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This was the final fracture in our cracked relationship, the hit that shattered the glass. I twisted the wedding ring off my finger and threw it out the window.
“Tell Grant I said, fuck him,” I looked into her eyes. “And fuck you, too.” I left the house without looking over my shoulder, without ever wanting to return.
“Please take me to the airport, Mr. Truman,” I said, the moment I returned to the town car. “Please.”
He nodded and opened the back door for me. His eyes met mine in the rearview mirror and he gave me a look of sympathy.
I had no idea where I was going, what my next move was going to be, but I knew I was done being a Kensington. When we made it to the airport, Mr. Truman—understanding that he’d never see me again, gave me a hug and handed me a few hundred dollar bills.
I tried to give them back, but he refused and drove away.
“How may I help you, Miss?” The agent smiled as I approached the outdoor ticket counter.
“I need to buy a plane ticket to—” I paused. “Where’s the next flight going?”
“Miss, there are hundreds of flights every day.” She tilted her head to the side. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah.” I shrugged, holding back tears as I pulled out my credit card. “How about Atlanta? The next flight there.”
“Okay.” She tapped a few keys and swiped my card. “Um, do you have another credit card? This one is declined.”
“That’s impossible.” I shook my head. “Can you run it again?”
She did. Declined.
“One more time, please?”
Declined.
“Maybe you should call your bank,” she said, handing it to me. “Next in line, please!”
I stepped to the side and logged into my bank account—feeling my jaw drop as I saw the numbers.
Zero. Zero. Zero …
I leaned against the wall and took several deep breaths.
This can’t be happening…
My phone buzzed with a call from an unknown number.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Kate, it’s me.”
“Sarah Kay?”
“I can’t talk long.” Her voice was soft. “Mom just told Dad how you slapped her before walking out of the dinner hall, and she’s officially done with you. She’s in her office cutting off as many ties to you as possible.”
“That’s not what happened.” Tears pricked my eyes. “Please don’t tell me that you’re calling to say goodbye.”
“Never,” she said, her voice hoarse. “I was calling to buy you a plane ticket and a hotel room for a little while. Let me know where you’re trying to go, and I’ll get it right now. What city?”
“Los Angeles.”
“No, that’s too close.”
“New York?”
“Too far.”
“Phoenix?”
“Yes, that’s a good idea…” She paused. “I think there’s a Four Seasons there, too.”
“It doesn’t have to be a five-star hotel.”
“Of course, it does.” There was a smile in her voice. “Wouldn’t want you to hit rock bottom in one day. At least give it a week.”
I laughed through my tears, and within minutes, she sent me a text with confirmation numbers.
“You promise this isn’t goodbye?” I asked. “That you’re not writing me off, too?”
“I promise, Kate.” She sounded sincere. “You’re the only person in this family I actually love. Talk later.”
Tears fell down my face as I made it through security, as I realized that my life was forever changed. I had to start anew without my family’s last name, without James.
Hours later, I settled in my seat as the plane ascended toward the sky. Ignoring the tears streaming down my cheeks, I looked down at Lake Tahoe and vowed to never come back. I vowed to start my life over and to never, ever wait on another man again.
(So) Can we forgive each other?
James
“I REALIZED THAT MY life was forever changed. I had to start anew without my family’s last name, without you.”
I reread the section about her parents, about Grant putting his hands on her, and felt an unbearable ache in my chest. Waves of guilt washed over me, damn near drowning me for never giving her a chance to tell me her story while she was here.
She did wait for me.
I picked up my phone and called the company’s lead driver.
“Yes, Mr. Holmes?” he answered on the first ring.
“What time did you take Miss Kennedy to the airport today?”
“I didn’t. She refused my services, sir.” He paused. “I did make sure to upgrade her ticket to first class as you requested.”
“Has her flight landed in New York yet?”
“No, sir. She’ll arrive in Atlanta within the next three hours, and she’ll have a four-hour layover before her flight to New York.”
“Thank you.” I ended the call and immediately called my pilot.
Or Is This Really Over?
I WAS WILLING TO GIVE New York City a second chance, an encore by default. It was on the East Coast—far away from James, and one of my old coworkers had referred me to Spotify.
I didn’t even have to attend an interview. They hired me on the phone within fifteen minutes, and I was now looking up temporary rentals as I waited for my flight.
