25
Ididn’t sleep lastnight.
Tossed and turned?Sure.
Drove myself crazy playing out all the ways this could go wrong?Absolutely.
But have I come to a decision?Nope.
So I pace. I glance at the red block numbers on the clock that tell me Elijah’s plane takes off in three hours, and I pace some more. I start a text to Elijah. Then I deleteit.
IfI went, even just for a week, I’d have to cancel my clients and pack. It’s irresponsible.Beyondirresponsible. And something I shouldn’t evenconsider.
I pad down the hall to my kitchen, open the fridge, grab the boxed wine, and slam it onto my counter. “Who does he think he is anyway?” I grumble. “Go to London with me, Demi…” I mimic his deep voice. “Let’s see where this goes.” Rolling my eyes on a groan, I grab my Coffee Makes Me Poopmug.
It’s seven in the morning, and for whatever reason, I feel drinking wine out of a coffee cup about defecation makes this seem less tragic. I flip the tab and fill the brown cup to the brim.I’m not going withhim.
I tuck the box of wine under my arm and trudge back to my bedroom. By the time I finish my first drink, I’m standing at the foot of my bed staring into an emptysuitcase.
Just go to London. I’ll cancel my week—say it’s an emergency or something vague, haul off to England. People do stuff like this all the time, I’msure.
Nodding, I open my top drawer, gathering my underwear and bras and tossing them into the suitcase. Next, I throw in a few shirts, somejeans—
I chew on my lip, then hold my hands in the air. “What in the hell am I doing?” Groaning, I grab the suitcase, dump the contents out, then drop it to thefloor.
I drag my hands through my hair while thinking about Elijah boarding the plane and waiting for me. The thought of him taking off with an empty seat beside him nearly killsme.
“To hell with it!” Someone will end up breaking my heart eventually. It may as well behim.
I grab my suitcase again and quickly fill it with shirts and jeans and underwear. I take a swig of wine on my way to the kitchen for a Ziploc bag. When I glance at the clock, a sense of urgency sweeps through me. I only have two hours and thirtyminutes.
I dart to the bathroom and haphazardly rake my toiletries into the plasticbag.
Five minutes later I’m lugging my suitcase to the front of myapartment.
I’m barely through the door before panic tears through me like an electric shock. I chuck the luggage across the hall. It hits the wall with a bang. The locks pop open, and my clothes scatter to the ground. Leaning against the wall, I cover my face with my hands. Admittedly, I’m losing my mindhere.
The fast-paced click of tiny feet with claws scamper down the hallway followed by a petite bark. I drop my hands from my face. Dot’s scraggly chihuahua, Bob, is standing in front of me, his little body shaking. He cocks his head to the side like he’s trying to figure out what my problem is, then he throws his head back on a high-pitchedhowl.
“Bob,” Dot’s gruff voice bellows down the hall. “Come back here,Bob!”
Seconds later, Dot steps around the corner, smoke billowing up from the end of the cigarette gripped between her thin, red lips. She glances from me to the open suitcase with a curious lift to her brow. “Are you alright,honey?”
“I’m fine, I just…” I bend over and collect my clothes, dropping them back into thesuitcase.
“Is this about that man?” Dot steps behind me. Cigarette smoke swirls around me as she places a weathered hand on my shoulder. “It’s none of my business,” she says. “But I couldn’t help but notice how upset he looked when he left lastnight.”
“You sawhim?”
“I was on my elliptical when he came up all flustered and walking with determined strides. And I saw him when he left, head hung and hands sweeping through hishair.”
I sigh. “It’s amess.”
“You know, the best kind of loves usually are.” She takes a hardy drag and turns her head away from me to blow out the smoke. “Barret, my late husband—most irrational decision I ever made. Married him after two weeks.” A nostalgic smile warms herface.
“Twoweeks?”
“Yep. I was eighteen. Met him at a sock hop two weeks before he shipped out to Parris Island. When it came time to leave, we ran to the courthouse and got married. Everyone thought we were loonies, told me we’d end up divorced. We were married fifty years. Oh, it was a wild ride, but I wouldn’t have changed any of it for theworld.”
