Misbooked for Love

Chapter 20

20

TOM

Returning to New York feels like stepping back into a life that doesn’t feel like mine. Even with my daughter here, it feels stifling. Clara’s presence still lingers in every corner, a constant reminder of the warmth and laughter I left behind.

I go through the motions on autopilot, picking Ellie up from school or her mother’s house on alternating weeks, heading to the office and planning out travel for the rest of the year. Until one day, three weeks into this sham I’m trying to call a life, everything snaps.

Robert drones on about expansion opportunities and a sponsorship deal that’s been in the works for months. I nod along, but my mind is elsewhere. Clara’s face flashes through my thoughts as I sit in meetings, as I scroll through endless emails, as I shuffle papers that mean nothing to me.

“You’ve been quiet,” my business partner says one gray afternoon, snapping me out of my haze. The street down below looks dreary: people moving fast, clutching their coats and heading inside away from the cold. They all look miserable. “This is a big deal. We need your input.”

I glance at the presentation on the screen. So much corporate jargon that I want to puke. When did this become my life? None of this matters.

“Robert,” I say, standing abruptly. “I need to step out for a minute.”

Robert blinks at me, confused. “We’re in the middle of?—”

“I’ll be right back,” I mutter, already walking out the door. My hands are shaking as I shove them into my pockets, pacing the hallway outside the conference room. The three people inside are looking at me like I’m a lunatic. And I partially feel that way.

This isn’t my life anymore. I thought it was, for years. I thought the traveling and being with the horses—in whatever capacity—it all mattered. But now, this feels like a cage, and the worst part is that I built it myself.

The thought burns through me as I stand there, my breathing shallow and my hands trembling in my pockets. For weeks, I’ve been pretending I can just fall back into this life, as if Clara didn’t change everything. Like she didn’t open my eyes to how much more I could have, if I was brave enough to take it.

I stride back into the room and grab my laptop. Robert looks up, startled and very confused. “What are you doing?” he asks, halfway to standing, almost like he’s about to stop me.

“I’m done,” I say, my voice calm but resolute.

“Done with what?” he recoils, crossing his arms in a defensive way.

“With this. The business, the meetings, the traveling. All of it.” I shove my laptop into my backpack, ignoring his sputtering. “I’m out, man. You can buy me out or I’ll sell my share to someone else. There have to be interested buyers. I’m not doing this anymore.”

“You can’t just walk away,” he snaps, his voice rising. “We’ve built this together.”

“I know,” I say, finally meeting his gaze. “And I’m beyond grateful for what we’ve accomplished, but this doesn’t fit me anymore. I need something different.”

My heart pounds as I step into the elevator, adrenaline like I haven’t felt in a long time coursing through me. For the first time since her , I feel alive.

By the end of the day, I’ve signed an offer on a small plot of land in Southampton, tucked between a golf club and a winery, with a little house and stables that have seen better days and are just enough to start boarding horses. It’s nothing like the sprawling polo fields I once called home, but it feels right. Like the kind of place where I can start over.

And that night, almost as if fate has intervened, a notification pops up.

Sofía

Hey. You don’t know me. I’m one of Clara’s friends. She’s miserable and she’s too afraid to tell you. So I’m helping her a little.

I stare at the message, my heart lurching.

Me

How bad is it?

Sofía

Bad enough I’m DMing you.

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. Here I am, spinning my wheels, too scared to reach out and she’s feeling the same way.

I close the app and stare at the ceiling, my thoughts racing. I’ve spent weeks trying to convince myself that it was just a fling, that we were just two people in the right place at the wrong time. And that she couldn’t possibly be feeling the same things I was feeling for her, because it’s more than that. More than a vacation fling or a misbooking gone wrong.

I grab my phone again and open a new conversation. My fingers hover over the keyboard, the words forming and reforming in my mind. I hit send before I can overthink it, my heart pounding in my chest.