Chapter 31 Abby #2
“He’s leaving this afternoon,” she says. “One o’clock. JFK.” She lets the moment hang. Then, with a glint in her eye, adds, “If you’ve got any more of that ballsy energy left and wanted to catch him before he leaves.”
A slow smile pulls at my lips, but I can’t tell if it’s gratitude or panic. Maybe both.
I nod. “Thank you,” I say.
Then I walk out like a zombie with a mission. A very confused, wildly spiraling zombie.
Back in my office, I stare at my computer screen like it might give me answers. It doesn’t. He’s really… leaving. I drag my fingers through my hair, the promotion forgotten, the world still spinning. I try to force myself into productivity, working through a few emails like a robot.
The clock becomes my worst enemy: 9:20 a.m. 9:45. 10:10. Every few minutes, my eyes dart back to the time like it’s some kind of emotional countdown clock.
What are you doing? I ask myself. He made his decision. He left. He didn’t tell you. He’s probably on his way to the airport now.
I close my eyes. This isn’t some rom-com where the girl runs to the airport in a grand gesture and magically gets waved through TSA without a ticket because of love.
No. This is real life. In real life, you can’t get to your fake-boyfriend-turned-real-love before his flight unless you are the TSA. Or the President.
Still, I could… call him or text him. Something. Anything.
A knock at my open doorway jolts me out of the doom-scroll in my head. Manny steps in, Tanya hovering just behind him like a human exclamation point.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hi!” Tanya wiggles her fingers in a little wave.
Their timing is perfect; the vortex in my brain loosens a notch.
“Hey, guys,” I manage, even forcing a smile.
Manny moves closer, worry lines pinched between his brows. “Congrats on the promotion,” he says.
I glance at Tanya. She lifts both hands in mock surrender. “I can’t help it if I eavesdrop,” she giggles.
“Thank you,” I say, then notice Manny still rubbing his palms together like he’s trying to warm them over a campfire. He clearly has more to say.
“What’s going on, Manny?” I ask with a lifted eyebrow.
He exhales, eyes turning to the hallway then back to me. “I was told not to say anything,” he admits. “But I want to.”
“Then just tell me,” I quip.
He hesitates, dragging a hand through his hair.
“Manny,” I press.
He finally blurts it out. “Jonathan’s leaving today. He’s moving to Boston and I think… I think he still loves you.”
I blink, trying to process words that hit like fireworks and ice water all at once. “You do?” My voice comes out small but hopeful.
Tanya bounces on her toes, nodding hard. “Yes, Abby,” she squeals.
My heart slams against my ribs. Hope flares and then sinks. “He didn’t tell me anything,” I whisper. “No text, no call.”
Manny rolls his eyes. “You know Jonathan. He was hurt, bad. Crawling back isn’t his style.”
“I know I hurt him,” I say, then the old bruise rises in my chest. “He hurt me too.”
Understanding dawns on Manny’s face. He looks skyward, exasperated. “That’s because I had a crush on you. He was hiding his feelings so I wouldn’t feel like trash.” He throws his hands up, as if this should have been obvious.
I press my fingers to my temples, brain officially overcooked. Heat rushes to my cheeks; equal parts relief, embarrassment and a spark of something fierce. Jonathan was telling the truth and still loves me. He’s on a one p.m. flight. And I’ve got exactly one chance to fix this.
I stand, chair scudding back against the carpet. “I need to get to JFK,” I say, heart already racing ahead of me.
Manny’s practically vibrating with anticipation, slapping the desk like we just won the World Series. “YES. GET IT, ABBY!”
“Yay!” Tanya hollers, clapping her hands like a delighted Disney sidekick.
I bolt out of my office and rush toward Victoria’s. She’s mid-spin in her pink velvet chair when I burst in.
“I’m heading to JFK!” I shout.
She lets out a laugh, eyes lighting up. “Smart girl,” she says and waves me off like she’s releasing a dove into the wild.
“I’ll take you!” Manny calls, already jingling his keys.
We race to the elevator, Tanya trailing behind yelling, “Text me updates!” as the doors shut.
Manny’s car is, how do I put this? Nimble.
Like, if a Hot Wheels car had a baby with a jet engine.
It’s red, low to the ground and has racing stripes splashed across the sides.
He speeds like he’s in a Fast not hard, just enough to make him pause.
“Jonathan, your phone call with Manny. That morning. I thought you meant it… when you said you didn’t love me,” I admit.
His jaw tightens. I see it, the hurt he still carries. I rush to explain.
“That’s why I didn’t stop Marcus. Not right away. I froze. I thought you never cared about me. But the second I realized how wrong I was, I pulled away. Then you asked me what I wanted and I froze again.” I swallow hard, my voice cracking as I say, “I was an idiot. Please forgive me.”
He doesn’t move. Just stands there, eyes on the floor, my hand still resting on his sleeve and then, too quietly, he says, “I can’t trust that you won’t do something like that again.”
The words slice through me as he gently removes my hand from his arm without ever looking up.
My heart sinks and for a moment, all I can do is stare at him, wishing I could rewind time and do everything differently.
“Jonathan…” My voice trembles. “I love you.”
His back is still half-turned when I say it. I watch his shoulders stiffen like the words hit him anyway.
“I really do,” I continue, stepping closer, heart pounding like it’s trying to launch itself out of my chest. “It’s stupid and quick and na?ve of me, maybe. But I do. I love you, Jonathan.”
He slowly turns around and our eyes finally meet. For a split second I see it; that tiny, shining ember of hope in his eyes that makes my breath stutter.
But just as fast, it disappears.
He exhales, the kind of sigh that carries disappointment, exhaustion and something dangerously close to heartbreak. “Prove it,” he quips, then turns and walks away.
I stand there as the crowd swallows him up, one step at a time.
Each footfall feels like it’s stomping on whatever chance we had left.
I should move. I should say something else.
I should run to him. Because if I don’t do something right now, he’s gone.
Not for the weekend. Not for a business trip. For good.
I take in a deep breath, adjust my wrinkled blouse and decide; no more overthinking. No more freezing. No more silence. I know exactly what I have to do.