Carried Away

For the next three hours, I suffer through some of the most spectacular fireworks I’ve ever seen. There’s something intrinsically romantic about fireworks, which of course reminds me of Jake.

Then I have to suffer through Gray holding Gina’s hand and kissing every single one of her fingertips. They gave up trying to hide it as soon as we got out of the car. It reminds me of Jake. Because everything reminds me of Jake.

By 9 p.m. all I want to do is crawl under Jake’s sheets and breath in his scent. I’ve been doing that on the regular lately, taking hits every couple of hours just to get a piece of him.

Nobody warns you about the withdrawal symptoms. Nobody tells you that detox is more excruciatingly painful than never having known how wonderful real love is.

When Gina drops me off, the lights in the Hemingway are on. My feet can’t carry me fast enough. I race to the threshold of the open door and find him inside. Jake is back––and he’s throwing stuff in his luggage.

“Jake…” My voice is so weak and shaky I barely recognize it as my own.

He pauses the packing and looks at me. His face is blank, remote. I hardly recognize him. At least when he was Scrooge there was some emotion there. This version of Jake, I don’t know. He’s retreated so far back, I’m petrified I may never reach him again.

“I didn’t do it.”

“He knew every detail.” He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. It’s done. I’m leaving. I’m checking out. I’m paid up until August so we’re good, yeah?”

He throws the rest of his work-out clothes in the bag. All black. Sneakers. Sweatpants. Track pants. Underwear. He’s wearing black now. For a man who’s so good with color, he doesn’t care for it in his life.

I take a step closer and he zips up the bag. “Don’t come any closer.”

He sounds so cold, so remote, I stop in my tracks. My heart is beating as fast as a rabbit caught in a trap. I swallow down the fear and sense of loss, but it does nothing to stop the tears running down my face. And once they start, they continue unchecked.

“Please hear me out.”

“I’ve been doing damage control for the past five days…It’s over, Carrie,” he says, without sparing me a single glance.

“Jake. You know me. I love you. You know I would never, ever do anything to hurt you.”

“I know nothing.” His chin lifts and his gaze meets mine. It’s completely shuttered. “I know I told you something no one else on the planet knew, and now it’s everywhere.”

Grabbing the overstuffed duffle bag, he walks past me without touching or looking at me. Like I’m beneath contempt. He doesn’t even pause by the door. He walks right out of my life as if he’d never been the best part of it.

“Are you sure?” Hal looks like he’s in physical pain.

“No. But I’ve got to get out of here and I’ll listen to what they have to say.”

The Huffington Post made me an offer. It’s nowhere near as good as Ben’s was. However, the Post isn’t a rat sucking traitor like Ben is.

I figured out how Ben broke the story. Ben did not break the story…I did.

We rented out the Hemingway a few days after Jake checked out. The new Mr. and Mrs. Elmendurst liked to have vigorous sex in the shower. I heard every single word of their dirty talk from the other side of the wall.

So in the end, Jake was right. It was all my fault.

I’m going back to Cali tomorrow. I can’t stay here now. Too many reminders. Maybe it’s for the best. If love is so fragile, probably best to stay away.

“Sorry about the column.”

Hal smiles. “Don’t worry about the column, but listen here…I’m gettin’ old and tired. One of these days I’m going to retire and nothing would give me more pleasure than to hand the keys over to you.”

I’m crying again. I’ve been doing a lot of that lately. “I’ll think about it.”

I swing by Queen to say goodbye to Gina. As if I haven’t shed enough tears already, her and I exchange a few more.

“I really think he’s going to come to his senses soon.”

She doesn’t know Jake like I do. The man is an iron curtain when he wants to be. “No, G. He’s not.”

Back at the main house, I find my mother sitting outside on the veranda, reading a book.

“Mind if I sit?”

Glancing up, she lifts her sunglasses and smiles. “I would love for you to sit,” she tells me. “Have you heard from him?”

I shake my head. “No. He’s very stubborn. It’s probably one of the reasons he’s so successful at everything he does.”

“Yes, he’s quite impressive.”

“And he did it all on his own…foster kid.”