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Chapter 12

Bridget stood at the window for nearly half an hour, watching the people on the street below without ever really seeing them. Her eyes were too full of tears to see much through the watery blur. Finally, she dragged herself to the kitchen table and slumped in the chair.

More horns blared below and she tried to block her ears. The city noise was suddenly deafening and annoying and infuriating.

She’d really let them leave. Let Matt and Mark walk out of her life without telling them what they meant to her. All her reasons for letting them go began to crash in on her until she thought she’d suffocate under the weight.

She hadn’t had a choice. Had she? She thought about Lyle and what they’d shared—friendship, laughter, dreams for the future, finding true love—all those simple joys. She wiped her eyes. Lyle would never experience any of those things again.

She walked to the kitchen counter and retrieved Lyle’s last letter to her. She read the words again, but this time, they took on a different meaning.

Now it’s up to you. Finish the job. Do what I couldn’t.

If Lyle had taught her anything—while they were together or with his untimely death—it was that life was too precious to waste. He wouldn't want her to devote herself to a job she wasn’t passionate about. He wouldn't want her to give up the chance for real, true love.

Suddenly everything became so clear to her. All Lyle had ever wanted was for her to be happy. Didn’t she owe it to him to live her life to the fullest, rather than wallowing in misery and guilt? She wasn’t the same woman she’d been a year ago. She couldn’t go back to the life she’d known when Lyle had been alive even if she tried. Life was a series of steps, of moving forward. Staying in New York would be like standing still.

She had no idea where her life was leading her, but every fiber of her being said she’d never know true happiness if she didn’t take a chance at making a future with Matt and Mark. In Saratoga.

Her tears dried up and she smiled at what she was contemplating. Holy crap. Was she seriously going to move to a horse ranch all the way across the country with not one, but two cowboys? She giggled, the sound echoing in the empty room. Yep. She sure as hell was.

Her cell phone rang and she raced to retrieve it from her coat pocket, praying it was Matt or Mark. An envelope fell out and landed on the floor as she grabbed the phone.

Her heart fell when she saw her editor’s number. She sighed. “Hello.”

“Hey, Bridget. How’s my favorite reporter? I was wondering if you’d had a chance to start working on your article about the trial. We were hoping to get it on tomorrow’s front page.”

The old Bridget, the one her editor knew, would have stayed up all night writing the story. Instead, she’d spent the evening wrapped up in the embraces of the two cowboys who’d changed her life. Bending down, she picked up the unfamiliar envelope.

“Um, I haven’t had a chance to start on it.”

There was silence on the other end for a moment. She’d shocked him.

“Oh, I see,” he replied.

Opening the envelope, she spotted a plane ticket. Her ticket to Saratoga. Mark had said they’d bought one for her. Her hands began to shake as she realized what she held.

“Truth is,” she began, “I think I’m going to have to pass on the article. And the promotion. And, well, my old job too. I’m quitting it all.”

She wasn’t sure where the words were coming from, but the moment she began speaking them, they came faster, grew stronger. She had a ticket. She was going to use it.

“I don’t understand,” her editor said.

“I’m quitting. I’ll email you my resignation later, but for right now, I have a flight to catch.”

She hung up the phone without waiting for a good-bye. Reaching for a tissue, she blew her nose and cursed herself for being all kinds of a fool. How could she have let them leave without her?

Rushing to her room, she began throwing things in a bag as she called for a taxi. She was going to be on that plane. She had to be.

Bridget ran through the terminal, glancing at the clock. She was an OCD flyer by nature, always at the airport hours before departure. She currently had three minutes to reach her gate or the flight was going to take off without her. If she’d had a brain in her head, she would have planned this whole thing better. Arranged for a later flight. Packed up her apartment. Given notice to her landlord. Hired a moving company. Told her parents she was moving west.

Christ. Here she was running through JFK like a lunatic, trying to catch a plane when the fact was she was just going to have to turn around and come back to New York later to clean up all the messes she’d left behind.

She grinned. She didn’t give a fuck. This was fun. She was dashing headfirst into her future, leaving the old Bridget behind.

She rushed up to the desk and flashed her ticket to the airline attendant. Everyone else was already on the plane. She couldn’t wait to see Matt and Mark’s faces when she boarded.

She giggled as she stepped on to the plane—giddy with anticipation. The flight attendant gave her a funny look, then smiled. Apparently uncontrollable happiness was contagious.