30. Jami
Jami
I stand outside Halifax’s Stanfield International Airport, shoulders slumped, eyes swollen and red from a combination of exhaustion and crying.
My carry-on hangs from one hand, my suitcase, full of my new clothing line, rests at my side.
I glance left, then right, my chest tightening.
I have nowhere to go. No one to turn to.
I pull my phone from my bag and open the Uber app. A manic laugh escapes me, drawing strange looks from travelers hurrying to their destination.
Destination…ha.
I’m in my hometown, and I don’t even have a safe haven.
Sure, I could go home, crawl into my childhood bed with my tail between my legs, but after everything I’ve been through, I’m not ready for the lectures, the I told you so’s.
My parents wouldn’t understand. Within a week, they’d probably have me teaching kindergarten somewhere, living a life I don’t want, a life I never asked for.
What life do you want to live, Jami?
I glance around, heart thumping because the life I want I can no longer have.
My gut screams at me to call Lauren. She’s always been my anchor, my best friend…
my constant. But the last time we spoke, it felt like I’d been erased from her life.
Like she’d moved on without me? Or was that just my fear talking?
I suck in a shaky breath and type a quick text:
Me: Surprise. I’m home. Are you around?
It’s Friday morning. Who knows if she’s at work, sleeping after a night shift, or off with friends…maybe even Caleb. My chest tightens with every passing second until the three little dots appear.
Lauren: Just finished a night shift and crawling into bed. You still have your key?
A small wave of relief washes over me. Her text isn’t warm and cozy, not like a text between best friends who haven’t seen each other in a while, but at least I have a place to go. I fumble for the keychain, fingers brushing Lauren’s key, and reply.
Me: Yes. Get some sleep. I’ll hang out until you wake up. Sleep well.
I drop my phone into my bag and lean against the airport wall, exhaling shakily. One small thread of connection. That’s all I have. And somehow, somehow, it’s enough to keep me moving forward.
I call for an Uber. It arrives five minutes later, and I sink into the back seat, staring out the window as familiar streets slide past. Halifax hasn’t changed. Or maybe it has, and I’m the one who doesn’t fit anymore. Every storefront, every intersection pulls at something tight in my chest.
Thirty minutes later, the driver pulls up in front of Lauren’s downtown apartment, tucked close to the hospital. I thank him, grab my bags, and step inside the building, the warmth hitting me all at once. Muscle memory takes over as I pull out my key and let myself in.
The apartment is exactly the same—warm, cozy, welcoming. The faint scent of coffee clings to the air, and the familiar couch sits in its usual place, like it’s been waiting for me. God, I’ve spent so much of my life here. Late nights. Early mornings. Laughter. Tears.
For one fragile second, it feels like coming home.
Then reality settles in. This isn’t my place anymore. This isn’t where I belong.
Exhaustion crashes over me, and I drop onto the sofa, shoes still on, and close my eyes, telling myself it’ll only be for a minute.
The next thing I know, a noise pulls me out of sleep. My eyes fly open, panic flaring before I remember where I am. My heart slows as my vision clears.
Lauren stands in the kitchen. “Hey,” I say, my voice rough with sleep.
She turns and hurries toward me. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t,” I say, pushing myself upright. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“No,” she says quickly. “It was time for me to get up anyway.”
She watches me too closely as I sit up, her eyes narrowing like she’s already cataloguing everything I’m not saying.
“I…I needed to get out of Churchill Falls,” I say, forcing a small laugh as I try not to cry. “Too small for me.”
Lauren tilts her head, that familiar look crossing her face, the one that says she can see straight through my bullshit. “I didn’t mean to just show up like this,” I add, the words tumbling out. “Maybe I shouldn’t have.” I shake my head, my stomach coiling. “I should’ve known from your text.”
“My text?” she asks.
“You didn’t sound happy to hear from me.”
She lets out a short laugh, shaking her head. “Jami, I’d just finished a brutal night shift. And if you want the truth?” She hesitates, then meets my eyes. “I wasn’t happy to hear from you.”
My chest tightens. “Right. Okay.”
Lauren sits on the edge of the coffee table, the soft hiss of the coffee maker filling the silence between us. “The truth is,” she says. “I was hoping you weren’t coming back.”
The words land like a punch.
Oh God.
Am I not wanted anywhere?
“I shouldn’t be here,” I whisper, shame burning hot in my throat. “You’ve moved on.”
I push to my feet, panic urging me to flee before I can fall apart completely, but Lauren’s hand closes around my arm, stopping me. I drop back onto the couch.
