Page 53 of Romantic

“You’re already broken too many promises. I hate to say this, but I don’t trust you anymore. Not about this.”

***

I spend most of the night packing. As I empty the shelves and drawers of our temporary home, I feel a little like I’m boxing up my dreams. Am I giving up or just retreating? I tell myself I’m leaving because of Pepper. And that is reason enough to go.

But also, I don’t want to be here when Annie leaves. I don’t have it in me to say goodbye and pretend that I don’t care that she’s sailing off with another man. And once she’s gone, I’m afraid everything at Norland Park will remind me of her. The hotel lobby will feel all wrong without Annie’s music.

***

Since last Monday when Annie set sail for Hawaii with Jack, I’ve been walking around in a gloomy trance. I have a hard time caring about anything except the weather. I’m obsessed with checking my weather app, especially along the route they would take to sail down the coast. I can’t bear to think of those two on a sailboat together. The idea is so repulsive to me, I don’t ask Edward or Elinor if they’ve heard from Annie, though I’m anxious for confirmation that she’s alive and well.

Today I’m on a Facetime call with Edward; he’s in Elinor’s office not far from the hotel lobby. The flowers in the background look like an Annie arrangement, but I don’t really know how long flowers last. She’s only been gone for eleven days, but who’s counting? Edward is talking to me about the current plans for the new hotel, when I hear the piano in the background.

The song is sad and passionate and so full of emotion. It sounds like Annie, but it can’t be, because she’s somewhere in the Pacific.

I hope the weather is good. I hope they don’t hit any storms. I hope he packed enough food. Jack seems like the type to not pack quite enough food—or a decent first aid kit. I should have done more to keep her from going.

“Do you agree?” Edward asks. I have no idea what he is talking about. I’ve been too lost in my thoughts.

“Who’s playing piano?” I ask.

“Annie, of course.”

“Annie? But isn’t she on her sailing trip.”

“Oh! I thought you knew.”

“Knew what?”

“Jack ghosted her.”

“He ghosted her?” I feel a surge of anger on Annie’s behalf. How dare he? But my anger is swiftly followed by a deep sadness. I know how it feels to be left, and my heart breaks for Annie’s pain. “What can I do?”

“You already punched the guy. That’s a good start,” says Edward with a slight laugh. “I don’t know, Brandon. Elinor’s really worried. She says this isn’t like Annie’s other break ups. She’s taking it much harder this time.” These words douse any flicker of hope I’ve been clinging to that Annie has some feelings for me. She loved Jack—she probably still loves him—and with a heart like hers, it will take a long time for her to get over him.

I don’t think I’ll tell Pepper that Annie’s single. She’ll want me to go straight to Norland Park and sweep Annie off her feet. And it’s far too soon.

But I can’t remain silent. As her friend, I have to say something.

I send Annie a text.

Brandon

I just heard about Jack. I am so sorry. You deserve better. If you need anything . . .

I consider typing, “I’ll gladly give him another bloody nose.” But then think better of it. Considering that Jack disappeared shortly after I punched him, it’s possible that Annie blames me for the end of her great romance. I decide not to joke about the bloody nose. I simply end with:

I’m here.

The stupid, rascally folly of my own heart. —Sense and Sensibility

17

Annie

How’s this for a sign?

I stare at the empty slip where Jack’s sailboat should be. We had planned to set off for Hawaii this morning. But after twenty-four hours of nothing from Jack, I’m not surprised to find Queen Mab has set sail. I only came to the yacht club to see for myself what I already suspected: Jack is gone, and he’s not coming back. Still, I add one more text to the long string of unanswered ones.