“Something wrong?”
“No, but um…” I pause. “I’ve gotten back with Ryder. He told me everything and I think I can handle it.”
“What?”
“Yeah, he flew to see me last night and I’m flying back to Seattle with him in a few hours.”
“With him?” she asks. “Like, you’re with him now?”
“I will be soon… I’m not supposed to tell anyone anything.”
“No, no. Wait. Where are you? Are you at home?”
“I’ll let you know if I need anything,” I say. “I understand you probably won’t want to hear from me, so?—”
“No, just—” she interrupts. “Just stay where you are. I’m coming, please, please.”
“Okay, fine…” I hang up and signal to a barista for another cup of coffee.
Then I wait…
An hour later,Kylie steps inside the café, her hair tossed all over her head. She scans the room, spots me in the corner, and walks over.
Two men enter after her, looking around before taking their seats in the far corner.
One of Ryder’s associates looks up at me from his magazine across the room, sending me abe calmlook with his eyes.
“So, tell me,” she says, shrugging off her coat. “What exactly happened to make you just reverse on getting back with him?”
“I love him.”
“You barely know him, Autumn.”
“Do you know him?”
“Of course not.” She waves a hand. “I don’t know anything, really.”
“You knew exactly where I was today,” I say. “You didn’t even ask me which coffee shop or café… You just knew.”
“Autumn—”
“How is that possible, Kylie?” I ask. “Out of the sixty or so cafés that are between here and the airport, you knew I was at this one.”
“Lucky guess.” Her voice wavers. “I assumed to check the one that served waffles since you love those.”
“This place doesn’t serve waffles.” I glance toward the menu board above the counter. “It’s just coffee and tea. No snacks at all.”
“That’s not important.” She shakes her head. “What’s important is that I’ve found you, and you said that he’s going to be here soon? Taking you with him?”
I say nothing.
“You also said he told you everything he does?” She’s unraveling in real time. “Do you want to tell me any of that? Just so I can, uh—run it through the database and maybe see if it’ll lead to other warnings? Maybe I can try to convince you a different way?”
“I heard there are new charges pending that are going to stick,” she says. “That the moment they find him this time, he’ll really stay behind bars for good…”
As she sits there rambling questions that I won’t answer, I take a long look at her—trying to memorize her features—taking in who she is one final time.
The helpful Kylie from years ago—the one person who actually opposed my foolish decision to get married at eighteen—is no longer here, and the love I had for her is dissipating by the second.
