Page 3 of The One I Want
Damn, was I this blind the whole time? Here I thought it was just a bump in the road. Turns out it was the end of it.
“Your kids aren’t something to show for your life? Our marriage? Our life? What happened to you, Cara?”
She shrugs. “I want more.”
I didn’t know three words could sting like that. “Where are you going?”
She takes the few steps she needs to grab hold of each bag. “California. I have friends out there. I’m going to stay with them until I figure out what my next step is.”
I move out of the way as she begins to walk past me.
“What am I supposed to tell the kids? You’re just going to leave them without saying goodbye?”
“I think it’s better this way. Clean break. It’s your turn to parent.”
“Are you saying you don’t want to even share custody?”
She shrugs as she opens the door and steps out.
“Cara! Wait!”
She stops, and I see her shoulders rise and fall as she takes in a breath. “What?”
I don’t know what I want to ask. Hell, I don’t even know why I called after her. Clearly she doesn’t want to be here. And clearly I’m an idiot for thinking my marriage was still somewhat intact. “This is it. You’re done. We’re done. Because once you leave, don’t think you can come back.”
She turns to look back at me. “Goodbye, Wes.”
And with that, she shuts the door.
Chapter2
Betsy
“That was the last one.I think. I hope. Good God, I thought Whitley had a lot of shoes.”
I look around the bedroom as Jake drops the last box on the floor. I told him and Whitley I’d hire movers. I knew the amount of boxes I had. I watched them being loaded onto the pod when I moved here from Birmingham. But no, Jake is too good of a guy and insisted that he and his friends would help me move my boxes now that I’m in my rental home. My best friend’s fiancé is way too sweet.
“Thanks again,” I say, trying not to be overwhelmed at what is going to be weeks of unpacking. “For everything.”
“It’s our pleasure,” Whitley says, giving me a side hug. “I’m just glad I could help you out.”
“You’re more than helping me out. You’re saving me. Literally.”
One of my bad habits is I say the word “literally” when I should say figuratively. But this time, I’m actually using it in the right context. Whitley McEvoy, soon to be Evans, is saving me.
“You would have figured it out,” she says, moving a box from the living room into the kitchen.
“Oh, because I’m so great at figuring things out?” I ask sarcastically. “I’m pretty sure my lack of being able to do that is how I’m in this situation.”
“You just haven’t found your passion yet,” Whitley says as she heads back for another box. Maybe I should help instead of standing here just watching everyone else move my stuff. “But you will. I can feel it.”
I wish I was as confident as her. In some ways I am. Before she met Jake, neither of us had problems approaching men at a party or bar. When it came to being the confident leaders of our sorority, we never flinched when a decision needed to be made.
But when it comes to life in general? We couldn’t be more opposite. And not in a good way—at least on my part.
There’s Whitley, graduating from Alabama with a double degree in business and marketing. She opened her own event planning business when she was twenty-four. By twenty-six, she was turning down events because she was that high in demand. Even after she moved to Rolling Hills, her business expanded to Nashville, and she’s killing it in every sense of the word.
Then there’s me. I have a degree in general studies and four minors because that’s how many times I changed paths, and at the end of the day, that’s what my credits all equaled out to. I’ve never had an “adult” job. Since graduating from college seven years ago, I’ve been a waitress, worked multiple retail jobs, been a substitute teacher, joined an MLM for a hot minute, and was the worst secretary in the history of secretaries. I also tried my hand at the whole content creator thing. Jake made it look so easy. Granted, I can’t do what he does. The man accidentally became a dancing thirst trap. Turns out, being a content creator is harder than it looks. Who knew you actually had to have content to create it?
