My phone starts to ring as I’m holding it.
It’s my dad. “You okay?”
“Yeah, but Bray broke his goddamn leg.”
I wince at the thought. “Isheokay?”
“He’s fine. Or he will be. He got his leg stuck coming off the big tractor and fell back.”
I wince at the image.
“I hate to do this to you, but any chance you could get back today? I have to focus on getting the last of the strawberries picked and packed. And with a pair of hands down, I just don’t think we’re going to make it. I’ve been up all night at the hospital and?—”
A ring around my chest tightens and tightens, as if something’s trying to hold everything in place. Suddenly it releases, and my heart drops through the floor.
“It’s okay, Dad. I’ll see if I can move my flight.” My entire body feels heavy at the realization that I’m not going to be able to spend more of the day with Jack. Of course I feel bad for my brother and dad, but I feel bad for me too. “Let me check with the airline and I’ll let you know when I’ll be home.”
“You’re a wonder, Iris.”
I smile. We don’t talk about me giving up dance and a life in New York. But he knows.
We hang up and I start scrolling flights back to Colorado. Last minute, they’re all so expensive. The only one I can find that I can afford leaves at ten out of LaGuardia.
I squeeze my eyes shut in frustration. It means I won’t be able to make Tavern on the Green with Jack. I won’t see him again.
The fantasy is over.
Star Falls calls.
I push down the panic, the disappointment, the memories of last night and book the flight. It’s six now. It will take me an hour to get there. Maybe if I’m quick, I can drop by Tavern on the Green and leave a note to give to Jack.
I pull on some clothes and throw everything I brought into a suitcase. My program from last night sits on top of the bundle of clothes and toiletries, and I flip closed the lid to my suitcase.
I’ve checked out and I’m in a cab within ten minutes. The cab driver last night insisted on giving me the change from the money Jack gave him. I gave him a generous tip before I accepted the rest. There are plenty of homeless people around Times Square, and I figured I’d distribute the ten bucks before I left this morning. Instead, it’s paying half of my cab fare to Tavern on the Green.
When I arrive, there’s no one about. The restaurant is locked up. I bang on the door but no one answers.
I didn’t think this through.
I glance around. Maybe I can post a note under the door and hope someone takes pity on me and gives it to Jack when he arrives. But he said he’d be waiting on the curb. If I don’t show, will he even go into the restaurant?
He might. And hope is all I have right now.
I grabbed the hotel notepad and pencil from beside my bed before I left, and now I pull it out of my jeans pocket. I check the time. I don’t have long, so, leaning against the wall of the restaurant, I scribble out a note, telling him how my brother’s injured and I’ve had to leave New York early. And then just as I’m about to scrawl my cell number, I pause.
What am I doing?
Am I really expecting him to call? And won’t I be devastated if he doesn’t? I won’t ever know if he didn’t get the note or if he did and just didn’t call. Didn’t call because last night didn’t mean as much to him as it did to me.
I fell under Jack’s spell so quickly.
Before this trip to New York, I would have rolled my eyes at anyone who told me they had a whirlwind evening witha handsome, ballet-loving New Yorker with a family legacy to maintain.
A family legacy, which is another reason why I shouldn’t write down my number. Last night was wonderful. Jack was wonderful. It lifted me up and filled my soul in a way I’ve never experienced with anyone before. But it was a fantasy. A story with no chance of a happy ending.
Jack and I don’t exist in real life. We can’t.
It’s impossible.
