But I fell back on professionalism. There was a leave-no-trace protocol for these things. I was never there.
Amadi loaded my suitcase into our black, secret-servicey company Tahoe, and then, without breaking stride, he opened the passenger door for me and walked around to the driver’s seat.
He was ready to move.
I walked to my door, but I hesitated.
I looked around for signs of either brother, but nothing—just trees rustling, the faint beginnings of stars, a clump of cows by the fence watching us with their sad eyes.
“I’m sorry—” I said. “Can I just have a minute?”
Amadi checked his watch, but he said, “Okay.”
There was a light on in the barn. Maybe they were there?
But the barn was empty.
I walked back slowly, scanning the fields. I could see Clipper in the paddock. I blew him a kiss.
The idea of not saying goodbye to Jack made me feel … panicky—even though I never said goodbye to clients. Would saying goodbye even matter? It wouldn’t change anything. But I felt like I had a hundred urgent messages for Jack—and all I wanted was to convey them all. Whatever they were.
Back at the Tahoe, I stood by the open door for another minute, scanning the yard and waiting.
And then it was time to quit stalling.
I climbed in, swung the door closed, and buckled up.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s go.”
Amadi pulled onto the gravel drive and steered us out of the yard, over the cattle guard, and down the long road where Jack had fake hugged me so many times.
It was fine. It was better this way. Probably.
I took a breath and held it tight in my chest. I was not going to cry. Not in front of a colleague. Not over a client. That was something to focus on, at least: holding it together. I could do this. I could do this.
But then Amadi braked. He slowed, then stopped, in the road.
He was checking the rearview mirror. “Is that the principal?”
I twisted around to look out the back.
Yep. It was Jack. Running after us down the gravel lane.
“Give me a minute,” I said, climbing out.
Jack met me, stopping barely two feet away, out of breath. “You left,” he panted, “without saying goodbye.”
“I waited,” I said. “But we had to go.”
Jack tried to let his breath catch up. “I thought we had more time.”
“Where were you?” I asked.
“Hank had some things to say.”
I nodded.
“I’m really sorry,” Jack said then, “about the death threats. I’m really sorry that I put your life in danger.”
“I’ll be okay,” I said. “As long as I stay away from you.”
It was a half joke, but Jack didn’t think it was funny.
“Don’t worry,” I said then. “The Corgi Lady will move on eventually. That’s how these things work.”
“Thank you. For everything,” he said, taking a step closer. “I wanted to say that to you before you left.”
I nodded. “I wanted to say something to you, too.”
Jack met my eyes and waited.
But then twenty different things popped into my head. There was no way to say it all. Or even prioritize. I finally went with, “You did the right thing just now.”
Jack let out a funny little laugh and looked down.
“I know it was Drew’s last wish, and I never even met him, but I don’t think he’d want one thing he said in a panic to rip your family apart forever.”
“Let’s hope not,” Jack said. Then, “Too late now.”
“Your mom was right,” I said.
“My mom’s always right.”
“Forcing you and Hank together was a good thing.”
Jack nodded. “Good thing he’s so great at pissing me off.”
Back in the car, Amadi flicked the lights on and off.
“Looks like it’s time,” Jack said.
“Yes,” I said. “But I need you to know…”
I hesitated. It really was time to go. There was a tiny part of me that thought I should tell Jack something real. That I liked him. That I’d fallen for him. That even though it had been fake—maybe even because it had been fake—it had somehow become the most real thing in my life.
But how humiliating was that?
Once we parted, there’d be no way to get in touch with him. He’d disappear behind that curtain of fame that separates celebrities from everybody else, and I’d disappear into my workaholic, on-the-run life. If this really was the last time I’d ever see him, then this was my only chance to tell the truth, and I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life regretting everything I should’ve said.