Fairytale time is over.
“He pulled me off this project.”
The words drop between us like stones, and I want to throw up just at hearing them out loud. My vision goes blurry with tears, and I search frantically for something to say, something to make this better.
I can’t fix this, and I know it.
“What about us?” Everett asks quietly.
I blink rapidly in an attempt to clear the tears pooling on my lashes, but the look on his face only makes me want to cry even more. He looks defeated.
No, betrayed.
And I’m the one who put that look on his face.
“You said you wanted to stay,” he reminds me when the silence stretches on too long between us.
“That’s not—I need this job, Everett,” I choke out. “I have to go back to the real world.”
It’s probably the worst thing I could have said. Everett sucks in a breath like I punched him, and that cold mask breaks. Heartbreak and pain shine through, and a tear slips from the corner of his eye to get lost in his beard.
I’ll never get to wipe his tears away again.
“You sure about this?” His voice is barely above a whisper, and it makes something break loose in me. I feel like I’m floating and sinking at the same time, my head spinning as panic and frustration tangle together and make my heartbeat pound faster and faster.
“Fuck no, I’m not sure!” I sob, the words colored with both pain and despairing laughter. “I’m not sure about anything, Everett! I have no fucking clue what I’m supposed to do, but I’ve worked my whole life for this. I’ve hardly been here for a month, but I feel like this is everything that’s been missing from my life. How the hell am I supposed to choose?”
Everett and I stare at each other, both of us at a loss for words.
“I don’t know what to do.”
He nods, and part of me wishes that he’d tell me. If Everett makes the decision for me, then I can’t be blamed for the consequences. Life isn’t that easy, though.
You don’t win the game without playing.
“I can’t give you that answer. All I know is… I’m sure about you.” There’s so much heartbreak in his voice that it feels like the world is shaking around me, and there’s nothing I can do to fix it. “I’m sure about you, but I won’t stay with someone who doesn’t feel the same way.”
He turns on his heel, and a wounded noise tears up my throat. He pauses for a second at the door, glancing back at me, but he doesn’t meet my eyes.
“Goodbye, Mary,” he says. “Thank you for all your help.”
The creak of the floorboards beneath his feet slowly fades away as he makes his way down the hallway, and I can do nothing but stare at the empty space in the doorway. I claw my way up off the floor frantically, my mind filled with nothing but the thought of chasing after him and begging for a chance to fix this. My phone chimes seconds after I stabilize myself on wobbly feet.
Taylor is approaching in a red Kia Sorrento.
Indecision once again makes me freeze in my tracks, and I almost crumple in disappointment at myself. I may not know what Iwantto do, but I do know what I’m going to do.
Tears cling stubbornly to my lashes as I shove the last few articles of clothing and my laptop into my suitcase. I pull on the only pair of shoes that I didn’t pack, and I can’t bring myself to care that the bright red flats don’t match my understated gray skirt suit at all. My legs are unsteady as I stumble my way toward the front door, and the silence in the house hurts so much more than I could have ever imagined.
When I step out onto the porch, I realize that Everett’s truck is missing from the driveway.
He and Jenny are already gone.
I’m never going to see either of them again.
My Uber comes rolling up the driveway just as that thought really hits home, and I almost double over from the enormity of it. Somehow, I manage to stuff my suitcase into the trunk and climb into the backseat. “Let’s go,” I say. I don’t raise my head, too scared I’ll see Bill or Tony looking through the windows of the car at me.
We drive away. That rusty, wrought iron Black Spruce Ranch sign slowly vanishes into the distance behind us, and I brush back tears once I can no longer see it through the trees. It’s gone. Facing the driver, I force myself to smile and ask how herday has been. I think I even make enough small talk to pass off as normal conversation, but I don’t doubt the driver can tell something is wrong.
