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Millions of people call Manhattan home, but the degrees of separation are minuscule.
Earl let me have it. He won’t work with a liar, he said.
I don’t blame him.
Finn Remsen will be celebrating tonight.
I glance at my phone when it starts to ring again.
Maren might think the third times the charm, but I silence it the same way I did the last two times she’s called.
I haven’t read any of her text messages either because what the fuck am I supposed to say?
Who is the guy in the suit you met up with today?
She sent me a text ten minutes before I spotted her at the diner.
I don’t need to reread that text message. I saved it to heart.
Maren: I’ll be on my way soon. I can’t wait for tonight. It feels like the start of something amazing for us.
Us.
I hate that fucking word.
I finish what’s left in my glass and tap the top of the bar to gain the server’s attention.
She walks toward me with a grin on her face. “Do you want another?”
I nod.
“I’m Kendall.” She leans an elbow on the bar. “What’s your name?”
She’s pretty. At one point in the past, I would have already asked her to meet up with me after her shift.
The problem is that she’s not Maren.
I push back from the bar. “I changed my mind.”
Tugging a few bills from the front pocket of my jeans, I toss them on the bar.
“Thanks,” she says brightly. “I hope to see you again soon.”
She won’t.
I’m not traveling down that same fucked-up path I did before. I’m going home to bed. I’ll sleep this off, and tomorrow I’ll figure out what comes next.
Stepping onto the sidewalk outside the bar, I’m met with a gust of wind.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. I need to look at the fucking thing if I’m going to get an Uber, so I tug it out.
A text message from Maren greets me.
Maren: I’m scared. Please tell me you’re okay. Please, Keats.
I type back a response. It’s all I can manage because the screen is so fucking blurry.
Keats: I need time.
I press send, order an Uber, and silence my phone.Chapter 55Maren“This isn’t the same as what happened with Kollin.” Bianca reaches for my hand. “It’s not, Maren.”
When she texted me this morning to find out how dinner went last night, I sent her a simple reply: I need you.
She rushed over here.
She didn’t time her arrival, but it happened minutes after Arietta left to take Dudley to doggy daycare on her way to work.
Arietta is the one who sat by my side last night. She could tell something was wrong when I was sitting on the couch in my sweatpants crying when she got home from work.
I have no idea what went so wrong.
When I got to Keats’s townhouse after meeting with Royce, he wasn’t home.
I banged on the door to try and rouse him because I thought he might have drifted off.
Neither of us has gotten much sleep recently.
When he didn’t answer, I called him.
I left a message and then another.
I finally left the steps of his townhouse with one last look at the locked door.
On my way home, the caterer I had hired called to confirm that the event was canceled.
Athena sent me a text thanking Keats and me for donating the bouquet to one of the nursing homes in the city. She noted that she was breaking it up into smaller bouquets so everyone would have a bit of sunshine to brighten their day.
Keats canceled our dinner with the Newmans without a word to me.
Arietta assured me that it was likely because Fletcher chose Finn over him.
That might be true, but why would Keats not tell me that? Why is he still avoiding me?
I glance down at the only text he sent to me.
Keats: I need time.
I turn my phone’s screen to show Bianca the text message.
Her eyes close. “Fuck.”
My eyes tear. “It’s the same.”
“No,” she insists. “This is not the same.”
It’s close enough.
“I need to go away.”
My instinct to hide from the world kicked in almost immediately. I’ve learned that pain follows you everywhere you go, but it’s easier to deal with when you’re not in the same city as the person who broke your heart.
“I’ll go with you,” she offers. “I can rent a car. I remember how to get there.”
Bianca put her life on hold to go to the Adirondack Mountains with me just days after Kollin dumped me. We stayed at my parents’ remote cabin near Tupper Lake. We hiked, we fished, we swam in the water, and I healed.
“I want to go alone.”
Her head shakes. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Maren. If you want my advice, I think you should talk to Keats first. How do you know this isn’t how he processes losing a potential client? Maybe he’s sulking.”
