“Travel safely,” he said, then he turned and headed back to the entrance to the inn.
Phil stood outside the suite’s door for several minutes, trying to collect herself. She pulled in deep breath after increasingly deep breath, shoring up her nerves before reentering the room. But when she went back in, it was empty. The French doors to the patio were opened, the sheer curtains billowing slightly in the breeze.
She walked out onto the private patio and spotted Jamal standing at the edge of the creek.
Phil made her way down the pebbled trail that stretched from their room to the creek. She stopped a few feet behind him, staring at his solid back as he stood with his feet braced apart, his shoulders rigid, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his black pants.
“He’s gone,” she called in a hushed voice.
Her pronouncement was met with silence, the gurgle of the creek and squawk of a bird flying overhead the only sounds.
“Our flight leaves in less than four hours,” she said. “If we’re going to make it back to Phoenix in time, we need to start packing now.”
A long, pregnant pause stretched between them before Jamal finally spoke.
“I called a car service to pick you up in a half-hour,” he said.
The dull ache that had settled in her chest mushroomed into a cloud of hurt that enveloped her entire being. Phil wrapped her arms around her middle in an attempt to stop the pain from pummeling her to the ground.
“Don’t do this, Jamal,” she said in an anguished whisper. “You promised me you wouldn’t hurt me.”
His back remained rigid as he continued to stare out over the water.
“I’m sorry for overstepping,” she said, her voice breaking over the words. “But that is no reason for you to do this. Don’t shut me out.”
His shoulders rose slightly with the breath he took.
“You should pack,” he said.
Phil pulled her trembling lips between her teeth. She stared at him until his body was completely blurred by the tears that welled in her eyes.
The tears cascaded down her cheeks as she returned to the suite and packed her bags. They streamed in earnest as she rode in the back seat of the hired car, as she boarded the plane in Phoenix, and, hours later, as she laid her head on her pillow back at her house in Gauthier.
Chapter 15
Jamal sat onthe edge of the rock-strewn cliff, looking out over the red clay that stretched for miles around him. He’d give anything to have his sax in his hand. He needed the solace that came with losing himself in a piece of music.
He rubbed at the ache that had resided in his chest for the past five days. It started the moment he’d sent Phylicia away. No matter what he tried, the pain refused to let up.
Jamal pitched a rock into the hollow vastness that lay before him. He’d been so damn philosophical this week, he was driving himself crazy. But he could not escape the symbolism. The never-ending stretch of nothingness mimicked his life to perfection.
He’d reached a new low point. The most amazing woman he would ever have the luxury of knowing had told him she loved him, and he’d sent her packing.
Here he was, only a couple of hours from his family, and yesterday, he’d spent Thanksgiving with two strangers at a bed-and-breakfast in Lake Montezuma. What did that say about the state his life was in? What did that say about him?
That he was a damn coward.
The ugly truth had hit him square in the gut as soon as he’d returned to the suite he’d shared with Phylicia back in Sedona. She’d tried to save him from suffering the same fate she’d met, but he’d been too much of a coward to face the truth of her words. Too afraid to accept his role in the mess he’d made of his relationship with his father.
Jamal figured it was easier to just walk away, to lay the blame for his shattered relationships at everyone else’s feet. It was his father’s lack of respect that had caused this chasm to stretch between them. It was Phylicia’s dogged insistence at sticking her nose where it didn’t belong that had caused him to send her away.
But it was his own stubbornness that had him here, all alone, his mind reverberating with all the things he’d fought valiantly to keep at bay. The truth was laid bare now, demanding an audience, and Jamal could do nothing but see it for what it was. Phylicia had been right. He could spend the rest of his life coming up with projects to keep him occupied so that he could put off opening his firm. The only thing that had been stopping him washim.
And his gut-wrenching, soul-stealing fear of failing.
It was that fear of proving his father’s prophecy right—that he would have to come crawling back a failure—that was at the root of his fear.
But what if he didn’t fail?
