Page 114 of Crazy In Love

I was oblivious to the fact that the last time we stood in the bookstore apartment—me in a pretty dress and him in a handsome suit—would be the last time we’d be theretogether.

I had no clue the last meal we shared on his porch would be ourlast. And damn it, I didn’t know the last time—thefirsttime—he would ask me to dance in public, would be theonly.

I hate the things we were robbed of, and I hate even more that he’s as toxically wounded as I am because instead of looking into my eyes and spending my final eighteen hours in Plainviewwithme, he chose avoidance. He stayed inside his house with his drapes closed, and his doors locked, and when Alana invited him to her home for Sunday breakfast before my newly scheduled flight, he chose to decline.

He choseforus.

He chose Rome.

And now my time is up.

I stride through JFK airport at an almost jog, sneakers wrapped around my feet and my carry-on luggage trailing in my wake. I wear headphones in my ears, so my hands remain clear. Making my way toward the luggagecarousel, I search every screen, every line of information, every flight number until I find mine.

“You arrived safely?” Unimpressed and uninterested in hiding the scorn in her voice, Alana bounces her baby to sleep on the other end of the line, patting the squeaking infant, and walking laps of her living room.

Or bedroom.

Or maybe even the dock stretching across the lake outside her house.

I’m not sure where she is, but I picture every detail as easily as if I was right there with her.

Jesus, I never thought I’d see the day when I longed for Plainview.

“Your flight was delayed taking off,” she grumbles. “But you got there pretty quick.”

“Yeah, there was a good tailwind or something.” I pause by carousel number 3 and drag my carry-on to a stop by my thigh, my purse nestled on top and my phone tossed haphazardly inside, and because life enjoys smashing me in the face with lemons, I feel the tug of something sticky on the bottom of my shoe. Frowning, I lean on my carry-on and lift my foot, only to find gum stuck to the sole. A little more, tacked against the floor. “Ew.” Stubbed toes. Spilled coffee. Gum.Great!I dig through my purse in search of a napkin. A wet wipe. Literallyanythingto save me from losing my damn mind.

I’ve returned to the greatest city in the world. This is supposed to be a happy occasion, dammit.

“I stepped in gum,” I grunt, sweeping the contents of my purse from side to side. “Who the hell drops gum inside an airport?”

“Pigs, mostly. Maybe that’s a sign you should come back to Plainview.”

With a victorious explosion of air, I find a single-wipe sachet in the bottom of my bag, so I yank it out and tear the packet open. Then, I balance on one foot and clean up the mess some other jackoff created. “I stepped in gum in Plainview, too, just so we’re on the same page. I’m pretty sure I shattered my little toe on the corner of your dresser. I lost my lucky pen. Oh, and I got my heart broken.” I roll my eyes. “I assure you, this is probably not the sign you think it is. How are things back there?”

“Awful. I used to have this best friend—you might know her—she committed to visiting me for six weeks. But I guess that was a lie.”

“Alana—”

“She said she would run my shop while I recovered from childbirth. Ya know, the life-altering, life-risking situation where a woman brings a whole other human into the world? Yeah. I did that. But then this alleged friend quit.Without warning. Pretty unprofessional, if you ask me.”

“Alana!”

“Plainview is a little less beautiful today. The sky, a little grayer.”

“Good lord, William Shakespeare. Chill out.”

“My son cried himself to sleep last night because he was counting on one last week with his Aunty Fox. That week was callously taken from him.”

“Alana—”

“There are less stars in the sky now. And my husband?” She scoffs. “Girl, my husband hasn’t even had a chance to consummate his marriage.”

“What’s that got to do withme? I wasn’t gonna be in the room with you. Jesus! I’m here to support you, Lana, but there are some lines I’d rather not cross.”Especially when your husband looks exactly like the man who crushed my heart.I peel sticky gum off my shoe, groaning when the mess only seems to grow worse. “You’re making an already stressful situation worse. Friends don’t do that to friends.”

“You didn’t even tell him how you feel! People don’t do that to people they love.”

“He suggested I go to Rome! He didn’tchooseme, Alana. If he wanted me to stay, he could’ve pulled me aside and said something. He didn’t.”