Page 77 of Come Fly with Me

But I know I’m not staying here.

I walk for what feels like miles, consumed by my thoughts and hating myself for allowing something like this to happen again, but knowing I need to get home. I suck it up and call Carrie to pick me up, even though I know she’s going to ask what happened.

Twenty-Six

Jake

I have no idea where she’s gone. By the time I get to the end of my driveway, Taylor has disappeared into thin air.

“Fuck,” I scream, shoving a hand through my hair, as I turn around and head back toward my house, ready to grab my car and go look for her. Maggie is waiting outside, arms crossed over her chest as I stalk back.

“Who was that?” she asks.

I ignore her question, instead throwing one back at her. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Maggie uncrosses her arms, shrugging her shoulders at me as she says, “Like I said, I am your wife, remember?”

I roll my eyes, stomping up the steps and brushing past her and into my house. “Only because you won’t sign the fucking papers,” I shout back as I head into the bedroom.

“Yet you keep sending them,” she shouts after me, following me inside.

I ignore her as I grab some clothes and shove them into a bag, my other stuff all still over at Taylor’s place. I reach into the wardrobe and grab a clean uniform and am about to get changed when I realize she’s now standing in the doorway watching me.

“Well, do me a favor then and fucking sign them already,” I say, grabbing the envelope off the side table and throwing it on the bed. “Then we can end this mess of a marriage once and for all.”

I walk into the bathroom without waiting for a reply and slam the door behind me, locking it because I wouldn’t put it past her to follow me in here. I hurry and get changed, knowing I still have time, although not much, to head back over to Taylor’s before I have to be at the airport.

I need to find her because she and I really need to talk, but this is not a conversation I want to have at the airport or in the cockpit. It’s one we should’ve had long ago, back when we first got together, before that even. At the very least, it’s a conversation we should have had before she had to find out by coming face to face with my so-called wife.

But it’s too late for that now and the only thing I can do is try and fix things before I lose her, before Taylor walks away for good.

When I open the bathroom door, I see Maggie has disappeared from my bedroom along with the divorce papers I’ve been trying to get her to sign for the past year. I grab my bag, pulling the zipper closed before walking back into the living area.

“You really want this to be over?” she says, looking up at me from where she’s laid the papers out over the kitchen bench.

I let out a long exhale. “Why do you think I’ve been sending you the papers for the past year, Maggie? Jesus.”

She shakes her head. “Can we please just have a civilized conversation about this, Jake, for once?”

I glance at my watch. “I don’t exactly have time for that right now,” I tell her, desperate to get back to Taylor and fix things. “Pretty sure there’s nothing more to talk about either,” I add, knowing the arguments we used to have pretty much covered everything anyway.

“I’ll sign the papers,” she suddenly says, surprising me.

“You will?”

Maggie nods. “Yes.”

“Why?” I ask, shocked. I’ve been trying to make this happen for so long now. “I mean why now? Why all of a sudden?” I run a hand through my hair, confused. I don’t want to fuck this up and change her mind, but I want to know why too. Why she’s been fucking with me for over a year? “Why wouldn’t you just sign them before? Shit, Maggie, a year?! A year you’ve been fucking me around with this.”

She lets out a long exhale, nodding as she pulls out a stool and takes a seat at the bench as though she’s settling in for the long haul. “I know,” she says.

I glance at my watch again, wishing I could hurry this up but knowing I can’t push it, not when she’s finally agreeing to the divorce. “So, why now?”

“I’ve met someone,” she says, shrugging as though it’s somehow obvious. “And I realize it’s time.”

“You realize it’s time?” I repeat, annoyed at the timing, annoyed that it’s ever had to come to this. Annoyed that I ever married her in the first place.

She looks up at me, her gaze meeting mine. “I didn’t want to fail,” she says, hands out, palms up as if to say, what did you expect. “I didn’t want to fail at yet another thing, not after everything. And I really thought our marriage could work.”

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