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“I did not say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Dani laughs while I consider throwing bread at both of them.

We move on eventually, and I’m grateful for it. Dani tells us about a promotion offer she’s considering. Paige has decided she wants to repaint her bedroom and makes us look at twelve nearly identical shades of green on her phone.

But Zander stays somewhere in the back of my mind for the rest of the night.

Later, stretched out on Paige’s couch under a blanket, I reach for my phone.

No messages.

There’s no reason there should be. Zander and I don’t text constantly. We don’t check in when one of us leaves town. I mentioned I’d be gone for the weekend when we crossed paths outside the duplex Friday morning, and he told me to try not to miss him too much.

I told him I thought I could manage.

Now I’m lying in the dark wondering what he’s doing.

Sunday morning, I wake before Paige.

I make coffee, leave her a note, and head toward Ocean Beach.

I used to come here whenever the city started feeling like it was too much.

Sometimes after a long week at the shop, I’d grab coffee and walk along the water until my head cleared. I liked the cold wind and the endless horizon, the way the waves were loud enough to drown out everything else for a while.

I park and walk toward the sand with my hands shoved into the pockets of my jacket.

Gray-blue water rolls toward the beach beneath a pale sky, white foam spreading across the sand as gulls circle overhead.

For a few minutes, it feels good to be back. Then a runner passes close enough that I have to step aside, a dog tears after a ball near the water, and a family starts spreading towels farther up the sand while two surfers walk past with boards tucked under their arms. A couple stops nearby to take pictures, and the little pocket of quiet I’d found is gone.

I keep walking.

I never thought of Ocean Beach as crowded before. Compared with most places in the city, it wasn’t. There was always room to walk, always some stretch of sand where I could look toward the water and pretend I was alone.

Now I can’t stop noticing everyone around me.

I’ve gotten used to Humboldt beaches where I can walk for long stretches without passing anyone. Cold mornings when the only footprints ahead of mine belong to birds. Fog rolling over the water without buildings or traffic sitting just behind me.

Nothing about Ocean Beach has changed.

I have.

I stop near the water and watch a wave break, the edge of it rushing up the sand before sliding back toward the Pacific. I still love this place. I can miss my friends, have favorite restaurants and streets, and carry a hundred good memories from living here without wanting to come back for good.

Redwood Point fits me differently. I like the slower mornings, having Black Fern and the redwoods nearby, beaches where I can find some quiet, and the fact that people are starting to recognize me when I stop for coffee or run into them at the store.

Somehow, even the loud musician living six inches of wall away from me has become part of it.

I smile before I can stop myself and wonder what Zander’s doing. Again.

The drive north gives me too much time to think.

I stop once for coffee and once for gas, then settle into the long stretch home with music playing low through the speakers.

By the time I’m back among the redwoods, my shoulders have relaxed.