Say It's Not Fake

“Kyle, don’t. Please. This is hard enough—”

“Then come home. Katie needs you. I need you.” I was playing dirty. Maybe that wasn’t fair. But I couldn’t let her leave. Not like this. Not when we were so close to having everything we wanted.

“I’m sorry, Kyle. I can’t be what you want me to be. I’ll talk to you soon.” Then she hung up.

I squeezed my phone in my hand and let out a loud roar.

“Webber? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” I looked up to see Skylar standing there, poised ready to strap me into a straitjacket if need be.

“No. I’m not alright,” I said. Skylar opened her mouth, and I shook my head. “Katie’s fine. It’s not her. It’s Whitney. I need to get to her. Now.”

“What about Katie?” Skylar frowned.

I dug around in my pocket for my keys, then remembered Josie had driven to the hospital. My truck was still parked in the middle of town. “Shit, can you drive me to the airport? I have to stop her.”

“Um, sure. What else do I have to do today?” Skylar shrugged.

“Wait here. Let me tell my parents where we’re going.” I ran back into the hospital. Katie was awake and chatting merrily with my parents.

“Hey, Bug.” I breathed a sigh of relief at her big, bright eyes. I carefully kissed her head and gave her a light squeeze. “You look a lot better.”

“Whity! Whity!”

My chest felt tight. “I’m going to go get Whity, okay?”

Katie nodded and tried to clap her hands, which was hard with the cast. “Whity!”

“Mom, Dad, can you stay here with Katie for a little? I have to go get Whitney.”

Dad seemed confused. “Where is she?”

“At the airport,” I let out in a breath.

“The airport? What’s going on?” Mom demanded.

“It’s a long story, but I have to stop her from making a mistake. I have to keep her here.” I sounded panicked.

“Whity!” Katie yelled again, more indignantly this time.

“I don't understand, but this little girl needs Whitney. And you do too. Go.” My mother shooed me from the room. I gave Katie another kiss and then all but ran back to where Skylar was waiting for me.

She had pulled her car up in front of the emergency room. She honked her horn. “Get in!” she yelled.

I hopped in, and we headed toward the airport.

I only hoped we got there in time.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?” Skylar asked once we had pulled onto the highway. We were about an hour away from the airport. I didn’t know what time Whitney’s flight was. I wouldn’t be able to get through security. Crap, I hadn’t really thought this through.

“I have to talk to Whitney. She’s getting on a plane to Hungary.” I bit on my thumbnail, a habit I hadn’t indulged in since I was in elementary school.

“Hungary? Wasn’t she just in a freaking car accident? What the hell is up?” Skylar pulled out in front of an eighteen-wheeler, cutting them off. The truck laid on its horn, and she flipped off the driver in the rearview mirror.

“She blames herself. Thinks she can’t be trusted with Katie. I don’t know. I think Josie said some shit too. God, it’s all such a mess.” I ran my hands through my hair. I needed a shower. And sleep. But all that would have to wait.

Skylar glared with her eyes trained on the road. “Fucking Josie Robinson. I never could stand that bitch and her simpering sweet act around you and how she’d go jealous shrew anytime another woman was in the vicinity. I hope you nail her ass to the wall in court.”

“I just care about keeping my kid. And my wife,” I muttered.

Skylar’s phone rang, and I saw Robert’s name on the screen. She quickly sent it to voicemail.

“Robert? As in Jenkins?” I asked, raising my eyebrow.

Skylar’s shoulders stiffened. “We’ve been talking. But that’s over now. He’s too ... I don’t know.” She huffed in frustration.

“He’s too ‘I don’t know’? What does that mean?” It was nice to focus on someone else’s messed up love life for a bit.

“You know I'm not the most emotionally open person around,” she started to say, and when I snorted, she threw a nasty glance my way. “I don’t want to hear it, Mr. I’m Chasing my Fake Wife to the Airport.”

“Touché. Sorry. Carry on.”

“We’ve been talking. Nothing more than that. He’s an interesting guy—”

“Really? He always came across as kind of a dud to me,” I added.

“That’s the thing, the first impression of him is really different from who he is. Did you know he holds the record for the quickest single person trek along the Appalachian Trail?”

“Shit, really? That’s kind of impressive,” I admitted.

“And he holds a patent for this app that is meant to increase interaction among senior citizens and decrease elder isolation. It’s reduced senior suicides by 30%.”