“Jami,” she says firmly. “You don’t understand.”
“Understand what?” I demand, my voice breaking despite my best effort to hold it together.
She exhales slowly. “I love you. I will always love you. You’re my best friend. That is never going to change.” Her hand drops, and she gestures toward the window, the city beyond it. “But this… this isn’t where you belong anymore.”
The tears come fast, hot, unstoppable. “I don’t know where I belong,” I admit, the words barely making it past the lump in my throat.
We sit in silence, the weight of it pressing down on both of us. Finally, she breaks it.
“You sounded so happy in Churchill Falls,” she says. “I barely heard from you, and I thought…I took it as a good sign.” Her brow raises. “You…Brody.”
“There is no me and Brody,” I say, the truth cutting deep. “Not anymore.”
Lauren reaches for my hand, her fingers tight, protective. Her eyes flash with anger. “What did he do? How did he hurt you?”
“I…I…” My voice fails.
“Give me his address.”
That pulls a laugh from me, but it’s tangled with a big, ugly sob that rips straight out of my chest. It takes a minute before I can breathe again, before I can even form words.
When I finally do, I tell her everything.
The meeting. Elise. Toronto. The way the past crept up on me wearing a different face.
When I finish, Lauren doesn’t say a word. She stands, disappears into the kitchen, and comes back with two mugs of coffee. We sit side by side, steam curling between us, sipping in silence while she processes it all. The quiet feels heavy, but safe.
Finally, Lauren exhales, letting a fraction of the tension drain from her shoulders. Even though she’s still my friend, I can feel it, her counselor side is flicking on, scanning my words, my tells. “Tristan is a real asshole.”
A broken laugh escapes me, catching painfully in my throat. “Yeah.”
“I say this with love, Jami,” she continues, her voice steady. “But he really messed with your head.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Okay, I will, but I think in here…” She lightly pokes my chest, right around the vicinity of my heart. “I think you do know it.”
“Know what?”
“Brody isn’t Tristan.”
That makes me sit up straighter. Really look at her. “Did you not hear the part where I look just like her? Where we’re both designers? Where they sent me on a wild goose chase just to get me out of the way?” My chest tightens. “That feels…familiar. Too familiar.”
“You said they,” Lauren says gently. She stands, takes my empty mug, and refills it before handing it back to me. “What if it was just Elise?”
I frown.
“From everything you’ve told me,” she goes on. “It doesn’t sound like Brody was part of this. Your brother is one of the best guys I know. Do you really think he’d be best friends with—or open a business with—someone capable of doing something like that? To him… to you?”
“I…” I shake my head, so confused. “Elise and I have so much in common. Not only do we look alike, we’re both designers. I think I was a stand-in.”
“Let me see this woman. Is she on socials?”
I nod and she hands me her phone to do a search. A sound catches in my throat and my stomach sinks when I see she’s tagged in a photo with Brody, Nicola and Susan. “She’s wearing my clothes.” Again it feels all too familiar.
“Ugh, she looks terrible in your clothes. Kidding, you could design a potato sack and it would look good on anyone. Sure, there are similarities, but she’s not you. There’s only one Jami Grant and she’s sitting beside me.” She looks at the photo again. “Wait, is that Nicola Fairfax?”
“It is. Her husband was fishing and she accompanied him. She even took one of my yoga classes.”
“Wow, now she looks amazing in your clothes. I’m going to need a pair of those yoga pants.” She lifts her head, going serious again. “If you were a stand-in,” Lauren says gently. “Don’t you think he would’ve run straight back to her the second she came home and showed interest?”
She’s not wrong. He didn’t go running back to Elise. He stayed. He’d been hurt, sure, but he’d still said they could be friends.
He’s a really nice guy, Jami.
“Maybe,” I begin, though the doubt won’t let go even though my inner voice is battering me. “Maybe he was just expecting her to leave again.”
Lauren studies me, clearly unconvinced. “Or maybe that’s a coincidence, Jami.”
“I don’t know if I believe in coincidences.”
“Maybe he just has a type,” she says. “But what’s on the outside isn’t what matters. And after the stunt she pulled, I think you’d agree that you’re completely different people on the inside.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sure Brody knows that too.”
I nod, letting that settle. “I would never have done what she did to me…or him.”
“Have you heard from him?”
“No.”
She nods slowly, chewing on her lip as she thinks. “You know, past experiences have a way of dragging you to the worst-case scenario. Your mind jumps there before you even realize it.”
I look down at my hands. “Yeah. I know that.”