“You have a car waiting?” Gramps asks, peering out into the street. There’s no idling Maxim to be found.
“No, I drove myself,” I say. “Left the car up at the cabin.”
“Well, let us at least drive you back to your car then,” Gramps offers.
I shrug the offer off. “I’m fine. I can walk. Iwantto walk. I’ve been cramped in the car all morning.” I hug them individually. “I love you both. I’ll see you soon for the taping, okay?”
“Okay.” Another sweet round of hugs warms me.
I wave goodbye to Hector, and after another stunned beat, he waves back. If this is the end of the road for us, at least I’ll get to remember his half smile, the look in his eyes when he opened his gifts, and the crackling feeling still heating up my heart.
At the street corner, I pull one final apology from the pocket inside my coat—a stamped letter addressed to Baz and Spencer explaining myself and taking responsibility for my actions. I drop it with a flourish into the shiny blue postal box.
I tilt my head up toward the sun, finally embracing the light—mylight; and that’s the greatest gift I could’ve given myself this year.
Chapter 41
The long TSA security check is a cacophony of zings and rings behind me. Holiday travelers argue and roll their bags back and forth in impatient misery. I stand at the inlet with my Louis Vuitton carry-on in one hand and a plane ticket in the other.
I haven’t seen him yet. Checking my Movado watch, I realize the minutes are ticking closer to departure. I didn’t get any confirmation that he’d be here, but I promised myself I’d see this through. That’s what Josiah would’ve told me to do. Even if my advance is rejected, I can begin the healing process. It’s a personal win either way. Though one success would be much sweeter than the other.
Mom and Oksana return with a carrier full of sludgy peppermint mochas from the Dunkin kiosk. “He’s not here yet?” Oksana asks. I shake my head, stuffed full of tissue paper.
“He’ll show. He will,” Mom assures me, but it does nothing to quiet my rumbling stomach.
I asked Oksana to come with me, and when Mom found out what I was up to, she invited herself. It’s all part of her promise to be more present.
If they weren’t here, I might’ve dipped by now, so I suppose it’s a good thing. Their confidence, even if wavering, helps me stay strong.
I check my watch again. And again. Over and over for the full hour.
Five minutes late. There’s probably traffic.
Ten minutes late. The parking here is a nightmare.
Twenty minutes late. My grand gesture failed.
He’s chosen tomorrow’s flight.
Acceptance is inevitable, but futile.
I sip my less-than-decent coffee, willing him one last time to appear, but he doesn’t. For once, I do wish I was one of Mom’s characters so she could write me a different ending…
“We should go,” I tell Mom, sorrowful.
Oksana tugs me tight to her side. “You tried. That’s what matters.”
She’s right. If it was meant to be, it would’ve been. Hector said it back at the lights spectacular, and now it’s holding true.
That’s okay. I’ll ring in the New Year single, but I’ll have plenty to look forward to. I’ve already begun contacting mental health nonprofits about volunteering. I put out feelers with Nan—Dad’s mom—about a loan for my eventual event-planning business. I’ve even started decorating my new apartment, giving it all the Matthew Prince interior touches it needs to feel likehome.
It’s not such an evasive word any longer. I’m investing in me, believing in me, and holding my own damn heart in caring hands, forever and ever.
Homewas inside me the whole time.
Just as I start heading toward the exit, a voice breaks above the ruckus.
“Hold the plane! Hold the plane! He’s coming! He’ll be here!” Gramps is jogging—not running—but jogging through the masses.
