Page 65 of When I Fall In Love

Minutes later she replies. He’s going to be okay then?

I don’t know. Time will tell.

I wait a moment before I try phoning her again. When she still doesn’t pick up, I send her another message.

Uncle Bill asked for you. I told him you’d come see him tomorrow. I know you were planning to fly back to San Francisco. Can you stay an extra few days? Just until we’ve figured it out? For ages there’s no response, and her silence is driving me nuts. Where are you? What happened? I need to see you, Bee? We need to talk.

At last she types again. I’m with Kyle. We’re in New York between flights. I flew out earlier than planned.

She’s in New York? I swallow a curse. Our time seems to have been brutally cut short but this hits all the same nerves from years ago. Why?

Because I’m an idiot?

This makes me pause. What the hell? An idiot? What happened, Bee?

Her answer comes through after another long pause. I just can’t think beyond getting home to my own space. I need time, Hunter, to think. To see the bigger picture here.

I can give her all the time in the world to think, to be separated, each of us on our own side of the continent. Except I can’t go back to that time. I don’t want to. If anything, this week with her has shown me what I’ve missed out on, what I really want from life, for my future. All roads lead to Beth. So yes, I get that she needs to see the bigger picture, but for me the bigger picture holds only one image—Beth Anderson, back with me where she’s always belonged.

A new line pops up and I read it eagerly.

Honestly. I need time alone to figure out who is manipulating whom here. Right now, I’m not sure if it’s you or Kyle. She’s still typing, but my mind jolts to a stop right there.

Manipulation? That’s never on my radar. What do you mean by manipulation?

The line of dots dances for a long time, as if she’s typing and deleting and typing again.

Is it true that you own the cottage next to your house and opened it up especially for me?

A chill runs down my spine. Such a small, insignificant thing. But it’s always the small pebbles that trigger the landslides. Who told you this?

Kyle had it from Brenda Whitnell. So it’s true?

I hesitate but can’t lie. Yes. Does it bother you?

For a long time there’s no sign of her typing. Such a long time that I almost give up. I can dial but she won’t pick up.

When the next a message comes through, it’s short and sweet.

We’ve boarded for San Francisco. I’ll have to get back to you.

I fold down into my sofa, tossing my phone to the side.

What the actual hell just happened?

33

BETH

Kyle never planned to stay long in Ashleigh Lake. He only has a cabin bag with him, unlike me with my layers of clothes and shoes for every occasion and suitcase full of books. We’re exhausted as we wait for my suitcase at the baggage claim. Just when my body clock had adjusted to those few hours of time difference, I’m back home.

I shoot Kyle a sidewards glance. Once his valiant and knightly extraction of my person from Ashleigh Lake’s clutches has been set in motion—it’s really been a Grand Escape—our conversation dwindled to what was necessary to get me to Burlington and on the next connecting flight. Kyle looks tired, but I already know after he’s dropped me off at home he’ll be heading over to some woman’s apartment.

Unlike me, Kyle didn’t keep his personal conversations private. He made a few calls while we were waiting at the airport; most of them seemed work-related. Once we left Hunter’s little cottage—a place which I loved rather too much—he made it clear that he would rather head back to San Francisco because he had an important lunch meeting the next day that he’d rather attend with his business partner if possible. I just suppressed a groan. Both of us are workaholics and seem willing to do anything to keep our bosses happy.

“That’s yours, right?” Kyle asks as my red suitcase comes along on the conveyor belt.

“Yes.” I reach for it, but he holds me back.

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