by Susan Cairns
“Taylor, you’ve known him three weeks.”
“I know,” I say, shaking my open palms in front of me. “But this connection between us, it was there. It’s still there. Every time I listen to one of his voicemails, I get chills all over my body, it’s like a reaction to him.”
“Maybe it’s an allergy, not a connection,” she jokes, and I bump into her arm. “So he’s called. Did you call him back?” As we step up to the Starbucks door, she pulls it open and waits for me to pass by.
“No, I’m not sure what to say, and I’m kind of afraid I’m going to lose my shit.”
“Then lose your shit!” she says too loudly for the little area. “I mean, he deserves it, and you deserve to know why he chose you to be the one he cheated with,” Casey adds as we step up to the counter.
The barista gives us a wide-eyed look and a forced smile. “Morning, ladies, what can I get you today?”
“I’ll have a venti coffee light frappe with mocha syrup.”
I tip my head at Casey, wondering where that came from. “Changing it up?”
“Coffee frappe has more caffeine and it tastes pretty awesome with some chocolate added.”
“Nice, you chocolate fiend.” I roll my eyes at her then look at the girl behind the counter. “I’ll have a venti nonfat latte.”
“Anything else?”
“Um, actually I’ll need another nonfat latte, but I’ll mobile order it before we leave.”
“Okay, then it’s going to be eight fifty-nine,” she advises.
I hold out my phone so she can scan the barcode in my app before I put in the order for Miranda’s drink to be picked up in thirty minutes. While I’m paying, Casey grabs us a table by the windows and I go to the end of the counter to wait for our drinks. Unlike during the normal morning chaos, they’re done in a couple of minutes, so I grab a straw off the counter for Casey and head to the table. Her drink, covered in whipped cream, looks amazing, so I suck a mouthful of sugary cream off the top.
“Hey, I saw that!” she yells when I’m a couple of steps away.
“Calm down, we’re not the only ones in here and I think we already scared the barista.”
“So keep going.” Casey motions for me to continue as she puts her straw in the cup. “Where is the assbag anyway?”
“He’s in Chicago. His dad had a heart attack. Miranda filled me in this morning. She thought I’d know because apparently Reid and I weren’t as stealthy as we thought we were.”
“She knew you were together?”
“I guess other people know too. Don’t play innocent.” I give her my best bad cop look.
“I didn’t say anything,” she replies too fast. “That was all you two. It was pretty obvious something was going on.”
“So why didn’t you say something to me?”
“Does it matter? It’s not against the rules.”
“True, but it’s frowned upon.”
“Says who, Miranda?”
“No, she didn’t say that, but I could tell it wasn’t something she was keen on.”
“Please, she’s just jealous he didn’t choose her. Is that what she wanted to talk about this morning? Did she say if his dad was okay?”
“It’s part of what she wanted to talk about. She wants me to look over the accounts until he gets back. And no, she didn’t say how he was doing.”
“How bad do you want to call him now?”
I sigh. “Really bad. I want to make sure his dad’s okay and that he is too, but I’m not going to.”
“I don’t blame you. What else did Miranda want to talk about?”
“It’s not what she wanted, it’s what I wanted, and that’s the other thing I have to tell you.” I break eye contact, tipping my head toward my lap.
“Oh shit, why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like what you’re about to say?”
“Because you’re not.” I lift my head to meet her eyes again.
“Hit me with it, pull off the Band-Aid.”
“When this thing with Reid and me started, we talked about how things were going to go for us down the road, if it went anywhere, with work. So I decided to start looking, and well, I got an offer.”
Her eyes bug out. “You’re leaving Great Lakes?”
“I am. My last day is Friday.”
“What the fuck, Tay!” Casey practically yells, with her eyes bugging out of her head. “What am I going to do without you?”
“Case,” I say, the tone of my voice going soft. “This doesn’t change anything. We’ll still go to Fran’s on Fridays, and we can even meet for lunch.”
