Don't Promise (Don't 3)

“Of course. What’s going on? You ok?” Emily asked.

They were there, right on the brim of my eyelids—heavy, salty tears. Hearing Emily’s voice broke down the last resistance I had.

“I. Can’t. Talk. About. It.” I steered the car toward the nearest exit. Even in my emotional state, I knew I had to get off the interstate or I would be one of the serial wrecks that Ray told me about.

“Where are you? You sound terrible,” Emily pressed.

I parked at the nearest gas station and dabbed at my eyes with a tissue. My eye makeup was completely ruined. “I just pulled over at a gas station. Oh my God, what’s wrong with me? I’m supposed to be headed in to cover a story.”

“Can you take a few deep breaths?” Emily suggested.

I clutched the steering wheel. “Ok. I can talk again.” I had steadied my breathing.

“Can you tell me about it?”

“No matter what I do, it doesn’t matter what it is. I mean I try, and I don’t talk about it, and I don’t think about it and then—boom—it’s everywhere.”

Emily sounded confused. “Girl, I am not following.”

I exhaled. “Blake. It’s Blake. He’s everywhere. And he’s not supposed to be. I’m in Texas, damn it. I’m as far away from the freakin’ water and his songs, cruises, and sparkly eyes as I can get. He should not be here in my head.”

My chest tightened. “I shouldn’t be feeling this, right? He was a complete ass. He has no patience.” The tears started again. “I mean, do you know how many white trucks there are in Texas? They are everywhere.”

“Oh.” Emily grew quiet. “You haven’t mentioned Blake one time in the past month—not once. I don’t even know how you left things on your last day on the island.”

“Why am I even talking about it now? See? He’s in my head. I’ve lost it. And he should not be in my head. No. I’ve got to get him out.”

“I’m surprised it took you this long to figure it out.” She giggled.

“What?”

“And I think you have this all wrong; he’s not just in your head.”

“This is not funny. I’m miserable,” I whined.

“I’m sorry. Oh, my boss is coming back. I have to go. Can we talk later? I’m going into a meeting, and then we have a press conference. I’ll call you when I’m done.”

“Right. Work. I understand.” I needed to do the same thing.

“So, you, me, and a bottle of wine over the phone after my press conference, ok?”

I smiled. “Absolutely. Thanks. Bye.”

“No problem. Bye.”

I ended the call from my steering wheel, and adjusted my rearview mirror to get a better look at the damage the crying had done to my mascara. Damn it.

I still had ten minutes of road ahead of me before making it to the station. Plenty of time to pull myself together. It felt good to release the breath I had been holding for what seemed like a month.

I slowed the car into the KXMA parking lot and pulled into the closest space to the back door. The satellite trucks were all gone. Must be a busy news day. I reached for my purse as the words of a country song belted out through the radio. Are you kidding me? Of all the country songs on all the country stations, the one I danced to with Blake has to play right now.

I jabbed at the radio button, silencing the song. I’m not dealing with this right now. Pinching my cheeks a few times, and brushing the wrinkles from my suit, I charged into the newsroom.

“Where have you been?” Ray roared over the rows of news desks. “If you don’t get to the scene of the accident now, there’s not going to be any B-roll for you to take and you might as well look like you’re doing any ole traffic story.”

I glared at Ray. “I got here as fast as I could. You called me in on my day off.”

“Whatever.” Ray waved me on. “Get down there before you miss the whole damn thing.”