Page 248 of My Rules

I lie in the dark and glance at the clock: 2:00 a.m. I roll over and punch my pillow.

He’s not coming.

I don’t know what I was thinking. Of course he’s not fucking coming.

He was right. Did I actually think I could show up and he would run into my arms with a declaration of love?

Oh god, I’m so cringey.

Why would I give him my hotel room number? What do I think this is, a James Bond movie or something?

Get it together, Rebecca.

If you want Blake back, you need to work smarter, not harder.

And I do ... god, I do.

I’ve worked so hard to get to where I am now.

I’m ready for love ... but I only want it with Blake. He’s the only one that matters.

I toss and turn and punch the pillow again.

I sit in the coffee shop and stare out onto the busy street. New York has an energy like no other place on earth. The smells, the sights, the sounds of the sirens in the distance. And where is everybody rushing to all the time?

Is everyone really this late?

I sip my coffee as I sit in the window that faces onto the street, and although things didn’t turn out how I wanted them to this weekend, I do have a sense of achievement.

I got to tell Blake that I divorced John. I got to tell him that I’m selling my house. He didn’t hear it secondhand from anybody; it came from my lips, and you have no idea how hard it was to keep that secret from the girls. The problem is, when your friends are married to their friends, things get out.

I glance at my watch. It’s 5:00 p.m., and my flight is at 8:00.

My bags are with the concierge at the hotel, and I’ve been lingering around all day waiting for my flight tonight.

I specifically took the late flight in case things went well, and ... let’s just say I was hoping to spend the day with Blake.

I wasn’t that lucky.

I finish the last of my coffee and make my way back to the hotel.

“Hello, I would like to check out and collect my bags, please,” I tell the girl at reception.

“Of course, what was the name?”

“Rebecca Dalton.”

She types into her computer. “Here it is.”

I slide the key across the counter to her.

“Thank you,” she replies as she takes it. “Do you have the second key?”

“No, there was only one key.”

She frowns as she reads something. “It says here that your husband picked up another key at three this morning?”

What?

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