Chapter Seventeen
“I need a flight to LA, please.”
The woman behind the counter at the Southwest Airlines desk takes my ID and credit card and clicks at her keyboard.
My phone buzzes in my hand.
Liz: What do you mean you’re GOING TO LA?
Some mornings, I wake up with new memories. Usually, they’re nothing important.
“I can get you on a one o’clock flight out,” the woman says, quoting me a dollar figure that would send my rational self running in the other direction. But I’m not feeling terribly rational today.
“Sounds perfect. Put it on the card.”
I went to sleep last night knowing I could forgive Max for his omission. I understood why it would have been hard to tell me about the baby. I could see that. And it hurt. But I closed my eyes, planning to talk to him today, to forgive him for his omission and make things right by telling him what I know about my relationship with Nate.
“Any bags to check?” she asks.
“Nope.”
I went to bed feeling spent and hurt but hopeful. We were going to get through this.
She returns my cards and hands me a boarding pass. “Have a nice flight.”
“Thank you.”
I head for security and my phone buzzes again.
Liz: Max just called me wanting to know if I know where you are. He was really upset. What the hell is going on?
Some mornings, I wake up with new memories. Once, I woke up with the memory of Max flirting with me at Brady’s, my cheeks burning as I realized maybe he was sincere in his attraction to me.
The Indianapolis airport is quiet this morning, and the blue-shirted guy at security checks my boarding pass and ID. “Los Angeles, huh? Business or pleasure?”
“A little of both, I guess.” I force a smile. Because that’s what I do. I smile to make people comfortable. I smile when my heart hurts, and I act like everything’s okay when I’ve been betrayed.
“Think you’ll see any stars while you’re there?” the next guy asks while I take off my shoes.
“I’m almost sure of it.” I plop my carry-on, purse, and cell onto the conveyor belt next to my shoes and inch through the metal detector.
Some mornings, I wake up with new memories. A couple of days ago, I went to bed without a single memory of my opening day at the bakery, and when my alarm went off the next morning, I could recall the terror of my first day with a new business like it was yesterday.
“Thanks, ma’am,” calls the lady behind the metal detector screen. “Have a nice flight.”
Nodding, I grab my shoes and bag. I’m reaching for my phone when it starts to ring. Lizzy’s face flashes on the screen, though I didn’t need to see her picture to know it was her.
I put it to my ear. “Hello.”
“Talk to me.”
“I’m going to LA.”
“And you told your fiancé you couldn’t marry him. What the hell did I miss?”
I scan the signs and turn right to head toward my terminal. “I need to see him.”
“Did you have a new memory? Hanna, come on.”
“I can’t talk about it right now. I understand if you need to close the bakery while I’m gone. You’ve already done more than I should ever have asked.”
“I’ll run the bakery. That’s not a problem.” The line goes quiet, and I know she’s picking up on how serious I am about being unable to talk. We’re twins, after all. We have that connection. And now, more than ever, I’m glad it’s back. Because I really can’t do this. I can’t talk right now. I’ll lose it. “If you want me to come out there with you, you just say the word.”
“Thank you.” My voice glitches over the words like a scratch on a record. “I’ll text you when I land.”
“I love you.”
“Love you too,” I whisper. And I end the call, loneliness tearing at my chest.
Some mornings, I wake up with new memories. Usually, they’re nothing. This morning when I woke up, I remembered the night three months ago when I ended my relationship with Max because he had broken my heart.