Page 104 of The Accidental Honeymoon

"Because it makes a cute story." Cora shrugs. "The truth is messier. They weren't instantly compatible. They had to work at it. It was all adorably 90s."

I sit there, stunned. My parents' neat little love story was the template I’d built my whole idea of romance on. If that was a fabrication, what else have I been wrong about?

"So you're saying I should just… what? Work at it with Jay? Make up a cute story and hope it turns real?"

Cora stands. "I'm saying that compatibility is a lot more flexible than you think. Sometimes the messier truth is better than a tidy lie. Maybe if you talk to him, you guys will break up. But maybe?" Her eyes soften. "Maybe you’ll stay together. I can’t predict the future or I would be in a very differentjob.”

I sit quietly for the better part of a minute. Does this change anything? Does it give me enough courage to stay an extra day?

Cora reaches out. “You don't have to go, Calla. We can figure something out."

“You gave me a lot to think about.” I bite my lip. The taste of pastry is long gone. Soon, I will be, too. "I think I need some alone time to figure things out. At the moment, my plan still involves leaving for New Orleans."

Cora lingers for a moment. She nods and leaves me to my chaos. I pick up the hairbrush from the floor, and stare at it, willing it to give me some kind of epiphany. Nothing.

I’m about to toss it back into the suitcase when Cora pokes her head around the corner. "I love you. Whatever you decide, just make sure it’s actually a decision. Not an excuse."

“Love you too.” I give her a crestfallen smile.

With that, she’s gone. I’m left with the silence of my own thoughts. I brush my hair, slow and methodical. I imagine what it will be like in New Orleans.

The humidity frizzing my hair. The beignets expanding my waistline. The sound of jazz seeping through the walls of my tiny, temporary apartment.

I picture Jay. His easy smile and ridiculous dimples. The way he’d looked so earnest when he proposed our fake marriage. Could it ever be more than an arrangement? Could it be the romantic marriage that I’d always dreamed of?

I don’t have the answers. I know I can’t stay here, paralyzed by indecision. I stand. I zip up my suitcase. I wipe the streaked mascara from my cheeks.

I’m only planning to leave for a month. All this emotional baggage will still be here when I get back. I haulmy suitcase to the door. I take one last look at my room, now stripped of its former chaos. Everything is in its place. Except for me.

With a deep breath, I step into the hallway and close the door behind me.

thirty-eight

JAY

I gotone mysterious text message twenty minutes ago.

Calla will be on Delta flight 2224 to New Orleans tonight at 6:15.

I tried to text the number back a dozen times, to no avail. But its message zings through my blood.

One last chance. All I have to lose is my cab fare… and my heart.

Am I an idiot for buying the first ticket going anywhere just to get through security?

That remains to be seen.

Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport isn’t just a place where planes take off and land.It’s the busiest airport in the world. It’s a labyrinthine city unto itself. And it is always complete chaos.

My nerves have me unsure which is up and which is down as I exit the cab. With no other plan besides hurrying, I run toward the doors, hurdle a luggage trolly, sidestep a toddler wielding a juice box like a weapon, and almost trip over a wayward duffel bag.

But I keep going, because I’m a man on amission. Every fiber of my being screams with the urgency to reach Calla before it’s too late.

“Excuse me! Sorry!” I call out. The knot in my stomach tightens with every step.

I’ve never been one to second-guess myself. This is different. This is crazy even for me. Yet the thought of her leaving and not having the chance to explain my side and plead my pathetic case propels me forward.

Do both airport employees and airline customers alike think I’m insane as I run past them like I’m being chased by vicious honey badgers? Certainly. But I don’t care.

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