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The hustle and bustle of the airport distracts me—streams of people lining up all heading to different destinations. There are plenty of businessmen standing in the first-class line waiting impatiently to be checked in. The economy line is full of families and crying kids, all waiting to continue their journey. It takes longer than expected, and by the time I reach the head of the line, I don’t have as much time as I originally set aside before having to board the flight.
Shit. I don’t know how this happened.
I scheduled everything and allowed for extra time for any incidentals like traffic or queues.
You dropped the ball, Presley. It’s what happens when you’re suffering from a broken heart.
Oh, shut up, brain!
As I walk toward the gate, I see a line has already formed. Just great. I’m not sure if I have enough time to check Masen’s diaper and grab a bag of potato chips. I have barely eaten all day. Scanning the gate area for a spare seat to change Masen, my eyes move toward a man sitting by his lonesome near the entrance. With his head bent down, dressed in a black tux, he nervously plays with his wedding ring.
How odd. As if someone would fly wearing a tux.
It takes a moment for my brain to catch on, but when it does, it’s like a strike of lightning followed by thunder. It hits me all in that one moment—that signature move of running his hands through his hair, rubbing his eyes beneath his thick black frames.
It can’t be.
You’re seeing things.
You’re tired and delusional from the lack of sleep and food. You also possibly need your eyes checked for old age. Yeah, that’s it. Blame it on old age.
Yet I am drawn to this mysterious stranger. His behavior is odd, and I’m surprised that airport security hasn’t detained him for being a suspicious weirdo. Oh God, what if he has a bomb?
I’m walking slowly toward this madman, frightened for Masen’s and my lives. What the hell am I doing. The nervous rush running through my veins is making the blood in my heart pump so hard I’m certain everyone can see.
Then I halt.
A few steps away.
My heart stops, the beats barely existent as I stand on the spot, frozen. The blood drains from my face, and like I’ve seen a ghost, the noises around me fade into the distance. My stomach is nothing but a hollow pit, the walls caving in as the pain eats away at every part of me that has struggled to exist.
All because the man in the black tuxedo is my jerk.
The man who has so carelessly stolen my heart.
I’m walking toward him like a zombie and somehow manage to place Masen’s carrier carefully on the floor beside me. With a dry throat, I’m unable to speak the words sitting on the tip of my tongue. The words that have run circles in my head, begging me to speak them out loud every second since he walked away that night. But my pride steps in and straightening my posture, I try to act calm and cool, not wanting him to see how much he broke me.
“What are you doing here?”
He doesn’t say anything, and the announcement reminding everyone that final boarding is commencing sends everyone around us into a hurried pace. Yet Haden is sitting perfectly still. Head down, staring at the carpet, twisting his shining wedding ring around his finger.
He got married.
You saw the wedding ring.
Run now.
Board that plane and never turn back.
Don’t wait for him to shatter your heart even further if that’s even possible.
“Did you know Britney Spears was married for less than twenty-four hours?” His tone is even, controlled, not a single whisper of any remorse.
Where is he going with this?
“Uh, yes, I did.”
He laughs at himself like it’s a sick and twisted joke, shaking his head as his shoulders slump. “Who would have thought I’d beat that record? Three hours. I mean, who the fuck separates after three hours?”
