Sandra's expression had shifted from anger to something that looked almost like pity. "You'll regret this. A month from now, when the money runs out and you're desperate for work, you'll regret this."
"Maybe." Riley shouldered her bag, her few personal items tucked inside. "But I'll regret the things I missed tonight more. I'll regret breaking promises to people I care about. At least if I leave now, I can still try to fix some of that."
"You can't just?—"
But Riley was already walking away, past the cubicles full of people pretending not to stare, past the break room where she'd eaten lunch at her desk for seven years, past the elevator bankwhere she'd waited countless times for a car to take her home at midnight.
She didn't look back.
The elevator ride down felt surreal. Riley kept waiting for panic to set in, for the reality of what she'd just done to hit her. But all she felt was light. Free.
She'd just quit her job. No backup plan. No safety net. Nothing waiting for her except?—
Grant.
Riley checked her phone as she pushed through the revolving doors. Still no response from Grant.
She pulled up Hannah's number instead.
Riley: I'm going to miss the pageant. I'm so sorry. Please tell the kids I tried.
Hannah's response came a minute later.
Hannah: We're about to start. Call me after. Are you okay?
Riley: I will. I'm sorry.
She sprinted the three blocks to the station, her bag banging against her hip, her breath coming in gasps. The departure board showed the four fifteen train boarding on Track 7.
Riley ran faster.
She made it to the platform just as the doors started to close. She threw herself through the gap, stumbling into the nearly empty car.
The train pulled away from the station, and Riley collapsed into a seat by the window, her heart pounding, her hands shaking.
She'd done it. She'd actually done it.
Riley pulled out her phone and tried Grant again.
Riley: I'm on the train home. I know I missed the pageant and I know you're upset but please, please talk to me.
Delivered. Read.
No response.
Riley stared at the screen, willing the typing bubbles to appear. Willing Grant to say something, anything.
Nothing.
She tried calling. It rang four times and went to voicemail.
"Grant, it's me. I know you're angry. You have every right to be angry. I broke my promise and I—" Her voice cracked. "I'm so sorry. I tried everything to get away. I'm coming home. Please call me back."
She hung up and pressed her forehead against the window, watching the city disappear behind her.
The train rocked gently, carrying her toward home. Toward Grant. Toward a conversation she didn't know how to have.
Riley wrapped her arms around herself and tried not to cry.
