His redhead.
The paper in my hand crumples in my fist.
Alex looks at it, then back at my face, a small smirk playing on his lips.
I drop my eyes, shame washing over me. “I’m sorry.”
It’s a weak apology, but it’s honest. I never meant to hurt Alex. Up until I came face-to-face with Brooks again, we were happy. We’d spent a year building a life, and I threw it away for someone who discarded me the first moment he could.
“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” I tell him.
He stares at me, his carelessly packed duffel held comfortably in his hand.
“Did you fuck him?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
His bottom lip tips out. “Then you meant for it to happen, Henley. When you step over that line, it’s thought out.”
He walks past me, and I place my hand on his forearm without thought.
“You’re wrong,” I tell him, unsure why I continue to speak. “That’s the bigger problem. I didn’t even think about you,” I admit, a tear running down my face. “I don’t say that to hurt you, but as an explanation. Brooks owns a part of me that consumes me when I’m with him.”
He watches the tear track down my cheek. “Maybe do the world a favor then, Henley. Until you work out whatever the fuck you and Brooks are, don’t involve yourself with anyone else. It’s not fucking fair.”
I nod, knowing I shouldn’t need him to spell that out for me.
He tugs his arm from my touch, and I pull my hand back awkwardly.
He leaves without another word, and I watch the door close slowly at another failed relationship.
He left with his redhead.
I should feel mad. Angered by his blatant rejection. Broken by his what, betrayal?
If I was brave enough to admit it to myself, I don’t know how I felt.
Numb.
Unsure.
Confused.
He’d arrived with Grace.
It makes sense he’d leave with her.
He made me no promises.
There were declarations of love, sure, but they all came with warnings.
Tomorrow in the future?
When was that?
Did he expect me to wait?
Would I expect him to wait?
Walking into the lobby with my suitcase wheels sounding noisily behind me, I smile tightly at the other wedding guests I met last night. Hoping like hell they can’t read my shame.
I see Evelyn perched at a table in the lobby, her focus on her cell, coffee held in her hand. My feet move me toward her, and I take a seat without asking.
She lifts her head slowly. “You look like shit.”
“I feel like shit.”
Sliding her cell onto the table, she gives me her entire attention.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“Brooks and I when I was seventeen.”
I expected a million and one responses from her, but I didn’t expect the laughter that bubbles from her lips, forcing her to place her cup down to save it from spilling.
“Oh, God. You can’t think I actually care about that.”
I swallow down my embarrassment. “Maybe not now, but then—”
“Not even then. Jesus, Henley, I hope you haven’t been holding onto that guilt for all these years.”
I don’t deny it.
“Girl, you need to move past that. I cared about what Brooks could do for my social standing at school. I had no feelings for him.”
“Oh.”
She sighs. “I was a bitch in high school.” She shrugs. “I’m a bitch now, to be quite honest. My pride was a little dented, but only because I was afraid other people would think men preferred you to me.” She said it as an insult, but I didn’t take offense to it. “It only took me a second to realize that it was only him.”
Only him.
“For some reason, Brooks has this unhealthy obsession with you. Maybe it’s love. I don’t know. Did you do it again?”
I drop my eyes, afraid of her judgment.
“You won’t find judgment here, Henley. Lift your head, for Christ’s sake. What’s holding you back? From Brooks?” she clarifies.
“We’re toxic,” I murmur. “We hurt everyone around us.”
Waiting for me to lift my head, she blinks twice, sighing softly. “A word of advice. You two are more toxic apart with all these unresolved feelings. Step in or step away. You might very well find you’re toxic together as well. But you each have one foot in and one foot out. How can you really know if it works when you both have an escape route planned?”
I’d never looked at it like that.
“We’re apart more than we’re together.”
“Distance shouldn’t matter.” She stands, picking up her mug to swallow the last of her coffee. “Not if you’re meant to be. Distance is only mileage. Love is stronger than a measly ocean. And if you’re really meant to be together, you’ll find your way back to one another.”
I stare at her blankly, shocked into silence.
She sighs at my depressive state. “If it’s any consolation, Alex was a dick. He stared at my tits the entire time we spoke last night. It was super creepy. I’m not condoning what you did, but don’t beat yourself up about it. We all make mistakes.”
“Me seemingly more than others.”
Grabbing her phone, she readjusts her hair. “That’s a you problem, one I can’t help you with. Choose to be better.”
She leaves me with her words, moving off toward the lobby, no longer my enemy but also not quite my friend.
I can live with that.
three months later
I had plans to move onto South and Central America following Addy’s wedding, but when it came down to boarding the plane, I couldn’t stomach the thought of starting somewhere new. I needed comfort. I needed a destination that offered familiarity, that offered me peace and perspective.
Nursing my tea between my hands—promised to bring relaxation in its blend of herbs—I breathe in the company of endless flowers and potted plants.
I found this flower market on my first day in Tokyo a few years ago. The abundance of greenery caught my eye in the otherwise muted city colors. Nestled inside the quiet sanctuary was the most charming cafe I’d ever seen in my travels.
Glass tables adorned with flora
