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“Jesus, Pres. So he’s not really an astronaut?”
“A philanthropist. He’s leaving for the Peace Corps. I found his plane tickets and itinerary, but he didn’t tell me he’d decided to go still.” I sighed, slumping over the table. “I don’t know. I’ve got to figure it out today.”
“I shouldn’t be rooting for him to go, right?”
I laughed. “Trust me—if you saw him, you’d be rooting for him to stay too.”
“That good?”
“Just as good as a shirtless Jake, but way less broody.”
“Oughta make your life easier.”
“If only.”
A sad chuckle. “Well, you go talk to everyone and call me, okay? All I want in the whole world is for you to be happy, and if I can help you catch the stars you’ve wished on, I’ll do it. Anything you need. Okay?”
“Okay,” I said, choked up. “I love you, you know that?”
“I suspected.”
“And I miss you.”
“Maravillo is boring as all hell without you. Who am I supposed to sing karaoke with, Buffalo Joe?”
“If you ever heard that hairy bastard sing, you’d take that back.”
Her laughter died down after a minute.
With a smile on my face and my heart in a vise, I said, “Thank you isn’t enough. I’m humbled and so grateful to have a friend like you.”
“Ditto, Pres.” She was choked up too. “I’m here, okay? Call me.”
“I will.”
We said our goodbyes, and I hung up my phone. The second it disconnected, it started to play music again like nothing had happened. Like I hadn’t just been offered everything I wanted.
All I had to do was walk away from this place.
Only I didn’t know how.
He’s leaving. He’s leaving. He’s leaving you, and then what will you have?
I left everything on the table and hurried out of the shed in search of my cousins. I found them sitting around the table in the kitchen eating chips and salsa and drinking coffee.
Texans.
They paused when I walked in, their faces bending in worry.
“What’s the matter?” Poppy asked.
“I was just offered a job in Maravillo making branded goods for my friend’s farm. They have a house for us to live in, a salary and I … I don’t know what to do.”
“What about Sebastian?” Daisy asked.
“I found his plane tickets to Zambia yesterday.” My breath hitched—instantly tears stung my eyes. I clapped my hand over my mouth as my cousins popped out of their seats and swarmed me.
“I’m so sorry,” Daisy said.
“I can’t believe it,” Poppy breathed.
“I fucking knew it,” Jo spat. “Ow!” she squeaked when Poppy kicked her. “What? Are any of you really surprised?”
“God, Jo. Maybe think before opening your mouth,” Poppy shot.
I shook my head and straightened up, signaling them to let me go. “It’s okay. I knew what I was in for. I mean, it’s possible I misunderstood, but there were all these letters and pictures of little kids and the tickets and an itinerary and … why would he have those if he wasn’t planning to go? His passport was on top. I just … what am I supposed to think? And how can I even be upset about it? What he’s doing is so much more important than me, but I … I just …” I didn’t even know what to say. I sighed instead in an attempt to steady myself.
All three of them wore looks of pity that multiplied my misery exponentially.
Jo and Poppy then shared a look.
“What?” I asked, waving my index finger between them. “What was that?”
“It was probably nothing,” Poppy hedged.
Jo rolled her eyes. “They wouldn’t let me tell you, but we were in town the other day and Buchanan was talking to Sebastian, asking him about his trip, when he was leaving, that kind of thing. And … well, it didn’t sound like he had any question in his mind about going. Brian was asking him if he was looking forward to it, and Sebastian went on about it.”
“I really hoped he’d already told you. That you guys had come to an agreement,” Daisy said. “I’m so sorry, Pres. Please, please don’t cry.”
Before I knew it, I was enveloped in another hug, tight enough to keep me standing.
He was leaving. And he would have told me sooner if I hadn’t pressured him to take time with it.
“I’m gonna kill him,” Jo snapped. “Or at least burn his house down. The way he strung you on. He never even fought for you, did he? That coward. It’s real easy to be charming in three-month spurts, but then boom—he’s gone. And then there’s Cilla.”
“Oh God,” Daisy whispered. “Cilla.”
“She’s gonna lose her daddy,” Poppy started, her voice wobbling.
I was crying too hard to speak or think or be rational or reasonable. All I could do was feel, and I felt everything.
I shouldn’t have let this happen. I knew better than to let myself pretend, but I lost myself in the indulgence anyway.
