Page 16 of Motion to Dismiss

I’m not chasing after her. Ever.

I put on my clothes while she’s in the shower, letting her have the suite until check-out and simultaneously saving us from an awkward conversation that won’t get me what I want.

Well, wanted.

Putting on my shoes, I grab my wallet and circle the living room to make sure I’m not leaving anything behind.

You are. She’s in the shower.

I ignore my thoughts and focus on getting the hell out of here.

Scarlett’s purse is hanging wide open by the door, with her printed flight itinerary peeking out from the pocket.

I snap a picture of her flight code before sliding it back into place.

Then, without wasting another second, I catch the elevator and head for the valet stand downstairs.

While I’m waiting for my car, I look up at the hotel—at the top-floor windows where I had Scarlett exactly where I wanted her hours ago.

Fuck…

Against my better judgment, I take out my phone and type in her flight info. I upgrade her to first class and decide that’ll be the last thing I ever do for her.

NECESSARY INFERENCE (N.):

1) A CONCLUSION MILITATED BY REASON AND LOGIC APPLIED TO KNOWN FACTS. 2) UNAVOIDABLE MEANING.

SCARLETT

Mom

Scarlett, I’m really trying to get in touch.

We HAVE to talk about something urgent.

Where are you?

My stomach tightens as I stroll through Terminal B at LaGuardia Airport.

There’s nothing I’d love more than to call my mother and ask for advice on Jameson, to ask her to come meet me so I can cry on her shoulder before takeoff.

But I still haven’t forgiven her for slapping me, and I’ve long given up on us having a decent relationship.

The quicker I get the hell out of this city and away from everyone who’s ever hurt me here, the better.

I also need to change my phone number at some point.

Dad

I need to talk to you.

I’ll call in thirty minutes, and you’ll answer.

Confirm. Now.

My blood runs cold at my father’s messages.

Out of habit and fear, I begin typing, “Yes. Confirm,” but I suddenly stop. Then I delete the words.