Page 66 of One More Weekend

How could I let her leave like this? There must have been something I could have done.

Collapsing onto the couch, I tugged at my hair. There on the coffee table, my new lease sat and stared up at me. In black and white, my name was put next to Jenna’s. It had only taken management three years to agree to put my name on there.

Leave it to Jenna Chambers to make it happen.

Scoffing, I realized just how pissed management would be if they found out Jenna had left. One wrong day and they’d notice a new roommate in our two bedrooms.

I bite my lip.A little risky.

The apartment was so bare, so empty I could hardly picture a life here anymore.

There was one more thing I could have done.

I could have fought. For her. For us.

My chest rose and fell quickly as the idea came to my mind. Not willing to waste another second, I jolted up from the couch, threw on a pair of sneakers, and grabbed my keys and wallet before sprinting out the door.

I ran down the stairs, taking two at a time and nearly eating shit on each landing.

When I bodied the front door open, the sounds of New York flooding my ears, I searched for a taxi.

There was no time to call a car, she could already be past security at this point. All I could was hope traffic had held her up enough for me to catch up. She had twenty minutes on me.

I ran to the corner of Catherine and Henry, raising my arm to hail a yellow cab.

Within a few moments, like they had been sent by some higher force, a cab swerved through traffic and pulled up to the curb.

I threw open the door and slid into the seat. “JFK, Delta’s Terminal, as fast as you can.”

With the grizzled face of a true New Yorker, the driver turned around with a wrinkled forehead. “Are you kidding me?”

He probably assumed I was being dramatic, attempting to recreate some corny movie.

Fuck, maybe I was.

But I nodded. “I’m so fucking serious. Sir, the love of my life is about to get on a plane and leave this city forever. Please, step on it.”

45

JENNA

Even as Istood in the security line, I wasn’t sure how I’d managed to get out of the car. I’d been tempted to tell the driver to turn around, take me back home so I could find Sy upstairs and wrap her in a hug one more time.

But instead, I was in this unmoving line, backpack on top of my carry-on suitcase. I’d already checked my larger suitcase before hopping into the security line.

Every step of this process made leaving more tempting. I hadn’t even had my ID checked yet, still standing in the Terminal’s lobby And I had no idea what the hold-up was.

I shook my foot as I waited, unable to listen to music without knowing that whatever I put on would be forever tainted by this movement.

Taking in a deep breath, I inched forward a few feet. I poked my head out of the line to try and see why this was moving so slowly.

But all I could do was sigh. People just didn’t have their IDs ready by the time they got to the front of the line.

Knowing there wasn’t much to do, I just opened my phone and scrolled between the pages of apps I could click on.

Then my eye caught on a picture of Sy – one I’d taken when she was up on stage at Winnie’s sometime this summer. She was undeniably gorgeous, her smile making anyone with eyes swoon.

I bit my lip, desperate to get back to her.

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