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It’s over. She doesn’t feel the same way I do. We have different dreams and goals.
It’s over. She may as well have reached inside my chest and pulled my heart out with her bare hands. I love Wren, but I need to get away. I need distance so I can deal. She’s going to be okay, but I’m not sure I ever will be.
Her body. Her choice. And she’s made it clear that her choice isn’t me.
I start to pack my things up. Alex gives me a funny look as I pull my suitcase from under the bus and start to haphazardly throw things into it.
The door on the bus opens. “Mick!” Wren calls.
I don’t answer. I can’t. I can’t even look her in the face right now. I just can’t. “What?” I finally ask when she calls my name again.
She stops short when she sees the suitcase. “What are you doing?”
“Packing.”
“Why?”
I run a hand through my hair. “I think I’m going to the airport and am just going to fly back. I need to get back to work.”
“Did your work call you or something?”
“No, I just need to get back.”
“We can fly together,” she says. She bounces from foot to foot.
“Sure,” I say.
She glances toward the front of the bus, her mouth open to say something, but then she closes it, takes a breath and says, “I’ll pack my things.”
“Okay.” I zip my bag. I’m packed.
“Alex can make arrangements for the bus.”
“Okay.” I go to the front of the bus to wait. Alex goes out the door.
“Mick,” she calls out.
I turn back and lift my eyebrows at her.
“Did I do something wrong?” she asks quietly.
“No,” I say. And to be honest, she didn’t. She did what was right for her. It just wasn’t what was right for us. “Of course not.”
“Okay,” she says. She packs really quickly. We take a taxi to the airport and we get tickets. I pay for mine, and she pays for hers and Mel’s. Alex is staying with the bus. We sit in first class, because that’s how she rolls. She has to sign a few autographs for some of the staff, and even the pilot comes out to talk to her.
But through it all, we don’t speak. A few times, she opens her mouth to say something. I can see it hanging there in the air between us. But then she glances toward the seat in front of us where Mel is sitting and closes her mouth.
From the airport, I have the taxi go to her apartment first.
She gets out, and I get out with her. I feel like it’s my duty. “Do you want to come up?” she asks. She eyes my luggage, which I didn’t take out of the trunk. “Mick…” she says, her gaze troubled.
I run a hand through my hair and look everywhere but at her. “I had better not. I have to work tomorrow. Need to get some sleep.”
“You could sleep here.”
“I had better not.”
“Oh.” She scuffs the toe of her shoe on the sidewalk, and the doorman comes out to help with her bag. Mel goes inside with the doorman.
