I raced up the stairs to the bedroom and haphazardly tossed clothes into the suitcase I’d used for our trip to California. Los Angeles, it felt like a lifetime ago. Sunset strolls on Manhattan Beach, taking in the sights as a couple. San Francisco, Thanksgiving with Adam’s family, a glimpse into one possible future. And I’d just thrown it all away.
Bile rose in my throat and I fought the urge to keep my dinner down. I needed to get out of here. With a half-full suitcase, a laptop tucked under one arm, and a guilty conscience, I left Adam’s house. Within minutes I was racing down the road to the refuge of my cottage.
But it wasn’t really my cottage, now was it? No, it belonged to Adam. I hadn’t even officially renewed my lease agreement; it had run out last month. So I was essentially living in the cottage for free. I wished I could leave immediately, but it was close to midnight. There’d be no ferry running at this hour.
Unable to sleep, I spent the night packing up the rest of my stuff. When the first streaks of dawn colored the sky, I called my dad. I told him that I needed him, and an hour later he was on the island.
Brody drove my dad up from the dock. Thankfully, neither man asked any questions. They just loaded the boxes I’d packed into the back of the truck in silence. When they were done, I told them to go ahead without me; I’d meet them down at the dock in a few minutes. Hoisting myself up into the big Navigator, I sat quietly for a few seconds. And then I pulled away, the cottage I’d called home for the past few months a fading image in the rearview mirror.
I parked in the parking lot by the dock, slid the keys under the front mat. Would Adam have Max pick up the SUV? Or would I find it here waiting for me when I returned? Yes, when. Because the one thing I was sure of, even as I boarded the ferry to leave, was that I would be back.
I could tell my dad was itching to ask me what had happened, but I pretended to doze on the way over to Cove Beach. I actually was exhausted, having been up all night. Not to mention, the past twelve hours had been emotionally draining, and that was putting it mildly.
When, at last, we reached the mainland, my father turned to me and asked if I was coming home. He meant his house, my family home, but I needed to be alone. “No, I think I’m just going to go to Mrs. Heider’s house,” I said. “She left for Florida this morning, and my lease begins today anyway.”
My father shook his head. I assured him I’d be just fine. And I hoped I would. My dad looked as doubtful as I felt, but he didn’t press it.
Brody was in the midst of unloading the boxes off the ferry when my dad said, “Go and get some sleep, Maddy. Your old room will be waiting for you if you get too lonely. You know that, right?”
“I do, Dad.” I gave him a hug. “Thank you.”
I grabbed one of the boxes from where Brody had stacked some, and with a nudge from my hip I pushed it into the backseat of my BMW. When I turned back around, my dad said, “Don’t worry about the rest, sweetie. We’ll drop them off later.”
“Just leave them on the front porch if I’m asleep,” I replied, a sudden wave of exhaustion coming over me.
One last heartfelt thanks to my dad, coupled with another hug, and then I was on my way to yet another new home.
***
I slept most of the day and woke with a rumbling stomach. The day had come and gone in this dead-of-winter season, the short burst of low-in-the-sky January sunshine now a distant memory.
I stretched and yawned on Mrs. Heider’s floral-patterned, high-backed sofa. Making it up to the bedroom had seemed like too much effort when I first let myself in hours earlier. So did undressing. I still wore the same clothes from yesterday—jeans and a red fleece layered over a black, long-sleeved tee.
Too tired and hungry to change, even now, I slowly rose to my feet. My stomach rumbled again, and I went to see if Mrs. Heider had anything remotely edible in the kitchen. On the way I tripped over the boots I’d kicked off before lying down, almost fell, and let out a colorful curse. I was beginning to sound like Adam. But thinking of the man I’d just left was the last thing I needed to do. Instead I hurried into the kitchen.
And, oh my goodness…
I’d forgotten that my landlady’s kitchen was some sort of odd decorating homage to cats. Or maybe I’d just blocked it out. In any case, I blinked a few times as my eyes adjusted to the overhead light and I took it all in.
Oh boy. Tabbies romped on the wallpaper border, looking as if they had not a care in the world. Oh, how I envied them at this moment. A fat Cheshire cat cookie jar lounged on the counter, and salt and pepper shakers shaped like Siamese kittens sat on a wooden farmhouse table—the centerpiece of the room. The cats’ noses were touching, which I had to admit was kind of adorable, in a kitschy sort of way. I picked up the salt, separating the two. There was a magnet that kept them together. If only relationships could be that simple.
Mrs. Heider had left me a well-stocked pantry. Even the refrigerator was full. I heated up a microwaveable cup of soup and sat down at the table. As I nibbled on a cracker, I toyed with the shakers until the microwave dinged, alerting me that
