“Yeah. I’m not promising perfection. I mean, you already know about the Murray imprint.”
“Perfection is overrated. All the nicks and smudges and Murray imprints tell a story.”
“Then there are lots of stories to tell on these walls. None of us knew what the hell we were doing, but it felt really good to do something concrete.”
“I get that.” Her voice had gone softer.
“Anyway, Murray was telling us about a new trick he’d mastered on his skateboard. He’s been skating since he could walk, by the way. His dad was a pro in the nineties.”
“That’s cool. Murray is Tony Hawk Junior. He seems like a good kid.”
I huffed a dry laugh. “Considering he’s only six months younger than me, maybe let’s not refer to him as a kid.”
A moan vibrated the phone. “I’m sorry. I don’t know when I turned into such an old lady, calling people kids. I should cut that out, as a general practice.”
“Probably.”
“Can we get back to the Murray imprint?”
“I mean, I think you can guess what happened. Yael implied she didn’t believe he did a...actually, I don’t know what the name of the trick was, but it was something that involved a flip. She gives him shit for the sake of it, and he either lets it slide off his back or eggs her on.”
“He egged her on today?”
“Yep. And it ended in him backflipping across the room so many times, he went splat into the wet wall.”
“You didn’t want to paint over it?”
I grinned, thinking of his stunned face and his paint-covered ass. “We were laughing too hard to even attempt it. And like you said, it gives the room character.”
Her giggle was clear this time. “I notice you didn’t send me a picture where that was visible.”
“No, but I will. I’m kinda hoping you’ll see it in person pretty soon.”
“Well, are you traveling soon?” she asked.
“Nope. I’m going to be in New York for the foreseeable future.”
“Me too. After this, I’m done traveling for a while.”
“So, there’s a chance we might be spending some time together?” My hopeless ass was hopeful.
“I do think there’s a chance.” Her yawn was audible. “I’m tired, but this...this was nice.”
“Yeah,” I breathed. “It was.”
“I’m going to be on the bus tomorrow night, but maybe I’ll call when we hit the road.”
“Anytime, Mic. I’ll be here.”
After we hung up, I laid in the middle of the nursery for a long time, thinking about my wife and our baby. The kind of life I wanted for us. Wondering how I’d gotten to this place at twenty-six, but also not minding being here. Not even a little. I would’ve given up a lot to have Michaela in front of me, but as I studied each of the four walls of my kid’s room, the Murray imprint, and the smudge Maeve had made on the baseboard when Santi kissed her, and the lines Yael and I had left when we were racing each other, I didn’t feel alone in all this. Nah, I wasn’t alone at all.