Page 103 of F*ck Marriage

Chapter Forty

The cab takes me home where I drop off my bag and grab my coat. I walk the twenty blocks to his building even though it’s snowing, and even though I’m still in my wedding dress. I need some time to formulate words … words to express how sorry I am. My hands are numb and my lungs ache from the cold air, but I feel alive, and that’s what counts. If he’s not there I don’t know what I’ll do. Huge mounds of dirty snow are banked against curbs. I walk up the path to his building, and the doorman greets me with a smile.

“He in?” I ask.

“No. He left for the airport.” He eyes my dress, which can’t be hidden even behind a heavy winter coat.

“The airport? Where’s he going?”

“Didn’t say.”

“When did he leave?”

“Early this morning. He asked me to get him a cab.”

“Shit,” I say. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

I pull out my phone to call him, but it goes straight to voicemail. He’s probably already in the air.

“Try his mom.”

I’m still studying my phone trying to decide my next plan of action so I’m not sure if I’ve heard him right.

“What?”

“His mom. Moms always know where their kids are. Even if their kids are forty. Mine is a huge pain in the ass. She makes me text her every night when I get home so she knows I’m safe.”

“Oh my God, are you forty? You look like you’re twenty.”

“I am.” He grins. “But my older sister is thirty-seven and my mom makes her call too.”

I laugh and then say, “I—I don’t really know her that well. It would be weird to call her.”

He shrugs. “If you want to know where he is that’s the way to go…”

I thank him and move away from the door. I bite my lip, staring down at the ground. The bottom of my dress is grey, the dirt ground into the silk like a tattoo. I suppose now is the time to stop being such a coward. I almost remarried my ex-husband because I was too much of a coward to move on with my life. I take a deep breath and hit dial.

Jennifer Gable answers on the first ring, and her tone is cheerful but businesslike.

“Gable residence.”

There’s a long pause after I say my name.

“How can I help you, Billie?” she asks.

“I—I was supposed to get married today,” I tell her.

To which she responds, “I know.”

“Well, I didn’t. And I’m in love with your son. And he left for the airport this morning. And I was hoping you’d tell me where he went.”

There’s another long pause and then she sighs.

“He’s hurting a whole lot, Billie. As his mother, I want to tell you to stay away from him…”

I hang my head in shame.

“I understand,” I say. And then I add, “I also don’t blame you.”

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