My heart races the second I see the empty bed.
I know I set my alarm last night, so it can’t be later than eight o’clock. I don’t sleep through my alarm as a general rule. We have early practices often, and being late to them means more than a slap on the wrist. Old habits die hard.
I reach for my phone, fumble around with it, and blink. This can’t be right. Ten a.m.? That would mean I overslept by two hours. Two hours?
I pull myself out of bed, throw on a pair of sweats, and leave the room. I make my way downstairs where my mom is sitting by the fire reading a newspaper, a pot of coffee ready. I ignore both of them and look at the clock above the stove. It’s never wrong—my mom is militant about keeping that thing clicking along at the right time. She even waits up ’til two or three in the morning, or whenever the hell daylight savings clicks into effect, to adjust it.
Ten-oh-four. My heart ices over. Her flight left at ten.
I take the stairs two at a time, ignoring my mom’s calls to come have breakfast. While I was downstairs, a message came in on my phone. It’s from her.
Dear Ryan,
I love you.
Goodbye.
Love,
Your delivery girl
I let out a stream of curse words that have my mom checking on me from downstairs.
“I’m fine,” I yell back to her, even though I’m not. I’m fucking pissed—not at Andi, but at Jocelyn, for starting this whole thing, for running Andi off.
Andi’s selfless, and there’s no doubt in my mind that Jocelyn said something to force her away from me, somehow guilt-tripped her into thinking she’d be the reason for my lack of success, or whatever—and Andi would believe her because she’s a saint with a heart as big as the Pacific Ocean.
Well, I’m not letting Jocelyn ruin the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
I shove whatever I can think of into my backpack. I don’t even know if I packed real clothes—I could’ve packed fifty pairs of boxers and no shirts for how much I’m paying attention.
All I know is that I need to get out of here. I double-check that I have my wallet, credit card, and license; they’re the only things I really need.
Well that, and Andi. If one thing is clear this morning, it’s that I need her like I need my arm. Maybe, maybe I could survive without her, but it would be pretty painful and really fucking annoying. I certainly wouldn’t be very happy about losing her if there were any other options.
“Where are you going?” my mother asks when I return downstairs. She takes one look at my backpack and, without moving from her chair, twitches her slipper-clad toes. “Where’s Andi?”
“Los Angeles.”
“I thought your flight wasn’t until next weekend?”
“It wasn’t.”
She nods. “I see. Do you need a ride to the airport?”
I manage a smile at my mother. Sometimes, mothers are an annoying pain in the ass—it’s just a fact of life—but other times, they are the very best thing. This morning, she’s the very best thing.
“I wouldn’t say no to one.” My frustration fades slightly. “I was going to drive, but—”
She leaps to attention. “Let me take you. Your father says I drive like a maniac.”
“Well, you do.”
She smiles. “That’s good, because I have a feeling your business can’t wait.”
I have the best damn mother on the planet. I give her a hug. When we pull apart, she’s smiling, pulling me toward the car.
“She loves you, Ryan,” she says as we load into her minivan. My mother could easily afford a new car, but I think she likes the old one for nostalgia. “You’re doing the right thing.”
I swallow, look out the window, and then focus on arranging a new flight on the drive to the airport. I’ve already hugged my mother this morning, and that’s enough emotion for one day. I’m conserving the rest of it to unleash on Jocelyn.
When we arrive at the airport, I have one foot out the door and am shouting my thanks when my mom grabs my wrist.
I raise an eyebrow as I turn to look at her.
“Go get her,” she says. “And bring her back. I like her.”
“Me too,” I say, and then give my mother a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for…everything.”
Then, I’m gone. I make it onto the plane with one minute to spare, and by the time I’ve landed in Los Angeles nearly four hours later, I’m a bundle of nerves.
One minute I’m pissed to all hell, itching to get face to face with Jocelyn. The next minute, I’m feeling a little insecure, wondering if I’ve read Andi all wrong. Maybe she really is over me, and I’m chasing her down for no reason at all. Maybe she’s just too nice to tell me she doesn’t want me.
I hate this. I don’t like feeling vulnerable. I have a tattoo on my arm, a scar on my face, and I play hockey for a living—I should be too tough for this shit.
Since I have a carry-on bag full of mostly boxers, I don’t wait at baggage claim. I call an Uber, but it’s too frigging difficult to find, so I hop into the first taxi I see. It’s a minivan.
“This is extra,” the guy says. “Big car.”
“Big tip”—I hold up my cash—“if you can get me to this address quickly.”
It’s Jocelyn’s office. I send her a text to meet me there immediately.
Jocelyn beeps back in a second that she’s already there. I should have known she’d be working on a Sunday morning; she doesn’t have a date at church, that’s for sure.
The taxi driver does a decent job of getting me there quickly, running only two red lights. I tip him well and climb out. The entire drive, I can only think that Andi’s here, too, in this city somewhere, and I need to find her. Unfortunately, she’s not returning any of my texts. I can’t tell if she’s left her phone off or if she’s sad, disappointed, angry, and the not knowing is killing me.
Before I head into Jocelyn’s office, I manage to score her friend Lisa’s number from some comedy website. I call her, and fortunately, she answers. “Hey,” I say quickly. “This is Ryan.”
“Oh.”
I can’t read anything from Lisa’s tone, and that ticks me off even more. “Do you know where Andi is?”
“Crying in the bathroom?”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Of course I am,” she says, but the soft edge to her words has me wondering if there’s not some truth to it. “She’s tough. She’ll survive whatever the hell you put her through.”
“Look, I’m sorry. It was a misunderstanding. I’m here, and I need to see her.”
“You’re in Los Angeles?”
“Yeah, I got the first flight out here that I could.”
“No, I’m sorry. I don’t need to ask her to know she doesn’t want to see you.”
“I know I screwed up. None of this was supposed to happen, and I’m here to make it right.”
“Look, I’m Andi’s best friend, and I have to deal with the fallout from these things. I’m not letting you make that fallout worse.”
“I’m going to tell you this one time,” I say, preparing to lay everything on the line. “I am in love with Andi. There was a misunderstanding this weekend, and I’m here to set things right. I really don’t think you should be making the decision for her of whether or not she wants to see me.”