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For a few moments, my gaze lingers on her bedroom door. Then, I silently tell her goodbye and gather my bags to meet my driver out front. As I walk down the steps, a final thought occurs to me that perhaps she’s not even here and left before I woke up.
If that’s the case, where did she go? And why isn’t she back yet?
I pause next to the idling vehicle, handing my luggage over to the driver. “Just a moment, please.”
He nods before carrying my things to the trunk.
There’s a small female figure crouched in front of the house next door. She’s pulling weeds and pruning dead flowers, with a wide-brimmed straw hat covering her head.I recognize that hat.Making a brief detour, I cross the yard to speak to her.
My mouth has suddenly gone dry, so I lick my lips and call her name. “Rose.”
She cranes her neck, shielding her eyes with a gloved hand. But when she sees it’s me, she scowls and returns to her gardening. “Yes, Mr. Fancy Writer Man? What can I do for you on this fine morning?”
Wow, I really should’ve tried harder to make nice with her.
“Just wondering if you’ve seen Teddie. Did she leave early to run an errand or something? I haven’t seen her at all today.”
Or yesterday, after she left my bed,I mentally add.
Rose barks out a sharp laugh, then gets to her feet with a grunt. “I highly doubt that girl has been anywhere yet.” She plants a fist on one hip. “I saw her kitchen light on in the wee hours of the morning when I got up to get a drink of water. She probably pulled an all-nighter—Lord knows doing what—and she’s sleeping in.” Rose narrows her eyes at me, and before I know it, freshly sharpened garden shears are pointing in my direction. “Now, tell me something. Why was Teddie up so late last night?”
How the hell should I know? She wasn’t even speaking to me.I open my mouth, then snap it shut, realizing I don’t have an answer.
Rose starts to say something else, but a loud honk says my driver is ready to leave. “I don’t know what she was doing last night, but can you check on her later, please? I’m sure she’ll be exhausted and need some help today.”
“I always do. It’s my job to look after her.” With a swift nod of her head, Rose goes back to her gardening. Somehow, I got off on the wrong foot with that woman and I wish I had more time to fix it.
I wish I had more time to fix a lot of things.
Without any parting words, I walk away and climb into the waiting vehicle. After buckling my seat belt, I finally acknowledge the same driver who dropped me off a month ago. He did warn me he was the only ride-share on the island.
“Ho-ho!” he says in his best Santa Claus impression. “Hello again, sir! It’s been a while!”
I wish I could share his gleefulness, but I’m sure by now he realizes that I’m a grumpy ass.
Christmas music fills the car as we pull away from the house. I watch it grow smaller from over my shoulder as we cruise down the residential street. I’m still expecting Teddie to race out the front door, laughing about how she forgot to set her alarm this morning. Because, of course, she would never miss seeing me off, even if our last day together didn’t pan out the way we wanted. But she never appears and I swallow a hard lump, facing forward in my seat when the house is finally out of view.
* * *
“Did you have a good trip?Most folks who visit can’t wait to come back!”Santasmiles in the rearview mirror.
I slump down and cross my arms. “Yeah, well, I’m not most folks. I probably won’t ever come back to Florida again.”
The man hums. “You never know. The future can surprise you.”
I scoff at his optimism. “What do you mean by that?”
He just shrugs and smiles mysteriously, turning up the music to end my questions.
The short ride is one big blur, and before I know what’s happening, my car door is opened. After thanking the jolliest Uber driver south of the North Pole, I retrieve my luggage from the curb and head inside the airport.
My mind is fuzzy, clouded with a million thoughts, as I speed through security and wait at my gate. Deciding to bite the bullet, I email my manuscript to my publisher, knowing it’s unfinished but hoping to buy some time. Surely, I can crank out two or three more chapters to end this damn book?
That’s a lot of words to come up with when you don’t have your muse.
I try to push the sabotaging thoughts out of my head as I board my plane. For once, I’m glad there’s a crying baby on my flight to drown out the traitorous voices I wish didn’t exist in my subconscious. By the time the plane lands, I’m tired and irritated and completely spent, almost crying with relief when I arrive at my front door.
But that relief is shot to shit when I spot Peter sitting in my office with his feet propped on my expensive desk. “Welcome home, Natey boy!” he cheerfully exclaims with open arms.
