Page 87 of Still The One

‘I haven’t even booked one yet,’ I confess as I step inside his home, not sure if I’m ready to face the reality of leaving Evie behind – but I’ve got no choice now. She doesn’t even want to see me, let alone talk.

As I sink onto Phil’s couch, my phone open to a flight finder, the weight of everything crashes down on me.

‘I can’t believe she’s giving up on us. Again.’

Phil places a warm cup of tea in front of me, the steam rising slowly, offering comfort in its simple gesture.

‘You know, sometimes things fall apart so that better things can come together,’ Phil says softly, his voice filled with understanding. ‘You’ll figure it out.’

‘I wish I were as hopeful. But I’m not. This feels just like it did the first time. No closure at all, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she hands you a note to give to me before I leave…’

He smiles sadly. ‘Maybe I can try to talk to her?’

I shake my head. ‘I can’t risk pissing her off more than I already have, can I?’

As night falls outside, casting shadows that dance across the walls like memories fading into the distance, I drift off to sleep on Phil’s couch, with a sense of dread settling over me. Tomorrow morning I leave – without her. If there’s a way to save this, I hope it comes to me soon.

31

EVE CASSIDY

Freaking Phil. He spent most of the night convincing me via text to at least drive Foster to the airport and give him some closure.

Is that a bad idea? Probably. But here we are, strolling from my car which is parked in the airport garage. I insisted on carrying his bag even though it’s almost half my size but midway through our walk, he gently takes it from me.

‘I can carry my own bag,’ he states. The warmth in his voice is no longer there and it stabs at my heart a bit.

I don’t know what I was thinking because deep down, I knew that he couldn’t stay in Portland. His life is in Florida – and on the road, with every energy drink extreme sports event available to man – and he loves it. Even I can’t deny it’s what he was meant to do. He’s not the top FMX rider because he runs around partying and vacationing. He works his ass off, and he deserves to return to it after everything he’s recently been through. Knowing Foster as well as I do, I’m certain he can’t wait to reunite with his bike and hit the track again.

He flashes me a shy grin as we stop before the boarding screens to look for his flight. He casually drops his bag onto the floor, then reaches into his pocket to retrieve his phone,navigating through the screens with nimble fingers to find his electronic ticket.

‘Care to share your thoughts?’ he asks, casting a brief glance in my direction before shifting his gaze to the boarding screens again.

‘You don’t want to know,’ I say, peeking at his phone to glimpse his flight number.

Then I nervously scan the departure board, half-hoping to spot the words ‘CANCELED’ or ‘DELAYED’ next to his flight number but to my dismay, it simply reads ‘ON TIME’.

I can’t help but feel conflicted. Part of me – a big part – wants him to stay. The other part is waving a red flag and I’ve ignored that before. I can’t be with someone who keeps things from me. I’ve learned that lesson the hard way twice now.

‘I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you,’ he says, slowly strolling over to a bench just before the passenger-only zone. ‘But I will pay you back,’ he murmurs. ‘You didn’t have to step up, but you did, and for that, I’ll forever owe you.’

I force a smile as if it were no big deal. Like, I’d do it for anyone. But the truth is, I wouldn’t. The only person who’s ever made my heart stop and caused me to take weeks off work, even after not seeing him in years, was him, and now it’s time for us to say goodbye for good.

‘You don’t owe me anything,’ I say, my voice soft, trying to convey that there are no debts or obligations between us.

‘Except for one divorce,’ he says, with a tinge of sadness. ‘I promise I will take care of it as soon as I return.’

Why does the thought of that hurt? I insisted he take care of it, fueled by my frustration over his failure to disclose the truth earlier, so I don’t doubt by next weekend, I’ll be a single woman again.

‘Flight 857 to Tallahassee, Florida, is now boarding at Gate 4A.’ The words that I’ve been fearing ever since I told himto buy a ticket now reverberate through the airport corridors, enveloping us in their weighty significance.

As our gazes lock, I see a flicker of panic and perhaps a touch of regret in his eyes. Yet we remain motionless, not even making a single effort to change our positions.

He finally releases a heavy breath. ‘I suppose that would be me,’ he mutters, rising from the bench but hesitating to pick up his bag. Instead, he reaches his hand toward me, offering to help me up, and I accept it.

His sudden one-armed embrace envelops me, pulling me into his warmth and closeness. I respond by holding him just as tightly, feeling the strength of his uninjured arm around me, and I feel safe. I breathe him in, allowing his cologne to fill my senses, making the moment all the more intense. One I’ll never forget. Is this the last time I’ll have him this close? He kisses the side of my head, his lips lingering.

‘I left something with Phil, for you.’

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