Page 62 of In Flight

And Isaac’s job is in Boston. He’s on his way up the corporate ladder, and moving to Savannah would take a machete to his entire career.

But I don’t want to move either. I would have to give up everything I’ve built for myself. And what would happen to me if and when Isaac decides he’s had enough? That his little fling with a quirky, emotionally complicated woman has reached its expiration date and he wants to get back to a woman like Sophie, who better suits the social ambitions he’s always had?

It’s such a risk. Too much of a risk. I can’t leave my entire world for a relationship that’s never gone beyond the casual stage.

Isaac might have somehow become the most important thing in my life, but I’ve let my heart run me off cliffs before.

I’m not a silly girl anymore.

I have to make a good decision.

My life might not look particularly impressive to the rest of the world, but it’s mine. I love it. I like my job, and I love my apartment and my friends and the artistic circles I move in and the familiar city squares. And I’m not going to throw all of it out the window, chasing after a man who might act as though he likes me but has never admitted to having deep feelings for me.

I’m not going to do it.

All my stuff is still at my parents’ house, so I need to go back there before our flight. When Isaac offers to drive me over and then wait so we can go to the airport together, I object since it’s such a waste of his time.

He seems offended by my hesitance, so I relent, but the generous gesture makes me more confused than ever. Flustered and squirmy and frazzled. I hate feeling this way, but I don’t know how to stop it.

I’ll never be one of those cool, collected people like Isaac who can control their emotions and parcel them out carefully into tidy compartments in their mind. If I feel something, it will always eventually spill out.

It does today as I quickly pack up my stuff at my parents’, say a few words to my mom (as is her habit, she acts as if nothing happened between us at all), and give my dad a quick hug.

Isaac then drives us to the airport. It’s only when he parks in the short-term lot that I realize the obvious problem. “Oh no. You can’t leave your car here for the week!”

“I’m not. My friends said they’d come by later this evening and pick up my car. I gave them my spare key. They’ve done it a few times before.”

“Oh. Okay. Good.” I shake my head. “I shouldn’t have let you drive me. It’s going to be a hassle for both you and your friends.”

“It’s not a hassle.”

“It is. I should have thought about it. I’m really a jumbled mess today.” I rub my face, trying to clear my mind and push back the heaviness that won’t go away.

Isaac has turned off the ignition. He gives me a sidelong look. “Anything you want to talk about?”

I shake my head. I can’t have this conversation right now. Last night’s breakdown will be nothing compared to what will happen to me if the talk goes the way I suspect it will go.

“All right. Then let’s go take our flight.”

***

THE PLANE IS ONLY HALFWAYfull, and the air is clear and smooth. The flight attendant chats with us like we’re best friends, and there’s not a single spot of turbulence from Boston to Savannah.

The flight couldn’t have been more perfect, but I feel kind of sick the whole time.

So does Isaac. At least I think he does. He’s silent and broody in a way he almost never is. He keeps shooting me questioning looks, and they make me feel guilty because they’re worried and searching.

He’s been nothing but good to me, and I’m painfully guilty on top of everything else. Because he doesn’t want this to end—not yet anyway—but that’s exactly what’s going to happen.

After we land and wait for the other passengers to deboard, we end up near the gate in the airport. Isaac is carrying my shoulder bag as well as his messenger bag in addition to rolling his suitcase.

He stops walking and turns to look at me. “Can you please just get whatever it is said?”

I make a squeaking sound. “I’m sorry!”

“Why are you sorry? Because you haven’t said it yet or because of what you need to say to me?”

“I don’t even know. I just feel terrible. And I feel like...” My voice gets trapped in my throat. I have to clear it before I continue. “I feel like we’re reaching an ending here. I’m not going to be flying to Boston anymore. The wedding is over.”

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