Free Anywhere With You by Britney King

else could she have said other than… yes.
     

     
    “No, it’s fine, really,” I assured her. “I’m taking a cab back.” I checked my watch for the fifteenth time in the past five minutes. “It should be here any minute.”
    By this point, we’d retreated into the garden, away from prying eyes of the crowd. I took her left hand in mine and eyed the ring. “Impressive,” I said, letting her hand drop. She stared off into the distance and then up at the sky. It was cold out, the day overcast and grey. She wasn’t wearing a jacket, and I wanted to give her mine, but I didn’t. Fitting, I thought to myself.
    “I’m sorry, Jack,” she whispered without looking at me. I followed her gaze and saw that she’d been watching children playing out on the lawn. “I know this has been miserable… and I’m sure there are a thousand other, better ways you could’ve spent Thanksgiving.”
    She looked up at me then, and I saw something in her eyes I hadn’t seen before. Hesitation.
    “Yes, there are. But I wanted to spend it with you.”
    “And now you have,” she choked out.
    “And now I have,” I said.
    “I-I didn’t know—”
    “It’s ok,” I murmured, cutting her off.
    “Is it?” she asked.
    I smiled. “It will be.”
    I heard someone call out that a cab was waiting out front.
    “Are you sure?” she asked again.
    I didn’t know what she meant. It could have been a lot of things. Either way, I lied. “Yes, I’m sure,” I said, and I pulled her close.
    She kissed my cheek and pulled back slowly. “I’ll call you.”
    I nodded, gave her hand one last squeeze, and then I walked away.
    This time was easier than the last. For, this time, she’d watched me go.
     

     
    I’d already booked a red-eye flight five minutes into the cab ride on the way back to the hotel. I realized instantly that I had to go and that I had to make it quick. Just like ripping off a Band-Aid. So, I went straight back to the hotel room, grabbed my things, and deftly scribbled a note for Amelie.
     
    Sorry but I had to run.
     
    Love,
    Jack
     
    P.S. You’re an absolute fool if you marry him.
     
    I placed the note on her pillow, and then I hightailed it out of Boston without looking back. If I’d disliked that city before, I surely hated it now.
     

     
    It would be seven long months before I would hear Amelie’s voice again. Even in my weakest moments, I couldn’t force myself to answer her calls—or return them whenever she crossed my mind. Which was a lot. But I was pissed, and I didn’t want to hear her shitty excuses. I wanted space. I wanted her to understand that what she did was wrong. That she made the wrong choice by saying yes, by staying—no matter how awkward it might have been if she’d left. Mostly, I wanted her to feel as shitty as I felt.
    A few days before Christmas, at the office, I received a card in the mail. I recognized the handwriting immediately, and when I opened it, a small photo fell into my lap. Anxious to read the card, I didn’t immediately pick the photo up.
     
    Dear Jack,
     
    I don’t know how many other ways I can say it… I’m sorry. And I wish you’d let me explain.
    Also, a memento from one of my favorite parts of our trip. I thought you might like to have a copy.
     
    Hope you’re well.
     
    Merry Christmas.
     
    Love,
    Amelie
     
    I lifted the photo from my lap and studied it. It was a beautiful black and white shot of the old man from the plane and his newborn grandson. She actually did it. I’d thought about that man many times, and I wondered how he was doing. I studied the photo, and while I’m not one for sentimentality, something about the picture got to me. It may have simply been the holidays, or it may have been hearing from her, but—something about that man’s smile reminded me once again of all I didn’t have.
    Still, I didn’t write back and I didn’t call. Another email arrived on New Year’s Eve.
     
    To: Jack Harrison
    From: Amelie