“I’ve known her for fifteen years. She’d never want anyone to be miserable, least of all me.”
Wade shrugged. “If you say so. But think about it—marriage is fucking permanent. You can’t just get out of it. One woman until the end. One body. One piece of ass for the rest of your life.”
I frowned at him. “You’re a dick.”
He laughed and picked up his second drink. “I’m just trying to be a good friend, dude. Warn you about what’s ahead—but if you like eating the same meal every night until the end of time, be my guest and get married. Because that’s what it’s like. Even if the steak is good, you get bored. And I can’t help it if I sometimes want to taste something else.”
“If you don’t stop talking, I might actually punch you in the face.”
Wade looked at me in surprise. “What’s your problem?”
“My problem is that I love this woman you’re talking about like she’s a fucking piece of meat. And I can’t think of anything better than having her to myself for the rest of my life. The thought of being with someone else is absurd. The thought of her being with someone else makes me want to put my fist through the wall. The thought of losing her because I’m a fucking idiot is unacceptable.”
Wade shrugged. “Okay. Then get married. But don’t blame me when it all goes to hell and you wish you were banging hot interns instead of getting your ass chewed out.”
“I have to go.” I pulled out my wallet and threw some cash on the bar.
“When are you back in the office?”
“I don’t know.” I stood up, stood taller. “Maybe never.”
“Huh? What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means I did what I came here to do, but it doesn’t matter as much as I thought it would—or rather, the reason it matters has nothing to do with HFX, and everything to do with me realizing I might fail but taking the risk anyway, because not taking it would have been the greater failure.”
“Dude. You lost me.”
“Never mind.” I was already heading for the door.
Losing Wade, I could handle.
Losing Felicity, no fucking way.
In the car on the way back to the hotel, I changed my flight so I could get out of D.C. tonight. Then I packed in a hurry and raced to the airport.
It was late when I got home, after midnight, so I wasn’t surprised that all the lights were off. I let myself in, dumped my bags at the door, and rushed into the dark, silent bedroom.
“Hey.” I sat down on her side of the bed and put a hand out. “I’m home.”
But she wasn’t there. I felt around for a few seconds, then panicked and switched on the lamp. The bed was empty.
I jumped to my feet. “Felicity?”
No answer.
Frantic, I checked the bathroom and noticed all her things were gone. I looked in the guest bedroom across the hall, even out on the deck. I went downstairs and looked in every room. I went into the garage—her car was gone.
“Fuck!” I pulled the door shut and went into the kitchen, my heart racing.
That’s when I saw the envelope on the island. It was white, and my name was written on it in her loopy, girlish handwriting.
My chest grew tighter as I ripped it open, smoothed out the page, and began to read.
Dear Hutton,
By now you’ve realized that I moved out while you were in D.C. I’m so sorry for doing it without telling you, but I didn’t want you to be worried or distracted during the hearing. You needed to be able to focus one hundred percent on your testimony. I didn’t want to add any additional stress.
I think this time apart is a good thing. As much as I have loved living with you and pretending to be a couple, it feels like the right time to step back from the fantasy and remember what’s real.
If you could please respect my need for a little space, I’d really appreciate it. I’ll get in touch on Saturday and we can make a plan for attending the party. Maybe on Sunday we can discuss the best way to handle the breakup where our families are concerned.
I hope you don’t think I’m upset with you—I’m not. I am upset, but only with myself for getting carried away. I forgot that it was all for show, and my feelings for you have grown beyond make-believe.
This isn’t your fault.
I’ll never forget this time we had together.
Love,
Felicity
P.S. I have been and always shall be your friend.
The postscript was written in code, and that, almost more than anything else, made my throat constrict and my heart threaten to splinter.