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“You are assuming right.”
There’s a pause, and I imagine all the bits and bytes that make up Mia’s Artificial Intelligence brain filing my attempt at humor away for later use. “Let me know if you need anything before your meeting, Mr. Kane,” she says in a huffy tone. There’s another beep, then silence.
Mia is my latest project, an AI package with limitless applications. I’ve been testing the program’s abilities as a virtual assistant to handle simple things like scheduling, and so far, she has been impressive.
Her personality quirks amuse me, and there’s a tiny smile on my lips when I return my gaze to the museum. The building is polished cream stone, glass panels, and exquisitely carved columns. Even though I live across the country now, I grew up here in this city, and this juxtaposition of lush green park and ancient architecture with modern concrete and glass still feels like home… sometimes.
Anywhere you are… is my home.
Cora’s voice whispers the words as if she’s right beside me…filling me with memories of betrayal and longing.
I curse under my breath.
I have every right to hate her, but even my righteous loathing can’t stop the longing that stabs at my chest whenever I think of her.
Cora. Cora. Cora.
With a sigh, I reach for the door handle and pull.
And then I see her.
Right outside the car.
And just like that, the world stops.
The years disappear, and with a suddenness that leaves me reeling, I’m back in a scene from long ago, face to face with her, the air tense with our shared pain, disappointments, and frustrations. My hand tightens on the door handle. Blood rushes in a forceful roar somewhere close to my ears.
Cora. Cora. Cora.
She’s walking along the sidewalk, wearing a stylish black jacket over a navy-blue dress. Her hips sway gently, and her long legs eat up the distance to the steps. As I watch, a mild breeze catches her hair, rustling the honey-blonde waves, which are shorter than I remember, stopping just past her shoulders instead of hanging to the middle of her back.
My attention rewards me only with a passing glimpse of her face, her wide gray eyes, full lips, and small, stubborn chin. Then she’s facing away from me, dashing up the steps in sensible black pumps.
I’m still watching her, frozen in place by memories and longing. She stops right in front of the glass doors and, as if she heard me or someone else call her name, she turns around and peers up and down the street. Her gaze slides over my car and, with a barely perceptible shrug, she turns back to the entrance and pushes through the doors, disappearing into the building.
Too intent on watching her, absorbing every inch of her, every movement…I hadn’t noticed when my heart stopped. Now, it slams hard into my ribs like a sledgehammer. Releasing my clenched fingers, I feel a tsunami of anger rising in my gut. Anger, longing, and a hunger for revenge.
If you could see inside the car, Cora, would the look in your eyes turn from mild curiosity to horror? Would you run, hide, or shrink from facing me again after what you did?
I glance at my watch again, thinking of my meeting with a renewed vigor. When the chairperson of the board of the Mercer Museum approached me for funding for a refurbishment project, my first thought had been of Cora.
Everything in my life is always carefully thought out, but this, my visit to the museum, my plan to pledge my financial support…I’m not exactly sure how it will resolve my feelings for Cora, but I will re-enter her life as the rich and powerful philanthropist making the refurbishment of her beloved museum possible. I want to make it clear to her, and to myself, how little she means to me now.
I want to show her how inconsequential her betrayal was in the scheme of my life…
… and maybe finally tame the storm of my memories of her.
None of that involves hurrying up the steps after her, but that’s what I do.
I just want to look into her eyes again, to tell her she made an enemy the day she betrayed me.
I want to remind her that I haven’t forgotten…
… or forgiven.
That’s what I tell myself.
I don’t admit, even to myself, that after one glimpse of her, the urge to follow her proves greater than my will, that I can’t resist the primal, undefinable force that pulls me toward her.
