The flight attendant’s chipper English accent should make me feel better. After all, she just uttered my two favorite words: New York.
But in my chest, my emotions are a ball of twisted yarn, the kind you can’t unravel.
Am I sweating?
I feel like I should be.
Instead, my stomach is jumping.
Licking my lips, I stare out at the tarmac as we begin to taxi, but the view doesn’t soothe me. Jerking my gaze away, I let out a long, heavy breath.
The gray-haired lady in the seat next to mine shoots me a sympathetic smile. “I’m a nervous flier too,” she says.
I try to smile back, but I feel like my lips are cracking my face.
I grab my phone from my jeans pocket, click on my texts, and tap out a note to Emerson. As Heath suggested, I’d told her and the guys that I was coming. We’re meeting for dinner in Chelsea, at one of our favorite spots. Maybe when I see them I can sort out all these what ifs. Far too many thoughts ping pong in my head.
Emerson: Made an executive decision. I’m going to meet you at your hotel and we’re spending the afternoon together. Girl time! And that’s my official declaration.
That makes me feel a little better, but not by much. I’m out of sorts, twisted upside down. New York is my love, my home, my place. But already I adore my job in London. And I already miss Heath. The biggest what if of all.
Jo: Good. I need it. I’m kind of a mess.
Emerson: Talk to me.
Jo: I might lose service soon, but I’m feeling . . . conflicted.
Emerson: Because you love him.
My emotions crawl into my throat and stay there in a huge, uncomfortable knot.
Jo: Yes.
Emerson: Oh, sweetie. That’s so hard. You leave home, take a chance, go out on a daring adventure. And then you met your dashing Englishman.
Jo: That sounds like a novel.
Emerson: Tell TJ to get on it.
Jo: I will. And then TJ can tell me the ending.
Emerson: Or maybe you can. How do you want it to finish up?
Her question is the question. If I get the job will I ask him to move with me? Would he? And can I even ask? His family lives in England. They’re getting older. Plus, he urged me to interview, but then didn’t want to come to New York with me. So maybe he doesn’t want to move. And we’ll have to find a way through long distance. But what do I want? Do I want this job in New York if I get it, or do I want the job and the life I have in London?
For the first time in ages, I wish my mother were here, that I could ask her what to do. What would she say?
I close my eyes, another tear slipping down my face. I don’t even know anymore. I can’t hear her voice any longer.
The plane taxis, picks up speed, then lifts off.
We soar into the sky, and the city skyline turns into a series of specks far off in the distance.
And just like that, London fades from view.
A little over seven hours later, I arrive at JFK and make my way through security, opening the app to order a Lyft. But when I look up, I see four familiar faces on the other side of the cordon.
I run to my friends—my family. They’re why I came to New York.
26
HEATH
Museums are not some of my favorite places to be on a Sunday in London. Or any major city, for that matter.
Too many crowds.
Too much jostling.
Too little time with the art.
But I don’t have a choice today. I need to give notice Tuesday. If I’m still giving notice, that is.
If Jo goes to New York alone, will I simply stay at HighSmith? Will inertia win?
No idea, so I return to where my journey started.
Sometime while Jo is in the air, I head to the St Pancras International Station and buy a Eurostar ticket. Once on the train, I settle into a window seat and crack open a book I picked up the other day from Nigel, half photography, half essay.
Along the journey to Paris, I read the travelogue, checking out the photos of rustic European towns, perusing the stories the writer tells of each locale. That keeps me occupied for the two-plus hours, but thoughts of Jo are never far from my mind.
Is she sleeping on the plane? Working? Reading? Talking to her seatmate?
My mind trips along to new questions. What sort of travel companion would she be? And will I ever find out?
Then future questions. What sort of we will there be if she takes the job in America? Will we see each other once a month? Will she ask me to join her? Will I say yes if she does?