Page 41 of There's Only One Sleigh
“Thank you for your help. It was a great fair.” I’m grateful my voice doesn’t crack as I force the words out. “I’ll probably see you again before you go.”
“Probably.” Her smile is as stiff as her spine. “But if not, goodbye, Rob.”
Those last two words are like a knife in my gut, but Whitney’s gone by the time I get my breath back. I want to chase after her and spin her around before hauling her into my arms and never letting her go.
Instead, I walk to the bench and open the top of the coffee she brought me. I don’t take a sip of it, though, because I’m honestly afraid I might cry if I do. Hopefully, someday I’ll be able to drink a coffee Beth made without thinking of Whitney, but that day definitely won’t be today. Or tomorrow.
Trying to throw myself into admin work doesn’t do the trick, either. There aren’t enough numbers or budget proposals or incident reports to distract me from the look in Whitney’s eyes when I told her there wasn’t any need for her to be here.
I’ll probably see you again before you go.
My own words are killing me. What does that even mean? I’ll see her as she drives away after an awkward, impersonal goodbye in front of my family? And then…she’s just gone?
No. That’s not okay.
Whitney’s only been in my life for two weeks, so I should be able to wish her well and move on with my life. But right now, I can’t even picture what my life will look like after she’s gone. Every time I try to imagine showing up at family events or grabbing a burger at the diner, Whitney’s with me. Trying to forcibly remove her from the mental picture doesn’t work.
Iwanther with me.
I need to tell her that. I have to tell her it doesn’t make any sense and I’d be asking her to sacrifice her life and career in the city, but I want her to stay and give us a chance.
And I need to tell hernow.
Every minute that goes by is another minute that goodbye has had a chance to settle in and take hold.
I don’t turn on the lights and siren. It’s tempting, but if I’m seen careening into the inn’s driveway, everybody in town will be worried about Natalie and the baby, and nobody needs that right now.
Instead, I pull into the driveway at a normal speed and shut off the SUV. I don’t want to get slowed down by my family and they’re most likely to be in the kitchen—though most of the vehicles are gone—so I don’t go through the back door as I usually would. I jog around to the front of the house and up the steps, almost eating it on a slick spot that I make a mental note to salt later.
The front room is empty, as I’d hoped, and I go straight to the stairs. I’m halfway up when the loud thumping of my footsteps on the treads sinks in and I realize I still have my boots on. I’m not turning back now, so I add cleaning the floors after salting the steps to the to-do list I’m compiling in my head.
Getting to Whitney is number one on the list, though, and I’m not stopping until I find her.
Her door is ajar and swings open under my knock. I don’t see her, even as I step inside. The bathroom door is open and the light is off, so she’s probably not in there. For one horrible, heartbreaking moment, I think she’s gone.
Then I see her suitcase on the floor next to the armoire. There’s a notebook and pen on the nightstand, and her phone charger is still plugged into the wall. I inhale deeply, breathing in the faint scent of her, and will my heart rate to return to something near normal. It’s not going to happen, though.
Whitney’s not in the room, but she hasn’t left. She’s somewhere in this town and I need to find her. But what if I go driving around looking for her, but I miss her and she comes back here and checks out before I circle back?
I go to the nightstand and flip to a clean page in her notebook. I’d tear the page out, but it’s one of those bound journal-type notebooks and if the whole thing unravels, there’s a good chance she won’t forgive me. There’s also a chance she won’t forgive me for scrawling a messy note in her very organized notebook, but that’s a chance I’m willing to take.
Don’t leave before I find you.
I set the notebook open on the bed with the pen on top, where she’s sure to see it. Then I uncap the pen and add one more word.
Please.
Then I retrace my steps until I’m back downstairs and have to decide where to go next.
I hear Nat laugh in the kitchen, and I assume she’s on the phone. It’s a long shot, but asking her if Whitney told her where she was going might save me some time in the long run. Since I still haven’t taken my boots off, I also need to tell her I’ll come back and clean up before Mom sees it or she’ll start yelling at me. And then Donovan will give me hell for leaving messy floors for his pregnant wife.
When I turn the corner into the kitchen, Nat’s still laughing, but she’s not on the phone. She’s sitting at the kitchen table.
With Whitney.
I come to an abrupt stop, my heart pounding. I thought I’d have some driving around time to figure out what I want to say to her, but she’s here and I have no idea what words should come out of my mouth. They’re not exactly lining up in the right order in my brain.
“You didn’t take off your boots,” Nat points out, because that’s the sisterly thing to do. “Luckily, you’re not making a mess of the kitchen floor because you stomped all the salt and sand off on the stairs.”
