him yesterday that she’d asked him a million and one times to work less, that she’d gotten sick of the sound of her own voice, but now that she thought about it, she knew the truth. That voice had been in her head. Rattling around, a shout, a scream. When it had come down to it, she had squelched her complaints and let things go rather than rock the boat.
She hadn’t seen the connection because she hadn’t associated each minor instance of Jeff’s departure, his mini acts of abandonment, with her father’s many goings. But that’s what it was, right? As hard as she had tried not to be her mother, she’d missed the big picture. Every time he left and she gave him permission, every time he tuned her out and she complied, she made it a little easier for him to think he could keep going like this forever.
What would have happened if she’d stopped acquiescing? What would have happened if she’d stopped playing nice? If just once, instead of disappearing into her own head and letting him have the conversation, she’d wrenched the phone out of his hand and hung up the call?
She’d never know now, would she?
Unless—
Unless it was not, in fact, too late.
She looked at her watch as if it would shed some light on the larger issue of whether this revelation had come in time.
She could get off at the next stop, call in sick to work, get a GO Shuttle, and head to the airport. Find him. Tell him. Maybe it wouldn’t change anything, but at least she would know.
The train was approaching White Plains. She stood up, lurching forward into the seat, nearly smacking Brooklyn in the face with her shoulder.
“Where are you going?” he demanded. “Don’t go. I’ll shut up. I promise. I was just trying to help.”
She smiled at him, her stranger on a train, her guardian angel. “You helped.”
“So where are you going?”
She stepped into the aisle.
“Home.”
Chapter Eight
She hung on to Brooklyn’s seat as the train swayed and pulled into the station, and then she heard it again.
Jeff’s phone. Behind her.
What?
“I like happily-ever-after endings, myself,” said Brooklyn to no one in particular. “I like romantic comedies. Not those dark little dramas at the Sunshine Cinemas, where someone has to end up dead to teach everyone a lesson about pride going before a fall.”
Riiiing .
“Do you hear that?” she whispered.
“What?”
“That sound. The phone ringing.”
Brooklyn was grinning like mad at her. Maybe because she was mad as a hatter herself.
People were climbing onto the train and making their way into her car. She shrank back into her seat. Even over the sound of footsteps and people settling themselves in, the ringing was clear.
It was getting closer, unless she really was hallucinating. Unless she really had lost her mind. She turned slowly.
“Mind if I sit here?”
That was Jeff’s voice, and it was attached to Jeff. Her noodle legs gave out, and she collapsed back into the seat.
Jeff looked exhausted. There were circles under his eyes and a generous scruff along his chin and jaw. And there was something in his face. Contrition and determination and, wow, she had never seen him look that nervous. Not when he’d first approached her in a Peet’s Coffee, cockier than she usually went for. Not when he’d asked her to move in with him, a genuine question but one he hadn’t ever doubted her answer to. Not even when he’d shown up on the train on Tuesday morning, half apology and half certified-Jeff surety.
Now he looked green with anxiety. He looked the way she felt.
He leaned down, and when he spoke in her ear, his voice was rough from whatever combination of fatigue and nerves he was packing. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
“Is this seat taken?”
She managed to get enough of her muscles and nerves to cooperate that she could slide over and make room for him. Brooklyn had disappeared. She couldn’t see the top of his head. He might not be tactful, but apparently he was
She hadn’t seen the connection because she hadn’t associated each minor instance of Jeff’s departure, his mini acts of abandonment, with her father’s many goings. But that’s what it was, right? As hard as she had tried not to be her mother, she’d missed the big picture. Every time he left and she gave him permission, every time he tuned her out and she complied, she made it a little easier for him to think he could keep going like this forever.
What would have happened if she’d stopped acquiescing? What would have happened if she’d stopped playing nice? If just once, instead of disappearing into her own head and letting him have the conversation, she’d wrenched the phone out of his hand and hung up the call?
She’d never know now, would she?
Unless—
Unless it was not, in fact, too late.
She looked at her watch as if it would shed some light on the larger issue of whether this revelation had come in time.
She could get off at the next stop, call in sick to work, get a GO Shuttle, and head to the airport. Find him. Tell him. Maybe it wouldn’t change anything, but at least she would know.
The train was approaching White Plains. She stood up, lurching forward into the seat, nearly smacking Brooklyn in the face with her shoulder.
“Where are you going?” he demanded. “Don’t go. I’ll shut up. I promise. I was just trying to help.”
She smiled at him, her stranger on a train, her guardian angel. “You helped.”
“So where are you going?”
She stepped into the aisle.
“Home.”
Chapter Eight
She hung on to Brooklyn’s seat as the train swayed and pulled into the station, and then she heard it again.
Jeff’s phone. Behind her.
What?
“I like happily-ever-after endings, myself,” said Brooklyn to no one in particular. “I like romantic comedies. Not those dark little dramas at the Sunshine Cinemas, where someone has to end up dead to teach everyone a lesson about pride going before a fall.”
Riiiing .
“Do you hear that?” she whispered.
“What?”
“That sound. The phone ringing.”
Brooklyn was grinning like mad at her. Maybe because she was mad as a hatter herself.
People were climbing onto the train and making their way into her car. She shrank back into her seat. Even over the sound of footsteps and people settling themselves in, the ringing was clear.
It was getting closer, unless she really was hallucinating. Unless she really had lost her mind. She turned slowly.
“Mind if I sit here?”
That was Jeff’s voice, and it was attached to Jeff. Her noodle legs gave out, and she collapsed back into the seat.
Jeff looked exhausted. There were circles under his eyes and a generous scruff along his chin and jaw. And there was something in his face. Contrition and determination and, wow, she had never seen him look that nervous. Not when he’d first approached her in a Peet’s Coffee, cockier than she usually went for. Not when he’d asked her to move in with him, a genuine question but one he hadn’t ever doubted her answer to. Not even when he’d shown up on the train on Tuesday morning, half apology and half certified-Jeff surety.
Now he looked green with anxiety. He looked the way she felt.
He leaned down, and when he spoke in her ear, his voice was rough from whatever combination of fatigue and nerves he was packing. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
“Is this seat taken?”
She managed to get enough of her muscles and nerves to cooperate that she could slide over and make room for him. Brooklyn had disappeared. She couldn’t see the top of his head. He might not be tactful, but apparently he was
Similar Books
