"And what about you? " he asked. "You mentioned graphic design earlier. " Savannah nodded. Freelance. I work from home, which has been good since the amputation. She said the word matterofactly without flinching.
I had to completely relearn my workflow. I used to pace around my apartment while brainstorming sketch standing up at an easel. Now I do most of my work sitting using a tablet. It took months to adapt, but I got there. That is incredibly resilient, Derek said.
Savannah shrugged. I did not have much choice. It was adapt or give up, and I had already lost everything else. I was not going to lose my career, too. They discovered more connections as the afternoon wore on.
Both loved hiking, though Savannah had not been on a trail since the accident. Both preferred indie films to blockbusters. Both thought the smell of Portland after rain was the best smell in the world. Both loved bookstores with creaky floors and coffee shops with mismatched furniture. When evening came and they finally parted ways in the parking lot, they exchanged phone numbers.
"Thank you for today," Savannah said, her eyes still a bit puffy, but genuinely happy for the first time. "You and Lily, you turned what I thought would be the loneliest, most painful birthday of my life into something beautiful. I will never forget this. Same place next Saturday, Derek asked, surprising himself with how much he hoped she would say yes. Savannah's face lit up.
I would absolutely love that. The texts started that night. Derek was sitting on his couch after putting Lily to bed, half watching a documentary he had seen before, when his phone buzzed. Savannah wrote, "Thank you again for today. I cannot stop thinking about how kind you both were to a complete stranger.
Derek smiled and typed back. Derek wrote, "You are not a stranger anymore. You are our friend. And friends do not thank friends for birthday cake. It is in the friendship handbook, page 47. " Savannah wrote, "I will have to read that handbook more carefully. " Derek wrote, "It is a thrilling read.
Right up there with assembly instructions and tax forms. Savannah wrote, "Ha, now I definitely have to find a copy. " They texted back and forth for another hour. Nothing profound, just the comfortable getting to know you conversation of two people who had somehow skipped past the awkward stages and landed directly in friendship. Derek learned that Savannah's favorite color was green. That she hated mushrooms but loved truffle oil, which she admitted made no sense.
That she had once wanted to be a marine biologist but discovered she got seasick on boats. That she still sometimes talked to Kennedy before she fell asleep telling her about her day. Savannah learned that Derek's guilty pleasure was reality cooking shows. That he had never traveled outside the United States, but dreamed of seeing Italy someday. That he secretly kept every drawing Lily made for him in a box under his bed.
That he still had dreams about his ex-wife sometimes, but they were always friendly, like she was just visiting his subconscious for coffee. When Derek finally looked at the clock, it was past midnight. Derek wrote, "I should probably sleep. Work tomorrow. " Savannah wrote, "Me, too. Thank you again, Derek, for everything. " Derek wrote, "See you Saturday. " Savannah wrote, "I will be there. " That night, Savannah fell asleep without crying for the first time in months.
The following Saturday, she arrived at the corner bean wearing a nervous smile. But the moment Lily saw her through the window, she squealled with delight and ran to the door to meet her. "Miss Savannah, Miss Savannah, I made you something. " She thrust a piece of paper into Savannah's hands. It was a drawing done in crayon of three stick figures sitting at a table. One had yellow hair, one had brown hair, one was small with pigtails.
Above them, in careful, wobbly letters, Lily had written our table. Savannah's eyes filled with tears, the good kind. And just like that, it felt like she had always been part of their Saturday tradition. The weeks turned into months, and Savannah became woven into the fabric of Derek and Lily's life so naturally that later neither of them could quite remember what Saturdays had been like before her. One month in, they started expanding beyond the corner bean.
Trips to Powell's city of books where they would get lost in different sections and text each other ridiculous book titles. They found one Derek would type how to goodbye depression if you constrict anus 100 times every day. That cannot be real. Savannah would text back, I am literally holding it right now. Section F, third shelf from the bottom.
She would find him minutes later, and they would stand in the aisle laughing until other customers gave them dirty looks. Lily would run from section to section, pulling books off shelves with wild abandoned building towers of picture books and begging Derek to read just one, just the first page, please, Daddy. It has a talking dog. Movie nights at Derek's apartment became routine, too. After Lily went to bed, Derek and Savannah would argue good-naturedly about plot holes and character motivations.
There is no way he survived that fall, Savannah would insist. It is a comic book movie. People survive things. It was a 40story building with convenient awnings. They would debate until one of them started laughing and then the other would join in and the movie would play forgotten in the background while they talked about everything and nothing.
Two months in Savannah started attending Lily's school events. She stood next to Derek at the first grade art show, taking photos like a proud aunt, exclaiming over Lily's fingerpainted masterpiece of what was allegedly a rainbow, but looked more like a cheerful explosion. It is beautiful, Savannah said seriously, crouching down to Lily's level. Tell me about it. Lily launched into a detailed explanation of her artistic vision, and Derek watched Savannah listen with genuine attention, asking follow-up questions, treating his six-year-old's creative process with the same respect she would give a professional artist.
His heart did something complicated in his chest. 3 months since Savannah started teaching Lily to draw. They would sit at Derek's kitchen table with colored pencils spread everywhere. Savannah guiding Lily's small hand to make cartoon characters and animals. The secret to drawing eyes.
Savannah explained patiently is that they are not really circles. They are more like almonds. See, Lily would try her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth in concentration like that. Perfect. You are a natural.
Derek would watch from the kitchen, pretending to do dishes, but really just soaking in the scene. The two blonde heads bent together over the paper. The soft murmur of Savannah's instructions. Lily's giggles when she made a mistake. Savannah's encouragement that made even the mistakes feel like successes.
Late at night, after Lily was asleep and Savannah had gone home, Derek would lie in bed staring at the ceiling. He noticed things now. The way Savannah's nose crinkled when she laughed. The way her eyes lit up when she talked about design, about color theory, about the projects she was working on. The way her hand felt when it accidentally brushed his, reaching for the same coffee cup.
One afternoon in early June, they were sitting in a different coffee shop, not the corner bean, somewhere new, when Derek had his moment of clarity. Savannah was laughing at something ridiculous that had happened at her graphic design client meeting. Her head thrown back the afternoon light, catching her blonde hair just right, her whole face transformed by joy. And Derek's heart did more than flip. It stopped.
He was falling in love with her. Maybe had been for a while. Maybe since that first Saturday when she had asked to share their table, and he had seen past the red dress and the crutches to the broken, beautiful person underneath, but he did not say anything. Savannah had been through so much trauma. She was 10 years younger than him.
He had a daughter to think about. What if he misread the signals and scared her away? What if pursuing something romantic ruined the friendship they had built? What if he lost her entirely? So Derek kept quiet, treasured what they had, and silently wished for more.
3 months after their first meeting, Savannah made an announcement that changed everything. I am moving to Portland. They were sitting on Derek's couch after Lily had gone to bed, half watching a documentary neither of them was really paying attention to. The TV flickered with images of ocean life, but Derek barely registered them. He was too focused on the woman beside him, on the nervous energy radiating from her.
"Really? " His heart was racing, but he tried to keep his voice casual. "My aunt is supportive," Savannah explained. "She knows I need to rebuild my life, and living away from the one place that actually feels like home does not make sense. " She turned to look at him and something in her expression made Derek's breath catch. I have been looking at apartments in the neighborhood. There is a studio available three blocks from here.
Three blocks from the corner bean. Three blocks walking distance. No more hour-long drives from Vancouver. No more planning visits around traffic and weather. She would just be here.
Part of their everyday life. That is amazing, Derek said. And this time he could not quite keep the emotion out of his voice. I can help you move. You do not have to.