Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 117574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 588(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 588(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
I race downstairs, panting like I’ve just finished a cycle class. And thank God, the box is still in the recycle bin and within fairly easy reach, in theory. If I’m willing to dumpster dive to get it. Which I am. In fact, without a second thought, I do what should be an unthinkable thing: I climb into the dumpster to retrieve the damned box.
Luckily, the dumpster is filled with mostly recyclables, which aren’t too messy or slimy; at least, when compared to the contents of the adjacent, smelly trash dumpster. Which means, by the time I’m dropping the box onto the ground below me and then inelegantly hurling myself over the edge to follow it out, I’m not covered in anything too vomit-inducing, goopy, or skeevy. Obviously, I’ll take a shower, immediately, when I get back upstairs to my place. But right now, I’m too eager to find that needle in a haystack not to crouch down, right here and now, and immediately sift through the box’s contents.
It takes me about twenty minutes to find the specific sheet of paper I’m looking for, but find it, I do. And when I hold it in my trembling hand and read it, over and over again, there’s no denying its meaning. I run a search on my phone—and the answer I’m seeking is clear-cut. Undeniable. I run another search, this one slightly different than the first; and again, the result is the same. The answer is clear-cut. Which means, whatever happens next, is entirely up to me.
Still sitting on the ground next to the recycle bin, I stare into space for a long moment, trying to figure out what to do. But I need more time to think. More time to reflect.
Breathing hard, I grab my phone again, and this time, push the button to call to Tessa’s recommended real estate agent.
“Hi, Charlotte,” the woman says in greeting. “Are we still on for two?”
“No, sorry. Something’s come up and I’m going to have to cancel.”
“These things happen. Would you like to reschedule?”
“No, I’m leaving tomorrow for a week in Dallas, and then going to New York to start a new job after that. I’ll get settled and be in touch. At this point, I think we’re going to have to play it by ear.”
31
AUGGIE
Landed in Seattle. In Uber now.
That’s the message I just now posted in my family group chat—the group populated by my mother, her fiancé, Henry, my brother, Max, and his wife, Marnie. We had a great time this past week together at Max and Marnie’s house overlooking the San Francisco Bay. Spending time with family, and especially those two kids, was the perfect way to try keep my mind off Charlotte. To try to stop missing her desperately. To yearn for her painfully. It didn’t work, course. Not at all. But it was worth a try.
As it turned out, even five days with family in a beautiful location, time spent playing princesses with my niece and making my nephew belly laugh, time spent sitting around a firepit at nights with the best people in the world, didn’t do a damned thing to make my mind and heart forget about the woman I love but can’t have.
I know I did the right thing, though. Standing on that sidewalk with Charlotte in front of our hotel, I knew, if I went upstairs with her and slid into bed with her, if I touched and kissed her and smelled her hair, I’d wind up begging her not to take that amazing job. At the very least, I’d beg her to try a long-distance relationship with me. And I didn’t want to do that to her. Not when she had her dream job, literally, in the palm of her hand. I love her too much not to insist on her putting her dreams first. And so, that’s what I did, as painful as it was. My mother always says, “If you love someone, set them free.” So, that’s exactly what I did.
Knowing I did the right thing doesn’t mean I’m not fucking miserable about it, though. Especially when I don’t always know I did the right thing. In fact, more than half the time, I’m finding myself wondering if maybe I fucked up. What would have happened if I told Charlotte I loved her in front of that hotel? So what if she didn’t say it back to me, like I was so fearful of in that moment. So what? As it stands now, I’d prefer to have been definitively rejected to this state of torturous limbo, one in which I can’t stop wondering “What if?”
My Uber stops in front of Ryan and Tessa’s gorgeous home—the paradise where I got to have the best week of my life with Charlotte. I thank the driver and get out of the car, feeling excited to pick up my Lucky Charm. As lonely as I’ve been, that little furball is going to be a balm for my aching soul.