Page 133 of Doughn't Let Me Go

Loved.

I was on top of the world, too, so comfortable I let my guard down while he dangled a carefree life in front of my face like it was nothing.

Then, he decided he was moving back to California, not even bothering to tell me about it. Hestillhasn’t told me about it, and every day it eats at me more and more.

He wants to talk about people always leavinghim, but what does he call what he’s doing to me? A graceful exit?

Because it sure as hell doesn’t feel like one.

“Hello?”

I jump at the sudden intrusion, so lost in thought I didn’t even hear anyone approach. Looking up from the cookies I’m baking for Kyrie—the ones she’s supposed to be helping me with—I find a woman standing in the doorway. She has a rolling suitcase behind her that tells me she’s traveling, but she’s dressed like she just stepped off a runway, not an airplane.

“Oh shit.” She tucks her long blonde hair behind her ear. “I amsosorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I thought you might have heard the front door open.”

Her cussing surprises me, but I don’t let it show. “I didn’t. Can I help you?”

She rolls her eyes. “I blame the jet lag for me being such an idiot. It’s not like he’d have pictures of me hanging around.” She crosses the kitchen, sticking her hand out my way. “I’m Mel, Porter’s assistant in California.”

Mel. She’s here. Not in California.

Fuck. This is it.

“Oh,” I say, shaking her hand. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m—”

“Doris Palmer. Yes, I know.” She smiles warmly, dropping my hand. “Not only because I read your resume and was very impressed with the passionate letter you wrote, but because I’m also the one who filed all your new hire paperwork. Plus”—she leans in close—“Kyrie never shuts up about you. I’m almost jealous.” She winks.

My chest constricts.

God, it’s going to be so hard when they leave.

I’ve grown more attached to the seven-year-old than I anticipated I would. I love her fiercely, and I know she’s going to be upset when we have to part.

“Is Porter around?”

“He’s up in his office. I’ll, uh, I’ll show you.”

“Oh, not necessary.” She waves her hand. “I’ll find my way up. Besides, I bet there’s a certain little gremlin running around here looking forward to these cookies. They smellheavenly.” She looks down at the batch I just pulled from the oven. “Do you mind if I have one?”

“No, no, of course not. In fact…” I pull a plate from the cabinet and load it up with cookies. “Take a whole plate. Maybe share with a gremlin if you happen to come upon one.”

“Thanks.” She smiles, taking the plate. “I’m sure we’ll be back down in a bit so we can get acquainted more.”

“How long are you here for?” I’m scared to know the answer but so curious.

“Just until tomorrow.”

“Oh.” It’s all I say, because I don’t know what else to say.

Tomorrow? That’s a lot of planning to do in one day.

“Yeah. Porter is being really impatient with this whole move, so I figured I’d fly out here and get the ball rolling sooner rather than later.”

And there it is.

The confirmation he won’t give me.

“Thanks again for these,” Mel says, lifting the plate. “I’ll make sure it gets brought back down.”

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