Most Wonderful

Chapter 47

47.

Later that day, Birdie roamed the aisles of the supermarket in town, a sobriety podcast in her earbuds. Compared to the last time she was here—frantically shopping for the wine-soaked dinner with Jecka’s parents—the store was deserted. Even though it’d been only a week or so ago, that night felt much further away.

In the meat section, Birdie was reaching for the very last packet of bacon when someone’s hand brushed hers, going for the same thing.

Jecka Jacob. Her dark brown eyes widened in surprise. “Birdie!”

“Jecka.” Birdie stepped back, her heart tapping a nervous beat. She fumbled to pause her podcast. “I wasn’t stalking you.”

“Good to know.” Jecka’s smile flitted between forgiving and cautious. “Shopping for your favorite breakfast food?”

“As are you.” Birdie gallantly indicated for Jecka to take the package. “Please, m’lady. I insist.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Jecka picked up the bacon. Her gaze skimmed the contents of Birdie’s basket: mostly Mr. Paws’s too-expensive cat food. “You haven’t changed.”

“Actually, I have.” Birdie shifted her basket from one arm to the other. “I’m, um, six days sober.”

Jecka’s mouth fell all the way open. “ Really? ”

Birdie hadn’t ever seen anyone quite so surprised. She nodded, feeling an odd mix of pride and embarrassment.

“How do you feel?” Jecka asked.

Birdie wasn’t going to answer that in a grocery store. “Like I just lost my best and worst friend.”

“Are you going to go to, like, meetings, or…?”

“Maybe.” Birdie hadn’t gotten that far yet. One day at a time. “When I’m back in the city.”

Jecka nodded, her gaze supportive and serious.

Birdie was struck by the difference in their interaction. No flirting, no banter. Just honesty and a dash of care.

“Well, congratulations,” Jecka said. “That can’t be easy. Hope you stick with it.”

“Me too.”

They both let out a breath, which morphed into a chuckle. Birdie had come up to the Catskills to avoid run-ins with exes. But now that it was happening, it wasn’t that bad.

“It was nice seeing you.” Birdie meant it. “Happy New Year.” It was almost the last day of the year, after all. Birdie gave Jecka a farewell smile and turned for the registers.

“I’m doing a pop-up.” Jecka spoke in a rush. “Next month, in my home studio.” She smiled shyly, eyes bright. This was important to her. “Portraits. I’ve started doing portraits. Deconstructed: weird.”

Birdie connected the dots. “Personal and adventurous.”

“Exactly! No idea what I’m doing, but who does, right? Maybe, if you’re around, come check it out?”

The offering gave Birdie a familiar tingle. The old Birdie would say, Yeah, hell yeah, let’s throw in a sleepover to boot. But the new Birdie sensed she had work to do before becoming the person Jecka deserved. The person she was committed to being. It wasn’t something she could rush.

“Maybe,” Birdie said. “Or, do you still have those tickets I got us? To the Chelsea art expo in February?”

Jecka nodded. “Still on my fridge.”

“Check with me before you invite someone else? If you’d still feel like going together?”

“I will.” A smile settled on Jecka’s face. “I’d like that.”

—

In the parking lot, Birdie put her groceries in her station wagon’s back seat, making a mental note she needed to book an oil change.

The streets were quiet. No one at the crosswalks.

It’d been overcast on the drive in but now the sun was breaking through. Rays of light illuminated the road home.