Patrick Higgins stood at the windows of his office overlooking Rockefeller Plaza. The national morning show filmed in the studio on the ground-floor level had kicked off its summer concert series with one of his favorite bands. Even from the seventeenth floor, he could hear the one-name-only lead singer’s voice clearly. Touch me… take me to that other place. The crowd that had lined up early to fill the audience swayed in time with the rhythm. It was, indeed, a beautiful day, but the song that used to fill his heart with hope now pulled him into a state of remorse.
It had been a year and a half, but reminders of her were still everywhere, from the potted succulent that for some reason she had named Nigel on the windowsill, to this song—the one she had wanted to play as she walked down the aisle. He suspected that no matter how much time passed, he would never stop thinking about Melissa Eldredge. He had even splurged on a Tesla as a distraction, but it only reminded him of the way she would tease him for the hours he spent researching the potential purchase. “Some men dream about other women, but my competition is a computerized car.”
Of course, he might stand a semblance of a chance of getting over her if he made the slightest effort to erase the traces of her from his life, but as much as he had tried, he couldn’t bring himself to toss Nigel in the garbage. The photograph of them that had rested next to his computer remained in his top drawer. He also subscribed to her podcast, listening to her voice before falling asleep. And now, as he did at least once a week—promising himself this time would be the last—he found himself pulling up her social media accounts for updates.
He recognized the expression on her face—a mix of surprise and amusement with a dash of annoyance. Whoever took the shot caught her off guard. She wore a halo of giant hair curlers. She was gorgeous and radiant and absolutely adorable.
The photo was cropped but he could make out wisps of someone’s blonde hair at the bottom edge. Was she holding a child?
The picture’s caption felt like a punch to the stomach: Taking the leap. Let’s do this.
His thoughts raced, searching for any other interpretation. If his suspicions were right, Katie certainly would have been there. He pulled up the account for Katie Cakes. The most recent post was of a giant table covered with cupcakes decorated alternatively with the Yankees or Red Sox logos. The sweetest rivalry, read the caption.
The fourth picture in the bakery’s photo stream looked like a wedding cake. White with two flower-draped tiers. A winery in Cape Cod had been tagged in the post. So had Melissa. Had to keep tears from falling on the cake for my BFF the bride.
He closed the website on his browser and pulled up his current coding job instead. The new app he was creating for a banking client was almost ready for beta testing. As he forced himself to focus on the strings of letters and numbers on his screen, a new song broke out from the plaza below his office. He pictured Melissa holding his hand and dancing the last time they had seen that band together at Madison Square Garden.
He opened his internet browser again and searched for the courthouse closest to Nancy Eldredge’s house. He needed to know.