Can I See You Again? (32 page)

“Sounds good. And Kit, for the record, it wasn't the Vine. It was Club 99. I rocked the hell out of that miniskirt.”

Interstate 10 is the direct route to Phoenix Sky Harbor, but since traffic is light and I've a few extra minutes, I find myself steering through the side streets of downtown. I turn onto Washington Avenue and pull up curbside at the almost completed City Core construction site. Chain link surrounds the seven-acre urban complex, which combines condos and commercial space built within two sharply angled towers. I don't know much about the project, other than I'm impressed by the architect's vision, for he or she must've known that at this time of early evening, the towers' glass captures the sun setting over Camelback Mountain and reflects on the city, dual sixty-story murals of the desert's incredible landscape.

I step from my car and wrap my arms around myself, grabbing hold of the fence, uncertain if I'm chilled from the hint of fall in the breeze or the memories from where I stand. The City Core is very different from the building that once stood here, the one my dad worked in when I was a kid. The one
with the corner deli where he let me order my own coffee. Side by side, we spent mornings sorting through photographs of him rafting, hang gliding, rappelling, choosing the best shots for his next freelance magazine article.

“Are these dreams from
your
Someday Jar?” I'd ask, holding a glossy photograph of some snow-covered mountain range, praying I didn't sound too eager. Too much like a child.

“Nah, I don't need a jar.” Dad nudged my elbow with his own. “You're my greatest adventure.”

My heart flickered. Actually tickled inside my chest when Dad said those words.
You're my greatest adventure.
I'd never felt more loved. Or more protected. The most important person in his world.

He moved out six weeks later.

I release my grasp on the fence as if it's buzzing me with voltage and chastise myself for letting a silly childhood token rattle my thoughts. Honestly, what has gotten into me?

As I drive toward the airport, my engagement ring catches the sun's light and I think about my life. In three months I'll be married to a beautiful man full of integrity and principle. A man who is kind to my mom, finishes my crossword puzzle, and still half stands when I join him for dinner or return from the restroom. Thanks to this man, I have a solid job with clients I adore. A stable future.

I nudge the jar deeper into the depths of my purse. I'd be a fool to uncork the pain and splintered promises of my past. Yes, my dad is the first man I ever loved. But he's also the first man who broke my heart.

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