Page 42 of Passions & Peonies

I wipe the tears from my eyes with the back of my hand and push the hair away from my face. Sky won’t believe that I’m okay. I don’t know if I could fake it either. And I can’t, because I break down when I see her.

“Holy shit,” she says, hugging me tight. “I’m not going to ask you how it was because it’s obvious.”

“I just need to leave… now. I can’t say goodbye,” I hiccup.

“You didn’t say goodbye?” Her voice rises, and the man behind the counter looks at us.

“Don’t question me now. When does the bus leave?” I glance over my shoulder in the direction of the marina.

“In a few minutes. It’s waiting outside.”

“Let’s go.” I grab my suitcase and backpack and speed-walk to the bus.

My stomach turns from anxiety, thinking he’ll show up any second. I know he’ll be pissed off. I would be too. But I’m doing this for both of us. A clean break.

The bus pulls out, and Sky touches my arm. “Want to talk about it?”

Tears roll down my cheeks worse than before. This is it. It’s final. I’ll never see him again. I rest my head on her shoulder and tell her everything that happened last night. Well, not everything. She doesn’t interrupt; she just listens. That’s what I need right now, to release everything I’m thinking.

Once I’m silent for a few minutes, she says, “Do you regret meeting him?”

“No! Not at all! But it’s not fair, Sky. This heartbreak… it hurts more than anything I’ve ever experienced.”

“I still don’t understand why you’re so against seeing him when he’s back in the Hamptons.”

“I told you why. Six months out of the year won’t work. What if things change in between now and then, then what? No, I just have to convince myself to look back at this week with a smile and think,wow!I’ll let myself grieve until I walk out of JFK airport. Then it’s business as usual.”

Sky’s face drips with pity. Her lips part as if she’s going to say something, but then she doesn’t. I’m not sure I want to know what she was going to say; she might make me realize what an asshole I’m being. I know I am, but I have to ignore that right now or I won’t survive.

We find our gate, then I go off to the bathroom to change into my New York clothes. I don’t go back to where Sky is when I’m done. Instead, I hide myself in a corner and take out my phone. I open WhatsApp and start a new message. For a minute, the blank space intimidates me, and then my fingers start typing away. I reread what I wrote a million times before I attach some pictures. My finger hovers over the send button.

“There you are,” Sky exclaims, a few feet away from me.

Shit!I drop my phone on the ground, then quickly pick it up and stuff it into my bag. “I was just responding to some messages that I’ve been ignoring all week.”

Has lying become my new hobby?

“They just announced that we’re boarding soon. You were taking so long, I thought you might’ve gotten back on a bus to the hotel.”

I have no energy to respond. My muscles are beginning to scream from last night. It’s a sweet ache I won’t forget.

“Let’s go.”

I collapse into the window seat, hug my backpack, and stare out the window. A part of me was hoping Will might show up at the airport. But why would he? We aren’t in a Hollywood movie. I left him without saying goodbye. And what would it solve if he did? We just aren’t meant to be. This was only supposed to be a hot vacation romance.

Why can’t I turn around and look at the seat next to me and find Will sitting there again?

“Lace?” Definitely not Will’s voice. “Can you send me that one picture of when I jumped off the boat on the day cruise? The one where I was midair. I’ve asked you a thousand times, but you keep forgetting. Or give me your phone, and I’ll look for it.”

I open my backpack and pull out my phone. “Scheisse!” I squeeze my eyes shut and bang the back of my head against the seat. “The screen shattered when I dropped it right before we got on the plane. I can’t access anything.” I want to cry all over again. I’ve dropped this phone a zillion times and it has never broken. But this time it did. Now I can’t send Will that text message until I get a new phone.

“Shit, Sky! What if I’ve lost all of my pictures from vacation or all the ones of me and Will? I don’t even have his phone number without it!” But why should I care if I’ve lost his contact info? My chest feels like there’s a massive weight on it.

“Don’t freak out. It’s most likely only the screen. And you can transfer everything to a new phone.”

“Great.” I roll my eyes. “You know me. I’m technologically challenged.”

“It’s not difficult. If the people at the store you buy your new phone from can’t help you, just call me. I’ll walk you through it. And you never know, I might be crashing at your place next weekend.”

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