AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I take a step away under my own accord. “Texas?”
“Yes.”
“Wait, what? Are you . . .” Of all the ways I thought this conversation would go, this was not it. I knew—thought—that Sara wouldn’t want to go too far from Zoe, that we’d talk it over and figure out logistics, and now she says she’s going even farther away? And that she’s leaving me? “Hang on, hang on, I’m suggesting that we just—” I gesture with my hands like I’m scooping something up. “—pick up our life here together and move it to London.”
“No, you’re not.”
“How is London different?” I am genuinely confused.
Sara mimics my gesture. “You’re picking us up and putting us in Verduistering.”
“I’m Verduistering, not you.”
Sara huffs out a breath, frustrated. “Come on, Chris, can you seriously imagine that the lines aren’t going to bleed over? This weekend was a disaster.”
“Your daughter ate some pot. I would hardly call that a disaster.”
Sara’s eyes narrow. “I know that it doesn’t stop at pot, Chris.”
“I don’t do hard drugs.”
“Can you swear to me, with one hundred percent certainty, that there won’t be hard drugs around? That the next time my daughter comes to visit in London, she won’t see people do coke or get offered ecstasy?”
“She’s an adult—”
“And what about me?Idon’t want to be around that kind of lifestyle.”
All of the joy and giddiness from before washes out from me, leaving nothing but a hollow pit. Sara’s words are final and firm.
“What do you want me to do?” I ask. “How can I make this right?”
Sara’s face softens, her voice gentles. “I’m not asking you to do anything. There’s nothing to make right.” She walks to the door of my studio, stopping and glancing over her shoulder. “I’ll pack up today, and then I have a flight tomorrow afternoon unless you need me to be out sooner?”
I swallow, shaking my head. Sara’s gaze dips down to my throat and then to the floor. She leaves without a word.
My back hits the wall, and I slide down, letting my head hang between my shoulders and my elbows rest on my knees.
Weeks ago, I told Alwin that we were too dissimilar, Sara and I. Hell, months ago, when she first moved in, I told myself that time and time again. What was I doing falling in love with someone like her?
I sit long enough for my ass to fall asleep. I shift every so often and wince at the discomfort, but I don’t care enough to do anything about it.
Eventually, I hear Sara in the kitchen. The clanging of pots and pans, the water turning on and off. The usual humming is absent. A glance at the clock shows that it’s too early for dinner, even for her.
This is her last night here. No more of these shared meals or yoga sessions together or watching her love for her friends, for her daughter. No more hot tubs, yoga pants, or sports bras. I’m giving Sara up for a life of groupies and stardom.
It makes me so fucking angry. Not at Sara, but at life in general. For a brief flash, I had everything I could have ever wanted, and it’s being taken away. I’ve struggled for years to get exactly where I am now, and I grasped, for a moment, something I never thought I’d have.
The anger motivates me to get up.
I stalk into the kitchen. Sara stands at the stove, stirring a pot. It smells wonderful because, of course, it does; it’s Sara’s fucking cooking. She’s stripped off the sweatshirt, so she’s back to yoga pants and a sports bra in the heat of the kitchen.
It’s the pink one.
She catches sight of me and glances up. I glare at her from the other side of the counter, my palms on the cool marble and my body coiled tight.
“Oh, hey. I, uhh . . .” She points back at the fridge. “I thought I’d cook up all this stuff and make you some meals since I won’t be taking this food with me. Although, I don’t know how long you’ll be here . . .”
Her words trail off as I shove off the counter and stalk around to her.
