In the darkened hours of early morning, I stood in my hallway after an insomnia-filled night. The dim lighting distorted what I saw at first. Something white lay on the darker wood flooring in the entryway by the front door. The rectangular paper had been folded neatly, and I bent down to pick up the note in the dark space. The edges were sharp, almost scored at the crisp bends.
I stared at it, as if through sheer will the contents would transform into something good. Only a foreboding that weighed heavy around me caused a sickening pit to churn in my stomach. To prevent myself from throwing up in the hall, I walked toward the kitchen as I unfolded it.
I scanned the note.
In utter disbelief, I read it again, more slowly.
Hannah had written a letter of resignation. Not only from me. Not just from Invitation Only. In a clear overreaction, she hadn’t quit me and the business; she’d cut all ties. With Mase and Ben, with Ava, my sisters.
“Oh, the fuck you are.” I bit the words out as I crushed the damned note in my fist. Seething, my breaths came quick and shallow. I paced twice, before heading straight back to my bedroom.
After stabbing my legs into a pair of jeans, I yanked my desk chair out, sat, and tossed the crumpled ball into the center of my desk. Then I forced deeper breaths into my lungs as I stared at her note.
She didn’t mean what she’d written—couldn’t possibly want this. In the midst of the love from my family and friends, Hannah had come alive. No way would I let her give that up.
Taking my time to spread the paper back out flat, I stared at the amount of wrinkles in it. Let them be. Let her see the evidence of my immediate anger with her ridiculous notion. Having a powerful message to send, I flipped it over to bare the blank side: a tattered canvas, perfect.
I grabbed a pen off of my stack of unpaid bills then began my reply.
Hannah,
I’m sorry. I didn’t protect you. I should’ve made you first. You’re the most important thing, and I failed you.
I reject your resignation.
When we started down this adventure, we both committed to giving it a go.
One of your greatest fears was risking our friendship and losing not only me, but Mase and Ben. My sisters. My parents.
They are all there for you. Yours as much as they are mine. The girls need you with Invitation Only. Mase and Ben need you. Ava needs you.
Fuck, I need you.
But I know I lost the right to have that mean anything. I know I fucked up.
But this note isn’t about that.
You want your space. I get it. But do it surrounded by your new family. Take care of them. They’ll need you while I’m gone.
Because you need your space, I’m heading out of town. I don’t trust myself to stay away from you. But I will be back for you.
No matter what you believe, I love you more than I love anything in this world.
I will love you forever,
Cade
With a burning lump in my throat, I folded the note, her words ending up on the outside.
One side of the folded rectangle had an entire blank surface, so I wrote a word that summed up my feelings about the whole damned thing.
Grabbing my leather duffel, I shoved a couple of pairs of jeans and a handful of T-shirts into it. I looked around the room, but there wasn’t a fucking thing I felt I needed. I grabbed only the bare necessities.
Passport. Tossed it in, along with my driver’s license and a single credit card.
I grabbed my checkbook and ripped out two checks, then signed the remaining blank ones. I zipped the bag shut and slung it over a shoulder, scooped up the unpaid bills, and dumped them onto the kitchen table with the checkbook on top. As an afterthought, I grabbed a yellow sticky note and scrawled Mase a message.
Had to bolt. There’s money to cover expenses for a while. I peeled off another square and stuck it below the first. Damn tiny things. Contractors have deposits. Should be on autopilot with remodel schedule. Joe will take care of it all. On a third note I wrote: Bike in airport lot by elevators. Extra key in bottom desk drawer.
I cut the kitchen light, casting the room into darkness again. How I felt on the inside.
A mind-numbing twenty minutes later, I stepped onto Hannah’s front porch. I didn’t ring her bell or knock. She only ever came and went through her front door, so I shoved a corner of the recycled note into the rubber molding surrounding her door.
That one word faced outward, reminding me of how I felt about this shit going down. She deserved her time, and I needed to finally listen. To push at this point risked me fucking things up further. If that was even possible.
She had made a decision. And I was honoring the consequences. For now.
On her driveway, I sat on my bike. Stared at her door. The pull to stay and fight was tremendous. Didn’t matter though. Walking away for the time being was the right thing to do.
But the part of me screaming inside, the man who’d finally found the woman meant for him, and then lost her, stared at the folded note that showed the only word echoing through my head.
“No.”