Page 86 of Break Out

“I can’t,” I say, finally meeting her eyes. “We’re done. It was a fun fake relationship for my sister’s wedding. Now, I’m packing my bags to move thousands of miles away.” Before she can answer, my laptop dings with a meeting reminder.

Saved by the bell.

Summer gets to her feet, throwing me a we’re not done with this conversation look before she walks out of my office. I nod because what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. I hope she’s not too mad at me when she finds out that I’m leaving tomorrow instead of in two weeks. By the time she reads my text in the morning, I’ll be on a plane heading across the ocean. I hope she forgives me for leaving without a proper goodbye, but I know if I stay any longer, she’ll convince me to talk to Brody. To figure things out with him.

And I can’t.

I need to go do this.

Go live my life and let him live his.

We were never going to work. I don’t know why I thought we might.

I survey my messy living room, boxes piled everywhere. How did I think I was going to pack up my whole life in one night? Even if I stay up all night, there’s no way I can get everything done. It seems more and more like the one trip back here that I’d planned to make isn’t going to be enough either.

My plan had been to box up as much as I could—hopefully everything—tonight. Then next month come back and finish packing, hire professional cleaners, and list my home as a furnished rental on the university website. There’s always visiting professors who need a place to stay, so I figured that was the easiest and fastest way to get a tenant in the house.

I didn’t take into consideration how much stuff I have. How much time it would really take to pack. I don’t remember having all of this when I moved in five years ago. I glance at the books stacked along one wall, blu-rays piled on top of them, waiting to be boxed. The knickknacks and picture frames on the coffee table and floor, half packed. With a groan, I sit on the couch, grab my glass of wine, and take a healthy swig. I haven’t even started in my bedroom. Or the kitchen.

My phone rings, interrupting my spiral.

“Hi sis,” I say to Bri, trying to infuse some happiness into my voice.

“Hey, Aubrey. Clara’s here too.” Oh.

“Hi, Clara. Why aren’t you on your honeymoon?”

“We’re not leaving until next week. Chet had some things he had to take care of at work.”

“What’s going on?” Bri asks, her voice stern.

“What do you mean?” I ask before finishing my wine with one final sip. I don’t like the direction this conversation is going. I weave my way around the boxes scattered around the room and head into the kitchen.

“You and Brody? You broke up,” Clara states.

Oh shit. Maybe I shouldn’t have told them.

“We were fake. It was always going to end after the wedding anyway.” I grab the wine bottle from the fridge—probably going to need more than one glass if this is where this conversation is going.

“Maybe it started off as fake, but you’re both in love with each other. Everyone could see it. Even Thad,” Bri scolds.

I take a big gulp of my wine. “I got a job in Hawaii. Surprise. I’m flying there tomorrow.”

“You what?” Clara says.

“Why didn’t you say anything to us?” Bri asks softly, and I can hear the hurt in her voice.

“Because I didn’t want to overshadow Clara and Chet’s week. Besides, I wasn’t supposed to start until October, but things changed, and their current director is retiring next month,” I say, tucking the phone against my ear so I have both hands free. I grab the pile of brown packing paper off the floor and begin wrapping the knick knacks I took off the television stand earlier.

“That’s awesome. But what does that have to do with you and Brody’s relationship?” Clara asks.

“For starters, there are no hockey teams there. He was going to retire so he could come with me.”

“And?” Bri asks.

“I couldn’t let him do that for me. I refuse. You both may be okay with the sacrifices you made for love, but I’m not. I don’t want him to wake up one day and hate me because of it.” My words come out much harsher than I meant them to, but if the reason they called was to give me a hard time, I’ve got better things to do. Like packing up my house.

“What sacrifices do you think we made?” Bri asks quietly.