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I guess I’ll never know.
When I first found out that Garret had cheated on me, I felt so dumb—like I should have seen all the signs but didn’t. With Aiden, I’m surprised that I don’t feel dumb. He played his game too well for me to see any red flags, that much I’m sure of.
Or at least telling myself that makes it less mortifying.
I’d like to think that anyone would have fallen for the same trick because he’s that good.
My mind replays footage of the past few days with Aiden on repeat, and I almost don’t realize my car has arrived next to me on the curb until the driver rolls down the window and says my name. I give him an apologetic wave before quickly taking one last look around the adorable beach town and getting in the back seat. There’s so much I still want to see here—so much I’d still like to do, but I wouldn’t enjoy any of it like this. As much as I’m not ready to say goodbye to St. Petersburg, Florida, I’m more than ready to go home.
71
Aiden
Heart pounding, I jog up the front steps to the Airbnb and knock on the door. The walk over here gave me plenty of time to think and plenty of time to hope.
I hope I’m wrong about everything.
I hope it’s all a misunderstanding.
I hope Claire is the person I thought she was.
And if she is, I hope she’ll forgive me.
She still hasn’t opened the door, but I didn’t expect anything different. I bang my fist against the rustic wood again. “Claire, we need to talk about this.”
No answer.
My fist pounds harder. “I know you’re pissed. I’m fucking pissed, too. Just hear me out.” After another moment of silence, I lean my head against the door and add, “Please.”
The door swings open, and I scramble to stand up straight, but it’s not Claire who opens it. A short man, probably in his fifties, stands in the doorway with an eyebrow raised. Taking a step back, I look at the house thinking maybe I knocked on the wrong door, but this is it.
“Uh,” I mutter as I try to look around the man blocking my view.
“I’m going to go ahead and assume that the young lady you’re looking for was my last renter.”
Pure panic floods me. “She checked out?”
The man nods, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. “Left the place pretty damn clean, too.”
“Fuck,” I say as I run both hands through my hair. “When?”
Looking me up and down, he takes his sweet time trying to decide if I can be trusted with such information.
“When?” I ask again with a little more urgency.
Letting out a sigh, he says, “Checkout isn’t until 11, but she sent me a message around 8:30 this morning letting me know she locked up.”
I’m already halfway down the steps when I say, “Thanks.” It’s only just after ten, but Claire could be anywhere by now. The good thing is, I know where she’ll end up if she isn’t there already. Opening my phone, I call Ethan and ask for a ride to the train station.
72
Claire
Seeing the platform again brings a swarm of mixed feelings along with it. When we first arrived in Florida, I was broken but new at the same time. Now, I’m just broken. Like a station wagon with too many miles under its hood.
The boots are back. My sandals were easier to fit in my bag, and the less I have to carry, the better. I may be in the same outfit I arrived in, but I look different—even to me. My skin has tanned, and my hair has lightened from the sun. Those changes I like, but I’m also a little more withdrawn, a little less hopeful, and I have this crushing feeling that I’m not going to be as happy as I felt yesterday with Aiden for a very long time.
Which I know is ridiculous.