“Oh my god,” She slams her hand over her chest and blinks dramatically, while taking a deep breath and blowing it out. “Thank god. I thought you were going to tell me you were moving.”
“No, what gave you that impression?”
“You want to get to New York. I thought that maybe this was it.”
I shake my head. “I’m not ready for that yet. I mean, professionally I probably am, but personally I’m not.”
Casey breathes a sigh of relief. “Don’t scare me like that again.”
“Sorry my personal inadequacies are a relief to you.”
“That’s not what I mean. I know you want to get there, but I don’t want you to go. Not without me, at least.”
“Let’s make a deal. If I go to the city, I’ll wait for you to finish school so you can come too.”
“Sounds like a plan.” She gives me a smile.
“Are you ready to head back now?”
“No,” Casey answers, scrunching up her nose. “But we probably have to.”
“We do, and we both have to make up this time later,” I add, and Casey gives me a deer-in-the-headlights look. “It’s the deal I made.”
“You have to stop making deals with the devil. Maybe we should get some ex-lax to slip in her latte,” Casey says and wiggles her eyebrows.
“Uh no, we should be grateful she even let us do this.”
“Whatever. Go get her drink, minion.”
On our way back to the office, Casey reminds me that I owe her dinner and since I’m the reason we have to work over, she’s going to want wine to go along with it. Of course I concede and we agree to get takeout that I’ll pick up and pay for while she runs to the liquor store to get our beverage. By the time we get back, I’ve almost forgotten about my shitty weekend and Reid. Almost.
Chapter Seventeen
Reid
My flight landed fifteen minutes ago and I’m still fighting to get off this damn plane. Something told me to sit toward the front, but another family with multiple kids got on right in front of me and I wanted to be as far away from them as I could. Now I’m paying the price, waiting at the end of the line for all of them to get their shit together and get out. I don’t have the patience to wait around, not after the week I’ve had. Right now, all I want to do is get home and get my life back together. I have a month to get things settled before Mom and Dad get on a plane to come visit me.
Dad was released from the hospital on Wednesday, but I stayed a couple extra days to make sure he was settled and the home care nurse was scheduled. Jordan, Mom, and I think he should have stayed in the hospital for another day or two, but Dad wasn’t having it. As soon as he was able to bitch about the hospital food, that was all he did. Now he’s happy because he’s home, resting with his own TV and remote. He starts cardiac therapy next week and thinks that he’s going to be the star pupil and graduate the program early. We’ll see. The therapist said that it’s a minimum of four weeks, which Dad agreed to because he’s getting on a plane to Buffalo, come hell or high water.
Since I haven’t told him what happened the day he had his heart attack, I have a lot of explaining to do, either before they come or when they get here. Mom’s going to let me know when she thinks he’s strong enough to hear it. I don’t think it’s going to upset him as much as she does, but she’s the boss and I’m not arguing. He did, however, ask why Jordan and I were
packing up my things when I live with someone in a fully furnished apartment. Mom told him it was cheap for me to rent a unit in Buffalo and it’ll be easier for me to move my things in when I buy a house. Which is all true, but not what I’m doing.
After practically selling my soul to the devil, I talked Jordan into driving my things back for me so I’ll have a chance to go break things off with Jennifer. I didn’t want to show up with a trailer full of my things and blindside her. So I flew home today, and instead of going to Fran’s to see Taylor, I’m going to end things with Jennifer and start to put my new life together.
On the plane, when I was trying to ignore the family of screaming children, I wrote a note for Taylor. That piece of paper that is now burning a hole in my bag, even though I know she’s probably not going to read it until tomorrow. Since I know she’s probably out, I’m going to slip it in the frame of her storm door and pray she doesn’t come home shit-faced and let it fall out.
