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I nodded and brushed the hair away from my face. “Is Bill going to be there?”
She gave me a tight smile, shaking her head. “I invited him, but he said he was going to be busy tonight.” She shrugged, toying with a picture I had taped to the wall. “Did you talk to Professor—”
“No, he left already.” I stood up and grabbed my jacket. “Ready?” I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. I needed to stop thinking about him and this messed-up situation I’d willingly gotten myself into. I needed to move on, to focus, and use this next month to get my head right before I came back to campus with an insanely full schedule and a TA position to worry about.
He didn’t feel as intensely as I did. I had to let him go.
I walked out of my apartment with Jessica but forgot my phone and turned back. I stepped on something, my foot sliding a bit as it dragged a folded piece of paper that I hadn’t noticed before. I picked it up, turning it over in my hand before opening it.
My heart skipped a beat.
“You coming?”
“Yeah,” I breathed, biting down on my lower lip as I fought against a wave of sudden hope. “I’m coming.”
I walked out of the apartment arm in arm with Jessica and felt suddenly lighter than air.
I had hope now. Something had changed.
But the ball was in Rhys’s court, and whatever he wanted to see me for in three days’ time was a mystery to me.
Was it one last goodbye or the start of something?
Chapter 28
Rhys
IF I WERE A SMOKER, now would be the time to burn through a whole pack. I felt like I’d been shot in the chest multiple times but somehow was still able to stand upright. I looked out over the quiet parking lot at Newark Liberty International Airport. My red-eye flight to London would leave in two hours.
I chewed my lip and watched the snow dust over the scattered parked cars. And waited, and waited, and waited.
Another thirty minutes passed before I gave up and turned, pushing off the light pole I’d been leaning against, and walked toward the entrance of the airport’s international terminal. Only a few other people stood outside in the bitter cold, most waiting for taxis or taking long drags from their cigarettes before boarding their flights. With everyone bundled in scarves and hats, it was almost impossible to see their faces. To them, I was just another guy, not a professor at Gatlington. I was just a shadow walking beneath deep yellow streetlights, not a man completely torn to pieces.
By this time tomorrow, I’d be back in Britian on my way to my parents’ house to spend the holidays with my family. It’d been years since I’d been able to be home for Christmas. I should’ve been looking forward to seeing my parents and brothers and eating Mum’s mince pie. I should’ve been looking forward to going to my hometown pub again, calling on my friends from Oxford and preparatory school, and walking the winter markets after church.
But the thought of putting an ocean between me and the one thing I wanted more than anything made me feel like I was being gutted.
The crunching of snow and ice as a taxi pulled up to the curb caught my attention. I turned, a flash of hope the only thing stopping my heart from totally disintegrating in my chest, and then felt the heaviest sense of disappointment I’d ever experienced.
A man stood up from a bench and walked toward the taxi, sliding in, and took off without a word.
More headlights flashed in the distance. People arriving for their late-night flights pulled to the curb in a rush of yellow as taxis stopped and took off again in a rhythmic fashion. Each passing taxi felt like I was being crushed by a sinking, twisting weight.
It was my own damn fault. I’d asked her to come here. I’d left a note under the door at her apartment three days ago before packing up and spending a few days sleeping on the couch in Bill’s loft. I’d known she went to Jersey with Jessica. I didn’t expect her to come. It was too far to expect her to drive just so I could selfishly lay eyes on her again knowing it would be the last time until I returned after the holidays.
And when I returned, things would be different. We’d closed the door on our relationship. We’d both agreed it was for the best.
We were done. Whatever we’d had was over.
It was wrong of me to ask her to come. I didn’t blame her for not showing up. Yet I waited in the cold and snow for a single glimpse of her.
“Fuck,” I hissed under my breath as I pushed through the entrance to airport. I fished for my wallet and passport, dragging my suitcase behind me.
“Rhys!”
I stopped just beyond the door. It slid closed, and through the frosted glass, I could see Whitney standing in front of Jessica’s father’s beat-up station wagon, her face illuminated by the streetlights.
“RHYS!” she called out, my name breaking into pieces in what sounded like a choked sob.
