Page 56 of The Last Key
“Only bad girls would do something like that.” She kisses my nose, then winks at me and climbs out of the bed, swaying her hips as she walks to the bathroom.
I don’t want her to leave tomorrow, either. Even a night without her feels like too long, but I push the thought away, refusing to let anything ruin how incredible tonight has been.
A few minutes later, she’s nestled in my arms as we both drift off to sleep.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
KENNEDY
Wednesday
I sleptlike shit last night. Actually, that’s not true. I slept hard for the first half of the night after Devon owned my body. I’m not sure if it was more fun being a bad girl or a good girl. Unfortunately, when I woke up to pee at 2:45, it was all downhill from there. My brain took over, and I was in a fit of restless sleep over this interview.
This interview that I was awake at 4:30 in the morning for, so I can get to the airport on time for my 6:30 flight to New York. I’m a little queasy from being up so early, though Devon managed to make a decent breakfast sandwich for me and a latte, so I have something to eat on the way to the airport.
“I wish you’d let me take you,” he whispers, holding me close in the house’s entryway. My ride pulls up outside, and my heart constricts at having to say goodbye to him. These last few years apart have sucked. I cried every time we said goodbye, and that was just as friends—even if I was in love with him but hadn’tadmitted it. I reason with myself, reminding my achy heart that I’ll be back tomorrow night.
He hugs me tighter, and this is why I won’t let him take me. I won’t get on the plane if he does. We’re still in the just-got-together honeymoon period. The last thing I want is to say goodbye to him, and no doubt my heart would take over if I tried at the airport.
“You have plenty to do at the inn, plus I don’t want you driving when you’re tired. Anyway, I’ll be back tomorrow. It’ll barely be thirty-six hours apart,” I say as much for me as for him.
He sighs, twisting his fingers through the strands of hair that have fallen out of my messy ponytail. “And I’ll be there waiting when you get off the plane.” He kisses the side of my head. “You’re going to kick ass, babe.”
“Assuming I’m not too jet-lagged to function.”
He steps back and squints at me. “You’ll do amazing. Come on.”
He picks up my bag—just a small carry on since I have clothes back at my apartment—and opens the front door. Reluctantly, I follow him out.
At the car, he puts my bag in the backseat, then presses me against the back of the car and kisses me again. “Call me tonight and I’ll see you tomorrow.” There’s a look of deep longing in his eyes that matches the feeling in my soul. “Love you.”
“Love you too. I’ll text you when I get there.”
After one last kiss and a lingering look, I climb into the car. He shuts the door behind me, but I immediately roll down the window.
“Fly safe,” he says, stepping back from the car.
“I’ll do my best.” As I wave, the car pulls away, and I feel the same emptiness I always feel when I say goodbye to him. Thankfully, the reminder I keep giving myself that I’ll be back soon is keeping me from bawling like I usually do.
With a deep breath, I open my foil-wrapped sandwich and munch on it while focusing on what’s ahead of me. It’ll feel goodto walk into that office with my head held high. My former department head was a pig who got what was coming to him, and I’m returning triumphant, like a scene from a movie. As a senior editor, I’d be overseeing other staff and helping them with their pieces. And I might finally get the chance to do more human-interest pieces between reviewing books. It’s my dream job.
At least, that’s what my dream job would be if I wrote down a bullet point list. Not to mention finally feeling like I made it. That was always part of the plan. Get my foot in the door and work my way up. Have a strong career doing the thing I love—writing.
I thought all that was taken from me. Now I have a path back. Yet something feels off. Not to return to old analogies, but it feels like someone left the door open, and I’m wandering through.Seems like a good option. Might as well take it.
If I do take it, what does that mean for Devon and me? He said we’d figure it out together, that he’d be with me anywhere, but would he really just pack up and leave his life behind for me to take this job? Would it be fair for me to ask that of him?
I don’t know.
But it wouldn’t have to be forever. I could use this job to gain experience, then find something based in San Francisco. We could move back here. Until then we could visit often. The benefit of being a writer is that you can write from anywhere. I could write at the inn, or even the library, so I wouldn’t have to completely give those things up.
Why hasn’t any of this excited me?
Writing is what I want to do, right?
“Would you like to listen to anything?” the driver asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.
I glance up at the rearview, then down at the phone in my hand. “No. That’s all right, thanks. I’ve got something to listen to on my phone.”