Finally, the line moves, and in minutes, I’m in the jetway, passing the noisy family as the parents try to wrangle their rambunctious kids. When I hit the gate, I brush past the people waiting for the next flight. I can’t be more thankful that the Buffalo airport is not even half as busy as Midway.
With my small carry-on suitcase dragging behind me, I pass all of the local restaurant kiosks and my mouth starts to water. Buffalo really does have some of the best food. I can understand why they put it in the airport to entice travelers. Too bad I don’t have time to stop for something to eat, or maybe my stomach growling is just a way of my body trying to procrastinate.
Reaching the end of the hall, I walk past the lines of people waiting for security, then I go down the escalator to the baggage claim. I wait outside at the curb for the shuttle to take me out to the long-term parking lot, then the hunt for my Jeep begins. My ticket has my section number on it, but I was so out of it when I got here last Friday, I didn’t pay attention to where in the lot I parked. That’s why I’m walking around like a dumbass with my key fob lifted above my head, hitting my panic button.
Finally my alarm goes off two rows over. Once I see the lights flashing, I push the panic button again and silence the alarm. Too bad Google Maps only tells me where my car is parked and not what spot it’s in. It could have saved me from being embarrassed.
Popping the hatch, I set my bag on the bumper so I can get the note out before I toss the bag all the way in. I tuck the folded paper in my front pocket then make my way to the driver’s seat and crawl in. It’s late May and not that warm, but you wouldn’t know that if you tried to take a deep breath in my car. It’s stuffy from sitting unused all week. As soon as the engine comes to life, I crank the AC, turning the temp as cold as it will go. Then I pull out and make my way to the toll barrier.
Leave it to me to get a flight that comes in at the peak of rush hour. When I scheduled my return flight, I was only thinking about Chicago traffic, not Buffalo’s. When I reach the exit from the thirty-three to the ninety, it’s like a parking lot. Just another thing to make me sweat. Not that I have a time crunch or anything. I just want to get this shit over with.
After crawling for several minutes, I finally move, although I’m going nowhere near the speed limit. I only have three exits before I have to get off to go to Taylor’s and I’m getting more anxious by the minute. I wish I had Casey’s number to make sure they’re out. Not that she’d answer me, or maybe she would—she did think we’d be together right from the beginning.
The first exit blows by, then the second and third, and now I’m merging to get off the highway. My palms are so sweaty and all I’m doing is leaving a note. For god’s sake, I’ve called her several times this past week, so why am I so much more nervous now? Probably because she’ll know I’m back in town and I’m completely leaving the ball in her court. What surprises me more is that I’m not nervous at all to go back to the condo and end things with Jennifer. I’m even prepared to get a hotel room for the night so she doesn’t have to see me anymore. Just goes to show where my head is.
Turning onto Taylor’s street, I see her driveway is empty, so I pull in right up to the garage where she usually parks. I hop out, leaving the Jeep running, then run up her porch steps. I open the storm door enough to make sure the note is bent between the frame and the actual door. Then I run back the way I came. I need to get out of here before I change my mind. Waiting until Monday at work to talk to her is not a good idea, especially if she wants to rip my head off. Of course, I don’t know if that’s what she wants because she won’t respond to me. Great, now I’m rambling in my head.
Backing out of the driveway, I wait for a minute or two, looking down the street toward Fran’s. I want to go there, but I know the next step is more important than showing up and ruining her night. I head back to the highway, which is still congested but moving better than it was when I was on my way here. Not that it matters. Jennifer probably won’t be home anyway, or maybe she will. I did text her this morning and tell her when my flight would be in. It was the first time I initiated contact with her all week. Knowing Jennifer, she probably thinks I was busy with my dad all week. Which is true, but I could have called her back, or called her at all. The truth is I didn’t want to talk to her, especially after I decided to do what I’m about to do.
I merge onto Elmwood and follow the traffic toward the city. After miles of stop-and-go, I’m now the one blocking everyone as I wait to turn left onto our side street. I have to wait until the light turns red again and run it in order to turn. Then I hang a quick right into the parking lot and get a surprise—Jennifer’s car is parked in her spot.
