chapter 34

“. . .And so I ran away in the dead of night,” Brighton concluded as she poured another glass of orange juice at Kira’s house the next morning. “The end.”

“Wait, what?” Kira asked. “That’s not the end—that’s a cliff-hanger. To be continued!”

Brighton put down the pitcher and dusted off her palms. “Saying ‘I love you’ was the equivalent of giving him an invisibility cloak. It was like a Harry Potter novel up in there.”

Kira nibbled her bagel. “But he was coming back up.”

Brighton studied the countertop. “He was down there freaking out for a long time.”

“Maybe he wasn’t freaking out,” Kira suggested. “Maybe he was just . . . gathering his thoughts.”

Brighton’s head snapped up. “Why are you defending him?”

“I’m not,” Kira swore. “I’m just saying, you’ve both been through a lot these last few weeks. And then you love bomb him when he least expects it.”

“You should have seen him, Kira.” Brighton closed her eyes against the memory. “He looked like I’d punched him in the face.”

“Maybe he was coming back up to tell you that he loves you, too. Maybe he wanted to have a long, heartfelt chat about his innermost feelings.”

Brighton scoffed. “Maybe he was planning to put me on a private jet to Mexico, just like he did with Genevieve.”

Kira shrugged. “We’ll never know now, since you fled the premises. Why did you do that?”

“I was scared.”

“Of what?”

Brighton didn’t reply. She didn’t want to tell her friend the truth: Of course it would be awful if Jake told her he didn’t love her—but it would be truly terrifying if he told her he did love her. “Look, it was great, okay? It was . . .” She paused, trying to find the right term for what she had shared with Jake. “A whirlwind romance. The kind I never thought I’d have.”

“Aww.”

“But it was temporary. It had to end and I ended it.” She waved one hand around, indicating the whole town of Black Dog Bay. “None of this is really who I am.”

“Except the jewelry-designer part,” Kira said.

“I’m an actuary,” Brighton said firmly. “That’s my real job in my real life, which I will be returning to this afternoon. In fact”—she glanced at the clock on the microwave—“I should get on the road.”

“Have you told Lila you’re going?”

“Yes. She keeps claiming I’ll never actually leave, but she’s going to have to make her peace with it. Because I can’t stay here without backsliding every time my phone rings. I have to make a clean break.” Brighton got out of her chair and carried her dishes to the sink. “Although, um, I took something of his before I left.”

Kira’s jaw dropped. “You’re keeping souvenirs like a serial killer?”

“I’m a junkie, not a serial killer,” Brighton corrected. “And I’m not keeping it.” She showed Kira the antique watch she’d liberated from Jake’s closet the night before. “I’m going to finish restoring it. Then I’ll send it back to him.”

Kira just looked at her.

“Fine, I’m a codependent junkie. I can’t stand to think of it moldering away in a drawer for another decade. I can fix timepieces, unlike people, with my love and attention.” Brighton got to her feet and collected her bag. “I’m going. Here I go.”

Kira walked her to the door. “Drive safe.”

“I always do.”

They hugged and headed out to the white Subaru. Rory followed them and plunked himself down next to the driver’s-side door.

“What do you want me to do about him?” Kira asked.

“I guess I should take him back to the guesthouse where he doesn’t officially live.” Brighton kissed that giant, furry head, then unlocked the car door. Rory leaped in and somehow managed to wriggle over the console into the backseat. He stared at Brighton, tongue lolling and tail wagging.

“I think he wants to go with you,” Kira said.

“I want him to go with me, too.” Brighton nibbled her lower lip. “But I can’t kidnap Jake’s dog. That’s unconscionable.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call this kidnapping,” Kira said. “He’s clearly a willing volunteer.”

They both regarded the slobbering beast with the golden eyes of an angel.

“Jake did say I could have anything I wanted,” Brighton mused.

“I think if you want the dog that much, he’d want you to have him,” Kira said. “And he did refer to him as a squatter.”

Brighton slipped into the driver’s seat and turned on the car’s ignition. “I’ll text him to let him know Rory’s joining me. Once I’m safely across state lines.”

She closed her eyes and held on to the warm steering wheel, hoping that if she could just hold her breath and wait long enough, the pain would recede.

Kira rapped on the window. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine.” Brighton opened her eyes, glanced at the gas gauge, checked her mirrors, and started back to the land of corporate meetings and ten-year plans. As she merged onto the highway, abiding by all traffic signs and speed limits, she waited for a rush of relief that never came.