Page 90 of Chasing Sunsets

“No.” My voice is stronger this time. I lift my chin, holding my mother’s gaze. “This is my home now.”

She glances at the RV behind me, her nose wrinkling in distaste. “This?” She exhales sharply, shaking her head. “You’re living in a trailer, Tabitha. This is not a home.”

I feel my fists tighten at my sides. “Maybe not to you. But to me, it is.”

Quenton steps in again, his tone patient, measured. “Tabitha, come on. We can figure this out together.”

I turn to him then, emotions clashing inside me—guilt, anger, exhaustion. “Figure what out, Quenton? There’s nothing to figure out. We”—I gesture between the two of us—“are over. There’s nothing to figure out.”

His jaw tightens. “You left without saying goodbye. Without giving me a chance to understand. Do you know what that felt like?” he whisper-shouts.

I inhale sharply, regret twisting in my chest. I never meant to hurt him. I never wanted to.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, and I truly mean it.

I left a note for my parents, explaining that I needed space and asking them to return the ring, which I placed in an envelope, along with my hastily scribbled letter. I asked them to give the ring to Quenton and to let him know that I was sorry, but I couldn’t go through with the wedding.

His eyes soften, but only for a moment. “Then, come back.”

I shake my head. “I can’t.”

I glance around as several of the guests come out of their campers, curious at the raised voices. When Pete walks out onto the porch of the office, panic begins to rise in my chest. I close my eyes and try to contain my temper. When I open them, I focus on my mother. She’s in an unreasonable state, and if we stay here, I know she will say something insulting or embarrassing.

So, taking into account our audience, I slide my eyes to my father. “Fine. You want to have a conversation. We’ll have a conversation. But not here.”

He nods. “It’s been a long drive. Let’s find a restaurant, and we’ll talk this out.”

My mother starts to protest, but he gives her a stern look.

“Rosemary, sweetheart, I think a decent meal and a glass of wine will help cooler heads prevail.”

She huffs her disapproval, but she doesn’t argue. She simply turns on her Louboutin heels and marches back to the black Lincoln Navigator and climbs inside, slamming the door. Quenton offers his elbow to me, but I turn to lock up the RV before following him. He opens the door for me, and the four of us head into town.

I fish my phone from my bag and text both Eden and Amiya, letting them know that something came up and I won’t bejoining them. The phone rings immediately, and I accept the call and bring the phone to my ear.

“Are you okay?” Amiya asks.

“Yes, I just had some unexpected visitors from back home, and we’re going to dinner.”

“Yeah, Pete and Freda told Eden your guests caused quite a scene and that you seemed upset,” she says.

“I was just surprised to see them. That’s all.”

“Are you sure? Because we’ll come get you if you need backup.”

“That won’t be necessary,” I assure her as Quenton takes my hand into his.

Before I know what he’s doing, he slides the ring onto my finger. I shake my head as I bring my shoulder up to hold the phone and reach to remove it, but he laces his fingers through mine and pulls it away. Frustrated, I concentrate on Amiya’s voice talking in my ear.

“Tabby? You still there?”

“Yes, sorry. I’ve got to go. I’ll text you later.”

“Okay,” she says. “And, Tabby, if you need us, just text me a location pin.”

That makes me smile.

“I will. Bye.”

---