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“Fine.I’llcome with you to tellDad.”
“You’rethe best brotherI’vegot.”Joeyflipped the television back on.
“Cute.”Wyattstood. “Let’stell him in the morning.”
Joeygave him a sidelong glance. “Whereare you going?”
“I’mnot up to watching the rest of the game.Gonnahead home.”
Wyattwas at the door when he turned, feeling an unfamiliar pang. “Waita sec.”
Joeyreacted quickly toWyatt'sclipped tone. “What?”
“Thatthing you said aboutLily.Yousaid she left.Whatdo you mean,left? “
Pammyset down the knitting needles. “Haslove made you forgetEnglish?”Shewaved her hand with exaggeration. “Itmeans bye bye, sayonara, ciao.”
Itwas like a karate kick toWyatt’sstomach. “She’ssupposed to be here for the whole summer.”
“Iguess something changed.Likethe welcome wagon, for example.Yousaw how people reacted to theInstagrampost.Ifyou ask me, they were ruthless.Personally,I’mashamed of some our community members.”
Wyattwas pacing now. “Areyou absolutely sureLilyleft?”
Pammylooked at her husband, her earlier jest morphing into concern.Hertone turned sober. “Shesent me a message last night that she was going back toNewYork.”
Wyattswallowed hard.
“Youokay,Wy?”
“Shedidn’t even say goodbye.”
Thistime,JoeyandPammykept their thoughts to themselves.Heknew what they were thinking.He’dblown it.Bigtime.Lilywas gone.
Lily.
Theonly woman he truly cared for.Theonly woman he ever imagined a future with.Theonly woman he . . . loved.
ChapterForty-Four
Lilyexited the terminal, theNewYorkheat slapping her in the face.Shewheeled her suitcase past a group of uniformed airport porters taking a smoke, oblivious to the growing line of passengers awaiting help with their baggage.Shefanned away the cigarette smoke and took her place on the passenger pick-up island.
Shecouldn’t wait any longer.Shepulled out her phone and tapped ontoPeter’snumber.
Thecall lasted fifteen minutes,Lilycutting him loose.Shehad expected a drawn-out, difficult conversation but in the end,Petertook it with his characteristic discipline.Histemporary insanity had proven fleeting. “You’redifferent,” he said.
Lilywas taken aback by the observation.Hewas right.Somethinghad shifted in the short time she’d been inColorado. “IsupposeIam.”
WhenPeterheard she was back inNewYork, he sounded relieved. “Isee why people love it out here.It’sbeautiful.MaybesomedayI’llget a place in the mountains, learn a better work-life balance.Butseriously,Imiss my city.”
“Iknow you do.”
Theytook a few minutes to discuss the logistics of going their separate ways.
“Goodluck,Lily,”Petersaid.Itsounded like he meant it.
Atruck idled at the curb, exhaust spewing from its tail pipe.Thedriver was arguing with anNYPDofficer who interrupted him with well-timed blows of her whistle.
Lilyfelt her blood pressure rise with the bombardment to her senses.Thesky was a different color here, she realized, noting she rarely looked up in the city.NewYorkersheads were perpetually facing downward, at their shoes pounding the concrete, or at their phones glued to their palms.Sodifferent fromColoradowhere all she wanted to do was gaze upward.
