Best Kept Secret (Rochester Trilogy 3)

I fold a pair of yoga pants and put them into the suitcase.

It seems like the obvious choice, going back to Houston. It’s what I know. Maybe it’s even the smartest thing, to go back to a place I know. But I’m certain of one thing, and it’s that my old life won’t work for me. I’ll never go back to the old apartment with my roommates. I could find somewhere else to live in the city, but that would mean explaining it to Noah.

It would mean admitting to him that I should have made a different choice.

I’m not going to admit it to him, and I’m not going to admit it to myself. I made the right choice. It was absolutely right to come back here with Emily. It was the only way this tangle of past wrongs could be fixed.

A shirt goes into the suitcase. It’s almost meditative, the folding and the smoothing. This is how a person prepares for a new life. She arranges her things in a way that will survive the trip. The fabric feels good in my hands. It’s all expensive. Everything Beau bought me. I said I’d pay him back and I never did. That’ll have to wait, too. Until I can make some money of my own. I’ll need a job.

In the end, all of this means I’ll still need a degree. In-state schools are cheaper, but there’s no requirement I go back to Houston. I could go anywhere, enroll in community college, and stay for as long as it takes to get residency. Then—

Then—

I’m going to miss him every day. No matter where I go. I’m going to miss Beau so much I can hardly breathe. I already miss him, and he’s just downstairs. I’m going to miss Paige. I’m going to miss this glimmer of a new life I had with them both.

Kitten pads into the room and winds herself around my ankles. I’m going to miss her, too. She’ll be all grown up soon. I reach down and pat her soft fur. Her heartbeat thrums underneath her skin. They’ll all move on without me. I won’t be missing from their lives in the same way they’ll be missing from mine.

That’s okay. I try to tell myself that it’s okay. I try to comfort myself with the things we used to say in the foster home, Noah and I. That nothing is permanent. We’re just on our way somewhere else. This too shall pass.

This ache I have for Beau—it won’t go away. I’m going to have to learn to live with it.

I can’t decide if I want to go somewhere harsh and cold and unrelenting so that the weather consumes me, or somewhere absolutely beautiful so that I can never have to think about it. Ironically, the one place I want to stay is Eben Cape. It felt so unfamiliar when I got here. I was all wrong for it, and I thought I’d never fit in. But now I’m dressed for the occasion. I have everything I need to make a life here except a good reason to stay.

Ruining a beautiful family is not a good reason to stay.

Another shirt into the suitcase. I break the trip down into small pieces. I’ll need an Uber to the airport, and then a plane ticket. One thing I’ve never done, one thing I’ve never had the money to do, is to decide on a random destination when I’m already at the airport. Only rich people get to do that.

I have the money. It’s waiting for me. If I’m doing this, if I’m going to give Beau and Emily and Paige the happiness they deserve, then it takes the guilt away from using some of the money for me.

That’s what I’ll do.

I’ll finish packing my suitcase. Everything will be neat and tidy and ready to go. I’ll call an Uber. I’ll slip out while they’re putting Paige to bed. I’ll have him drive me to the airport and I’ll choose from all the available destinations. There might be a wait, a long stretch with an airport coffee and a magazine I won’t read, but the waiting is part of the process. It’s when you let all your expectations go.

The plane will arrive, and the attendant will check my ticket, and I won’t be alone, not really. There will be other people around me as I walk down the jetway to the plane. I’ll find my seat. I’ll stow my luggage. I’ll let myself think of Beau and Paige one more time and hope they’re not thinking of me. I hope they won’t miss me. I’ll hope they’ll be so happy that I never cross their minds.

And then I’ll fly away.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Emily Rochester

I have my daughter in my arms again. She clings to me, curling into my lap, and what else am I supposed to care about? Everything, I suppose. A previously dead woman can’t hang out in an inn that she’s not renting.