Page 93 of When I Had You

“I’m going to miss you, Marina.”

I’ve been up since four o’clock and on the set since six. I’m too tired to fight any reactions he’s trying to create in me. “Please don’t do this. I’m really not in the mood for you today. Or ever after.”

Excitement on the TV pulls my attention back. The announcer says, “He’s the comeback kid for a reason. Qualifying into fourth puts him in reach of a podium position.”

“Yes,” I say, jumping up. And then I remember that we’re broken up, and the heartbreak sets in again.

Corbin stands and asks, “You’re really into this racing thing, huh?”

“No, not racing,” I say with such authority that I begin questioning why I haven’t been able to respond to any of Cash’s text messages.

There were only a handful, and they didn’t encompass his understanding of what he did or how he chose to handle the situation. He treated me as the enemy keeping him from his real true love—racing.

Corbin hangs around, though he embodies everything I don’t want in my partner. I won’t settle again.

I didn’t with Cash when I lowered my walls and let him in, but I lost the man I love in that wreck. Until he returns, I can’t go back. I’ll work on finding my own happiness instead.

“I broke it off with Sherry.”

“Who?”

“Sherry from wardrobe.”

I almost laugh. Not that they broke up even though that’s laughable. But that I had blocked her out of my head and had been working exclusively with Mindy, Sherry’s assistant.

When he stands there staring at me, I’m not sure what he expects me to say. “We’re not friends, Corbin.”

Acceptance drowns any hope building in his eyes. “Right . . .” He looks out through the door and then takes a few steps down, stopping on the bottom. “I screwed up. I’m sorry.”

His apology won’t heal deep gashes, but since they never caused the ones my heart’s dealing with, I say, “Thanks.” Closure isn’t something most get, so I appreciate the effort, even if it is months later.

When he turns back to me, he asks, “Do you want to grab lunch sometime?”

I chuckle this time at the irony of the situation. “No. Thank you, though.”

When he exits, I reach down to close the door. “Hey, Corbin?” He turns back but keeps walking backward as if he knows this is the last time I’ll see him off a red carpet. “Good luck.”

“You, too. And congrats on the play.”

“Thank you.” The article came out in Variety two days ago. I’ve heard from everyone I care about but one. We always agreed to only learn more from each other. Guess he’s holding strong unlike our relationship.

I didn’t realize how fragile we were when I was in it, but our relationship was a house of cards teetering on destruction all along. It only took the wind blowing our way to knock us down.

Closing the door, I stop to look around the trailer. Corbin’s right about endings. Doesn’t matter what good things are ahead. There’s a sadness when leaving a part of life to become a memory.

Sometimes we don’t get the endings we want. I was fortunate to whisper goodbye to Laura on my way to the door. I didn’t get the luxury with Cash. I didn’t even get to say goodbye to Cullen or explain why I wouldn’t be around any longer since he was at his mother’s place. Maybe that’s easier for kids, or maybe Cash made something up to tell him. I find it sad either way.

I start packing my stuff, wishing Poppy was here to help with my melancholy. She’d make the task fun at least. But there was no point in her flying to Vancouver, not even to run lines with me. It’s an easy week of scenes, and she’s busy with a short-term job cooking for a family summering in the Hamptons. I’ll get to see her next week back in Beacon.

When my phone rings, I immediately check the caller ID. Lauren always has me debating about whether I want to answer. I do because I always do. “Hello?”

“How are you doing? I just heard the news.”

“Which news?” I ask, panic rising that I’ve missed something significant.

“The breakup news. Why didn’t you tell me? I had some plans in play.”

“Because I don’t want plans on how we’re going to serve my breakup to the public. I just want to suffer in silence and eat pints of mint chocolate chip ice cream like any other woman.”

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