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My general principle in life is simple. Everyone leaves. Only those who have something to truly offer, something too tempting to let go of, manage to hold onto those they love. I’ve seen a few elderly couples in town, witnessed a handful of happy marriages between friends and family. Sometimes, a quality worth staying for is enough to break the natural trend of leaving.
But I’ve had enough people walk away, die, or slowly forget who I am to know my limits. I’m not the sort that others stick around for.
Especially for a woman like Lizzie. Especially when she’s only here long enough for her grief to subside and a yearning for her home to return.
I know that Lizzie thinks she can build a home here in East River, but that video call yesterday with her friends has only reinforced the fact that she already has a home. She already has people who love her. Back in New York.
And given the misty eyes she’d sported afterward, I’d say she’s starting to remember that.
Which means that Lizzie will be heading back soon.
And I’ll be left here. Broken heart and all.
My knuckles pale as I take the wheel in a death grip.
The fact that this is exactly what I had wanted to avoid is just adding salt to the wound. It’s too late to warn myself that emotion doesn't follow a plan.
When Lizzie leaves, it’s going to gut me whether I give my heart permission to feel that way or not.
Then again. “Lizzie??”
“Hmm?”
I swallow, readjust my hold on the wheel and glance her way as we head through town toward the Jessop house.
“About this whole… thing.”
“Thing?” Her eyes are warm. I know she’s laughing at me just a little, even as the lines around her mouth tell me she can hear the seriousness in my tone.
“You know what I mean.”
“I do.” she nods.
I swallow. Inhale. Exhale. I can feel the tension in one side of my neck and the urge to crack it.
“About our arrangement being as… casual… as it is.”
“What about it?”
Dammit, but her tone is giving nothing away. And I can’t look at her face properly right now. Why on earth had I decided to start this conversation while driving?
“Wait, maybe we should pull over so I can—”
“Oh my God!” she suddenly yells.
I nearly jerk the truck off the road before I get my surprise under control.
“What the?”
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. Quick, quick!” Lizzie’s bouncing in her seat like a schoolgirl and slapping me on the leg but I have no idea what’s gotten into her.
And then I see it.
On the road outside her place is a luxury sedan. Rental plates on the back identify it as an out-of-towner but just the expense of the car would do that. There wasn’t a vehicle younger than ten years old in East River and definitely no Audis.
The man standing beside the car is looking up at Lizzie’s new home, a piece of paper in his hand like he’s checking the address.
Just who the hell is this?
