand into her dry hair, the warm light from the outdoor lamp glinting off her wedding ring. "Do you think we could do that?"
"Why not? Aside from the fact that Sally would murder me for abandoning her in the office." My mind starts to work in overdrive, scanning for logistical errors – time differences and patchy internet connections and the lack of will to work if I'm somewhere beautiful – but there's no barrier too big too overcome.
"Holy shit. We could do this."
"Life's short, right?" I parrot her words back to her. "We have the money and the freedom and if it doesn't work, it doesn't work. Our apartment isn't going anywhere. We just go home and figure out a new plan."
"This could actually happen, couldn't it?" Kitty says, her eyes wide. I nod and smile and her beam reaches the corners of her shining eyes.
"The world's our oyster."
"I don't eat shellfish," she says.
"The sky's the limit. The future's bright. Life is ours for the taking. Take your pick of kosher idioms," I say, closing the distance between us to kiss the tip of her nose. "We'll never know until we try."
"That pretty much sums up our relationship," she says with a laugh. "Imagine if we hadn't given this a go."
"I don't want to think about it." I pull her onto my lap, the water frothing around our bodies, and I look up at her. Her eyes look black in this light but I know every color off by heart. "You're my everything, Mrs Campbell-Cohen. I know it's not our anniversary for another couple of days, but this last year, you've shown me the kinds of peace and happiness I didn't know existed."
Kitty drapes her arms around my neck. Her thighs are wet and slippery against mine, her hips soft under my hands. "Every day I can't wait to fall asleep next to you and every night I can't wait to wake up by your side," she says, so close that her nose bumps mine, her face a blur in the dim light without my glasses. "I don't know enough words to tell you how much I love you."
"We don't need words," I say.
We are chest to chest, close enough to feel that my pulse matches hers, like our hearts have conspired to beat in time. I hold her against me under the starlit sky, thousands of miles from home, and I kiss her like I mean it.
*
I always struggle to end books. I can't believe Like a Best Friend is over! This was another whirlwind of a book: 105,000 words in 41 days after I started with a vague idea of "sapphic fake honeymoon, best friends have no idea they're in love" and now we're here. Thank you so much for reading this book. Your support means the world to me.
Keep your eyes peeled for my next book, Tis the Damn Season, a second chance romance inspired by the Taylor Swift song (naturally). I haven't finalised the posting date yet but it will be up no later than the 1st of December in order to be completed in time for Christmas!