One More Time

We should be enjoying this kind of happiness, just like Tommy and Ana.

“There are other fish in the sea, you know,” Tommy said. “You’ll find someone.”

“I’m fine either way. Maybe it’s better off this way,” I said.

“Don’t talk like that, man. You’re a good guy. Some girl will come along and sweep you off your feet.”

“She already has,” I said. “Now, go on your date. I’ll be waiting for a phone call tomorrow.”

“You sure you don’t want me to stay? I could cancel with Ana.”

“Nope. I’m not letting you do that. This whole look? The tailored suit and the excited grin? It looks good on you. Go have fun. Tell Ana I said hello.”

“I’ll tell her. I could see if she would route Chanel a message if you want?” he asked.

I considered the offer, turning it around in my head. But I knew there was nothing I could say that would make Chanel seek me out now. I pushed the offer away and shook my head, then held my hand out for Tommy to shake.

“Good luck,” I said.

“You too. I’ll call you tomorrow, all right?”

“I’ll be waiting,” I said.

Waiting alone in my dark apartment for my best friend to tell me how his date with Chanel’s best friend went.

CHAPTER 35

CHANEL

I sat at my laptop, mindlessly listening to the conference call that was going on. I had spent three days at Ana’s apartment before I made my way back to my own. When I finally got back to work, I had an email from the editor of the Miami Herald. She was wanting me to do a piece on homelessness in the city, and for a brief moment, it got my mind off the chaos of the cruise. We emailed back and forth while I kept posting on my blog, fulfilling my follower’s needs without divulging everything that had happened on the cruise. I shared my brief journey with Rhett and talked about the importance of closure. I talked about heartache and how memories can always sting. I talked about how love can quickly turn into an obsession and hurt the one you were wanting to love in the first place, and I even talked about how sometimes walking down memory lane is necessary for moving forward.

I had more hits on my blog than ever before, and more people were linking back to it in blogs of their own.

But n

ow, I was part of an official conference call to brainstorm this piece on homelessness throughout Miami. They wanted it to be a thought-provoking piece with hard-hitting statistics that really got people’s attention. They wanted me to gather the percentage of homeless children and elderly. They wanted me to look into the systemic problem of poverty and how our country actively worked to make sure they stayed poor and on the streets. I took notes as best as I could, throwing out ideas whenever they peeked through my distracted mind.

But my thoughts were on Rhett and the revelation that had occurred at the end of the cruise.

I wondered what he was up to, what his life was bringing him, and if he was okay. I did as much research on him as I could and found he still lived in the Miami area, but where in the area was still unknown. I didn’t have his number or an address, not even a place of work I could call to try and get in touch with him. I had no way of telling him I knew the truth and no way of contacting him to make sure he was okay. It hurt knowing that and knowing I had all the pieces in play and I couldn’t even notify the one person to whom it made the greatest difference.

What I’d found out changed everything. It reaffirmed my trust and faith in him. That foundation that I thought was so splintered and cracked was only a mirage. He had done nothing to sway my trust back then, and he sure as hell hadn’t done anything now. All the appearances of Evelyn had been a coincidence, one massive coincidence that played against us because I didn’t know the full story.

I was an idiot for not seeing it earlier and for not cornering her on the cruise and investigating shit further.

“Miss Mathews, are you listening?”

“Yes, I’m sorry. You said something about word count, but I didn’t quite catch it,” I said.

“There is no official word count, but don’t write a book on it. You’ll be paid fourteen cents per word, but we’ll bat the article back and forth a bit to make sure it’s tailored and edited to fit our standards and the rhythm our readers are accustomed to.”

“Understandable. When is this piece supposed to run?” I asked.

“Not for another couple of months. We’re lining it up with the introduction of a new local foundation whose focus is the homeless community. Your article will be front and center, so it needs to be good.”

“Front and center, got it. And I just want to say thank you for the opportunity. It means a great deal,” I said.

“We’re lucky to have you writing for us. You have quite an online following. We’ll expect you to advertise this somewhere on your blog to drive traffic to your article.”