Page 110 of One Last Thing Before You Go

“So, what’s up with this girl? Is she still in that town?”

“No. She’s gone.” I can’t bear to look at my mother, to see the look in her face. So I keep my eyes on my feet.

“And you two…?”

“Are done. She broke up with me.”

“Then she’s an idiot.”

I laugh and shoot her a look.

“What?”

“It’s just, I keep comparing my situation with Lottie to that of yours and Walter’s. The whole unrequited love of it all. So, in a way, you just called yourself an idiot.”

She laughs too. “I feel like we already established that, though. I agreed.”

“True.”

“So what’s next for you?”

“I was planning on taking this assignment. It’s in Kenya—an amazing opportunity to be with the Masai for three months. But.” I sigh.

“But?”

“But I want to learn more about Dad. I want to… I think I want to head over to Scotland. Find his family. Learn more about him. I think I owe it to him and to myself. And it sucks, because I will never get to have a relationship with him, but… This way I can finish getting to know him. I think I need this.”

“I think you need this, too. I think it’s a fantastic idea, hon’.”

“Yeah. It’ll piss off my agent, though. I literally just agreed to this other assignment yesterday.” But I honestly couldn’t care less. It’s time I got to know this mysterious man who’d only revealed himself to me in death. It’s time I dug deeper. For him and for myself.

“Your mental health is more important than any of that, Knox.” And I know she’s right.

“How long would you be gone for?”

“I don’t know, Ma. As long as it takes to get to know him better? To find answers to questions I didn’t even know I had?”

She nods, serious. “I have some money saved up, if you need it. You can⁠—”

“I don’t need anything. I have enough money saved up until the cash from the store and apartment sales come through.”

“But if you⁠—”

I take her hands in mine. “Thank you. I know you’re just trying to make it right—do your part. But this is the part I do need to do by myself.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

LOTTIE

It’s never been more obvious to me—or probably anyone, for that matter—that I’m a transplant. What’s a transplant, you ask? Someone not from New York City who currently lives in New York City. Which is hilarious, because in the 14 or so years I lived here I never once felt like one. Not even during my freshman year at NYU. I would sit on a bench in Washington Square Park surrounded by other students and New Yorkers and never once feel out of place—or look it. So as I do the same right now, as I sit at the very same bench with my good friend—and now business partner—at my side, I wonder when I started feeling this disconnect.

I used to feel like I was born for this city. Like maybe someone made a mistake and the universe somehow dumped me in a small coastal town in Maine on accident. It was the stork’s fault—they were disoriented. Then the devastation I felt when I had to leave the city only seemed to reinforce this idea in my mind that I belonged there. That I craved those special New York moments—you know the ones. That I needed the hustle and bustle of all five boroughs (yes, even Staten Island), each one, special in its own way.

And they are. They are all amazing. But I’m starting to wonder whether I’ve changed too much. Whether I no longer feel the same passion for the industry I used to work in. Whether I’m just… over it. Or if it’s something more. Is it what I’ve left behind that’s making me feel unsettled? Is it Knox? My family? Or is it both?

“So where are we with factories, then?” Madison stabs a big helping of her salad and shoves it in her mouth.

God, I had forgotten all about the damn massive salads for lunch. I hate them.