I shrugged. “It’s going. Could be better. Could be worse.”
“You always say that.”
“It’s always true.”
Katie smiled, set her drink down, and leaned forward conspiratorially. “What’s it about?”
I chuckled. She always wanted to know what the upcoming stories were about that I was working on. “If I tell you…”
“I won’t tell a soul. Not even Peter. Pinky promise.”
“Fine,” I agreed. “It’s about a young woman, close to your age, who gives up the only man she ever loved for her dream job. She lives the life she always dreamed and wanted. She gets the promotions. The raises. The house. The family. The expensive SUV. All of it. But she’s never happy because of what she gave up to get it all.”
Katie’s brows drew together. “That doesn’t sound like a very good love story.”
I laughed and shook my head.
“Was that rude of me?” she asked, blushing.
“Not at all. I’m not going to give anything away because I always appreciate your feedback after you finish reading one of my books, but let’s just say I play a little bit with timelines in this one.”
“Consider me intrigued.”
“Tell me about this Peter of yours. Are you two still blissfully happy?”
Katie couldn’t hide her smile. She twisted in her stool and took a couple sips of her drink before answering. “He renovated his entire house for me to move in with him. We’ve been working on expansions together and rebuilding the porch. It’s all so good that sometimes I catch myself wondering if I deserve it. You know?”
“You deserve it.”
“Thanks. For the record, so do you.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”
Katie slid off her stool and took her drink with her. “It’s possible to find the kind of love you write about out in the real world, Wes. You just have to be out in the real world to find it. Not in a hotel room.” She winked, slung her bag over her shoulder, and asked the bartender to make me another drink—on her. “Have a good night, Wes.”
I watched her go. “Yeah, you too.”
Chapter 3
Briar
My luggage was in pretty rough shape. The integrity of the bag had long since been compromised, but I wasn’t in a position to go out and pay a bunch of money for a new set, so I’d resigned myself to being the girl boarding the plane in her sweats, hoodie, and a duffel bag as her carry-on. With any luck, the check-in counter wouldn’t criticize me for toting apocalyptic suitcases through the airport and putting more faith in the zippers than they deserved.
The three suitcases sat at the front door of the apartment while I sat in the egg chair one last time before my entire life changed.
Madison and Riley had been at work all afternoon but had promised they would leave on time in order to drive me to the airport. Riley was the only one with a car in the house. At first, I’d suggested I just take a cab. The airport wasn’t easy to get to, and I felt bad making them go out of their way, but my besties insisted on doing this right and driving me themselves.
I appreciated it.
Leaving Waynesville without a proper goodbye at the airport wouldn’t have felt right. I needed closure from this place. I needed a hug and maybe some tears and well wishes, after which I could get on the plane and look out the window as it crept into the sky and feel like I left on good terms.
If my parents were in town, I’d have asked them to drive me. But they were in the south of France sipping wine they probably crushed in barrels with their bare feet.
“Lucky retirees,” I muttered.
Riley and Madison were twenty-five minutes later than they said they’d be. I’d been watching the minutes tick by while the pit of nerves in my stomach grew tighter and tighter. I didn’t want to miss my flight. I hadn’t purchased cancellation insurance and I wouldn’t be able to afford a new ticket.
“Where the hell are you guys?” I grumbled.
Another ten minutes passed and I bid farewell to the apartment that had been my home for two years. I locked up and struggled down the stairs of the older building with my three suitcases and duffel bag slung over my shoulder. Every piece of clothing I owned was packed away in those bags. I’d left my furniture behind so the girls could use my old bedroom as a guest room for now. Once I had my shit together in New York, I’d pay a moving service to go back into the apartment, collect my things, and drive them to the Big Apple.
There was no telling how long that would take.
I’d given myself a year. If I couldn’t make it in a year, then I didn’t have any right to dream so big and live in a place like New York. I’d come back to Waynesville and settle down with a mechanic or a farmer’s son or some shit. At least I wouldn’t ever wonder what might have been.
At least I’d have done the damn thing. Failure or not.
I nearly lost the wheel off the bottom of my medium-sized suitcase as it bounded down the steps behind me. By the time I reached the first floor, I was huffing and puffing, sweaty, and in an even fouler mood than I’d been when I was upstairs. I dragged the bags out the front door, which I propped open with one hip, and when I spilled out onto the sidewalk, a car horn beeped at me.
I looked up through a curtain of my red hair that had fallen loose of its bun and spied Riley’s red Volkswagen Jetta pulling up to the curb. She rolled down her window and waved for me to put my bags in the trunk.
Madison got out and helped and complained about how heavy my shit was. We managed to get it crammed in the trunk, and once we were back in the car, Riley pulled back out into traffic and headed for the airport.
“Sorry we were late, babe,” Riley said as she glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “Our manager was in a fucking mood and we had to fold tables before our shift ended.”
I pretended I wasn’t annoyed and rubbed my sweaty palms on my sweatpants.
Madison twisted around in the passenger seat and looked at my outfit. “Is that what you’re wearing on the plane?”
“Yes.”
Her nose scrunched up like it did whenever she drank beer and pretended to like the taste in front of cute boys. “Oh. You know sometimes they’ll bump people up to first class if they have open seats. That’s why I always dress nice. You never know who you might end up sitting next to.”
“With my luck, I’ll end up between a crying baby and someone with bad body odor,” I said.
Madison snickered. “Dressed like that? You just might.”
I rolled my eyes and looked out the window. Forgive me for not wanting to wear leather leggings and a bodysuit on an airplane, Madison. Fuck.
Comfort was my middle name. Fuck heels, heavy earrings, handbags with no straps, bras with underwire, and anything that caused me any level of discomfort or irritability. Life was too short for that shit and I didn’t have the patience to endure it all for the name of beauty.
Dying my hair red had been the boldest statement I’d made about myself in years. Up until now, I liked to blend in.
I doubted blending in would get me anywhere in the big city, though. It was time for big changes, leaps, strides, purposeful actions.