Page 65 of The Ex Effect
Thank God the security lines weren’t terrible, but my forehead beading with sweat probably put me on the TSA daily watchlist. Five minutes left until boarding, and I ran like I’d never run before, nearly plowing into a toddler who rushed into my line of fire. “Sorry, sorry,” I said to the mom, who whipped me a hell of a death stare.
My heartbeat pulsed in my veins. The air in my lungs was almost gone, but who needed air? Who need anything? I had love, for God’s sake!
I weaved through people lugging suitcases and strollers and saw Frankie’s gate. Finally! Breathless, my eyes scanned the area. The chairs were almost vacant minus a few stragglers, but the line of people holding their boarding tickets was long. Hope burst from my chest. Frankie didn’t board yet. I wassureof it. The stars aligned, the universe was playing a fate game, the lesbian gods were smiling upon us. I stopped to catch my breath, my body tingling, on fire, and filled with so much joy I could scream.Where is she?Maybe the bathroom or grabbing a quick snack?
As the minutes ticked by, my breath evened out. I scanned the crowd. Over and over, I watched the passengers until there were none. When the attendant grabbed the microphone and announced the doors would close, I slunk into a chair. My breath caught in my throat, the intoxicating, thrilling chasing sensation seeped from my body until I was forced back into reality. The finality of it all broke me. It was a beautiful moment, a burst of childlike wonderment, rare impulsivity, and every romance movie I’d ever seen. Somehow, I naively thought I’d just show up at the airport and get on the plane with Frankie, and we’d lead out our merry lives.
But that didn’t happen. My heart sank into my stomach.
Frankie was gone.
I propped my elbows on my knees and sunk my head into my hands. Sure, I could get a flight on a different day, actually think through this terribly thought-out plan, but the moment was over. The adrenaline rush subsided. I was never meant to go with Frankie, and I needed this to bring me back down to earth.
Out the window the airplane ascended, taking my dreams with it.
An hour later, I pulled into my garage and shut the door. I dragged myself into a hot shower, then pulled on my pajamas. Despite the intense and swirling emotions of the last few hours, now that I was back home, I knew my actions were a momentary blip. I’d never leave my home.
So now what? I’d get Peaches’s house together for Frankie, check in with her about her new job, and then slowly ease myself away until Frankie was a beautiful memory. As much as that killed me, there was no other option.
Even though it was the dead of summer, I dug through my cabinet for tea. The teapot started rattling to life when I heard a car door slam.Must be the neighbors. Then, a few footsteps sounded on my porch. My ears perked.
Then, a knock.
I squinted and moved to the door. My heart leaped into my throat. Itcouldn’tbe. I looked again.
It was.
THIRTY-TWO
FRANKIE
I dropped my carry-on bag onto Morgan’s front steps and gazed at a pajama-clad Morgan standing in her doorway with a dropped mouth and wide eyes.
“I … No… What are you doing here?” she asked, her hand not leaving her mouth.
A few hours ago, I had the same thought. Although I was asking myself that question as I stared at the gate numbers at the airport. For two hours, I paced that tiny airport, and two thoughts came to mind:
One, I wassoexcited about the job atBirch & Willow.
Two, that excitement paled next to the heartbreak of leaving Morgan.
And as much as I didn’t want to admit it, I was also not quite ready to leave this town for the New York City hustle. From Zoey’s Bakery to the guy who owned the sub shop to Delilah at the flower store, this place had grown on me this summer. It filled a void in me I didn’t fully realize I had, made me realize I had been equating this town to my subpar parents and thought they were the same. They weredefinitely not. Morgan always said this place was like family, but it took coming back as an adult to experience it myself.
The rain had turned into a soft mist, but I was still getting soaked. Morgan hadn’t so much as blinked. “Can I come in?”
“Oh my God. Yes, yes.” Morgan snapped out of her trance and tugged me inside. “I just made tea. Want tea? You look cold. I know it’s warm outside, though. I’ve got chamomile and mint and probably some lemon in the back.”
Morgan’s words were rushed, her eyes darting back and forth like she was daring herself to snap out of a dream.
“No, I’m good.” I pushed my bag to the wall with the side of my foot and closed the door.
“Where’s the rest of your luggage?” she asked, still unblinking.
“Halfway to New York by now.” What a draining day. The last few hours felt like some of the longest of my life. Decisions and methodical thinking were never my specialty. I’d always trusted my gut, and my gut never let me down. Logically, going to New York made sense. Professionally, it made sense. Economically, it made sense. But when my gut kept nipping at me, I had to listen.
After pacing the airport before my flight, I had gone down to baggage claim and watched the luggage carousal spin for two hours. I weighed my options, prayed for clarity, pictured what my life might look like if I stayed here, pictured what it would look like back in New York. Something about going to New York didn’t feel right. Butnothingabout leaving Morgan felt right.
Morgan reached for my hand. Her soft touches swiping across my skin snapped me back into focus. “Are you okay?” she asked.
