I was sitting, cross-legged in the middle of my bed at the hotel and staring at my laptop in front of me.
It had been a month since Tate’s kiss, a month where a lot had happened, a month since he’d walked out of my room and I hadn’t seen or heard from him again.
I’d spent the last however-many-hours finally going through over six months of e-mails.
I should have checked sooner.
My mother, father and sister all had my new location and the number to the cell phone Tate had bought me. I’d given up that information weeks ago. They had been in constant contact since then, first freaked way the heck out then settling in because they heard I was settling in. My folks were planning to come out and visit me at the end of the summer and Caroline and her partner Mack were thinking of coming with them. I liked this idea. They’d like Carnal and Betty and Ned could always do with the business.
That was all good, the rest of my e-mails were all bad.
First were the ones from my so-called friends sending so-called concerned e-mails about my quick exit from town, selling off all my stuff and cutting off my ties to my old life. Invitations to dinner and drinks abounded, they said so they could talk to me, find out if I was okay, make sure I was doing the right thing.
What they meant was so they could find out where my head was at and then inform Hayley. She knew I had the goods on Brad and I could make the divorce uncomfortable. She knew all I had to do was tell my attorneys to nail his ass (and they were practically begging me to do it) and I could wipe the floor with him.
But I didn’t. I signed the papers, took my half of our life, sold it within days of signing the papers and got the heck out of there.
But then the e-mails changed. Instead of seeming fake concerned, they seemed more concerned. Then they seemed contrite. Then they begged me to call, check in, touch base.
Something was happening, my old, fake, two-faced friend Audrey told me, something I needed to know.
She’d sent that e-mail just two weeks before.
Which was one week before Brad sent his one and only e-mail.
Ree, it began and just seeing his nickname for me typed on the screen sent a knife through my heart that hurt so much I almost couldn’t read on. Conversely, it also pissed me off so much I almost couldn’t read on.
I wished I didn’t. But I did.
The rest of it said:
Where are you? I’ve been calling your cell and it says I can’t leave a message. Your parents won’t tell me. I’ve called Caroline a dozen times and Mack won’t let me speak to her.
I can’t believe you left like that. Honey, you didn’t even say good-bye. We didn’t get to talk. There are things that needed to be said, things that were happening you needed to know, things that had changed. We needed to talk. Didn’t you get my messages before you left?
I need to speak to you, Ree, urgently, honey. When you get this, call me or tell me where you are.
I made a mistake, darling and I need to explain.
All my love,
B
He made a mistake? What mistake?
He needed to explain? Explain what?
Things had changed? What things?
All my love? What the fuck was that about?
I stared at the e-mail.
I got his messages before I left, I just ignored them. He had his nose so far up my ass in an effort to make our split amicable and not do anything to make me get angry that it’d take surgery to extricate him. I didn’t need his fake concern when he was not only fucking my best friend but had been for years and had left me to move in with her and had already started his new happy bubble life.
I needed to get out. So I got out.
Where in the Divorce Rulebook did it say I had to say good-bye? All the good-byes that needed to be said were said that night he told me he didn’t love me anymore but he loved the woman who I’d spent two years confiding in that I was worried something was wrong in my marriage and I would rather die than lose my husband.
I hit the cross at the top of the screen and closed the e-mail. Then I hit the cross on the viewing panel and closed the program. Then I shut down the machine and slapped the laptop closed.
Then my cell rang.
I picked it up and looked at the display. It said “Wood Calling”.
I hit the button to take the call and put it to my ear.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey baby,” he greeted in his gentle voice and my toes curled. “What chance I got that you’ll finish work tonight and drive to my place?”
I smiled into the phone. “I’m not done until after three in the morning, Wood.”
“Know that, Laurie.”
“I’ll be dead on my feet and only want to sleep.”
“I got a bed.”
“Yes, and you have a job where you go to work at seven. I have a job that I sleep until noon.”
“You’re tellin’ me this because…”
“I’ll crash and three hours later you’ll be gone.”
“And?”
“And Ned and Betty’ll worry about me.”