“Well, shit, I guess I don’t get to pack my things before we have this conversation,” I say to myself. Leaving my carry-on bag in the Jeep, I head into the condo to get this over with.
The outside door slams, announcing my arrival and I’m sure Jennifer hears it. Actually I know she does because the door to the condo flies open before I’m halfway down the hall.
“Reid?” Jennifer asks even though she can clearly see it’s me.
“Hey, Jennifer,” I say, keeping my voice neutral, not wanting to give anything away.
“How’s your dad?” she asks, running her hand down my right arm as I pass her.
“He’s doing better, getting stronger every day and bitching up a storm.” I stop at the end of the sectional and lean against the arm.
“That’s good. If he’s complaining, it means he’s feeling better.” She stops about a foot in front of me, her body rigid like she’s waiting for my confession.
“I guess so. Listen, Jennifer, I’m not really sure how to do this, so I’m just going to come out and say it. Getting the call about my dad put some things in perspective for me.” I watch her for a reaction. I want to know if she sees this coming, but if she does, she doesn’t give it away. “I don’t want to hurt you, but this isn’t working for me, and I think if you really think about it, you’d agree.”
“Is that why you didn’t call me this week?” Jennifer asks, the only trace of emotion she’s showing is a raised brow.
“Kind of, but not calling you was a dick move and I’m sorry,” I apologize and lower my head, looking at the carpet.
“Does this, by any chance, have anything to do with the long hours you’ve been working?” she asks, not beating around the bush, crossing her arms over her chest.
“That’s part of it, but not all of it.” I raise my eyes to her. “Can you honestly say you feel a connection between us? You feel the chemistry that’s necessary for a relationship to grow?” I motion between the two of us.
“I believe that people grow to love one another. You have to get to know someone fully before you can decide if you love them.”
“I don’t believe that. I think that love can happen in an instant. It’s a cosmic connection between two people who are meant to be together, and we don’t have that.”
A tear rolls down her cheek and she wipes it quickly. “You met the person you have
that connection with, didn’t you?” She continues before I can confirm or deny anything. “It’s not me.” She swipes at her face again then crosses her arms.
“I think I did, and no, it’s not you,” I confirm then hang my head. “I should have told you a couple of weeks ago, but I didn’t and that was so wrong of me.”
“Who is she?”
“Does it matter?” I ask, looking at her.
“It’s the blonde, isn’t it?” She nods, knowing the answer to her own question. “The young one you work with.”
“Her name is Taylor.”
“Does she know about me?” Jennifer asks cocking her head to the side, her lips pressed together in a thin line.
“She does now,” I answer, turning my head so I don’t have to look at Jennifer.
“So you told her before you broke things off with me?”
I shake my head, then return my eyes to Jennifer, “Not exactly. She found out when you handed her my birthday cake.”
“And she’s still talking to you?” Jennifer asks letting a sarcastic laugh escape.
“No, she’s not, but…”
“Good,” she says forcefully. “I hope she’s realized what kind of person you are.” Jennifer turns and walks away from me toward the kitchen, where she picks up her purse before coming back to the door. “I’m going to my parents’. When I get back, you better be gone.”
“Okay.”
“And Reid?” She looks over her shoulder at me.
“Yeah?”
“Fuck you!” She pulls the door open and disappears through it.
“Well, I didn’t see that coming,” I say to the empty room.
Before getting up to go pack my things, I wait for a minute to make sure Jennifer isn’t going to come back. Just like my first day in the condo, I go from room to room, this time packing my things. I set each packed box or suitcase in the living room before moving on to the next. Unsurprisingly, it only takes me about forty-five minutes to pack everything, then another fifteen to get it loaded in the Jeep. After I close the hatch, I go back inside to drop my key on the kitchen counter and lock the door behind me for the last time.