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I need to start packing. I still have unused moving boxes in my closet from the last move. While I waited for Sean in his office, I got in touch with Jane Deets, and while it may take some time to find a place I truly love, once I do, I’m going to need to be ready to move at a moment’s notice.
On the drive, I call Pauline. She tells me I did the right thing—as far as selling the hotel is concerned, not breaking off things with Sean. She emphasizes that Sean isn’t Richard. It’s not the response I was hoping for. How I wish I could talk to Norman. But by now he’s basking on a warm, sunny beach with his wife, savoring life to the fullest. Good for him. At least someone made a timely escape.
Once I’m home, I kick out of my heels and fall face-first on the couch with a noise of frustration. In his cage, Pippin flaps his wings and chirps, as if to remind me of his presence, and the fact that I didn’t say my usual “Hello.”
“Everything’s a mess, Pippin,” I tell him, turning in his direction. “Your mom is going through a crisis here, give her a second.”
After unlatching Pippin’s cage, I lie back on the couch with him hopping along my belly. I gently pet him, allowing the feeling of his soft feathers to calm me down like they always do.
I don’t know how long I lie there, but eventually, I hear the faint sound of the elevator doors opening and Sean’s footsteps draw closer.
My heart hiccups.
For half a second, I imagine him coming to my door like he’s done so many times before. Just strolling in with a wink as he undoes his tie.
I picture us together again, our mouths unable to separate, our hands desperately moving over the other’s body.
I can hear him pause, and I stop breathing. I sense Pippin’s excitement, recognizing his buddy’s steps.
But then there’s the sound of the key in his front door, and he enters his apartment.
I let out a shaky breath.
Pippin looks terribly sad, the poor little guy. I shower the cutie pie with pets, kisses, and affection until he starts to feel better.
Mind still a horrible mess, I take a deep breath and sit up. As difficult as this is and as much as I need to figure out, lying here moping isn’t going to help. With shaky hands, I pop Pippin on my shoulder and head to the kitchen to make myself a cup of calming tea.
31
JESS
“We’re going to have to move, buddy,” I tell Pippin, putting a teabag in my cup. I grab an apple and start cutting it into smaller pieces. “We’ll upgrade to a spacious spot, and you’ll get a deluxe, multi-level bird haven. And some friends.” I need to talk to Rose from the pet shelter. “So you don’t miss him too much.”
He ignores me in favor of preening his feathers.
Deep down, I don’t want to move, and of course I don’t want to cut things off with Sean. But the urge to protect myself is greater than my desire to stay. After taking a sip of my tea, I turn some music on my phone and set about packing things in the living room that I’m not going to need for the time being.
It’s bittersweet to say the least. I love my apartment, and I love this building. No matter how much I try to look on the bright side, sadness creeps in. I think about all the fun girls’ nights I’ve had with Pauline, or the lazy Sundays where I stretch out on the couch with Pippin on my shoulder as I read.
Carefully, I pack away my books and the little nick-nacks I have on my shelves. Only a few minutes later do I realize how stuffy and warm it’s gotten. I scoop Pippin up and put him back into his cage so I can open the balcony doors. He squawks in annoyance, but I ignore him and open the double doors, letting a breeze whip through. It’s past eight p.m. and still light out, the temperature in the beautiful mid-seventies. How I love spring. It’s a wonderful time to enjoy the outdoors.
Knock! Knock!
I jump in surprise. I’ve been so lost in thought, I didn’t hear footsteps to my front door. It’s not him. I wouldn’t have missed him. Thinking it might be a neighbor asking me to turn the music down, I quickly shut “I Will Survive” off and cross the room, with an apology on the tip of my tongue.
The diplomatic smile I plastered on my face is gone in an instant.
It’s Sean standing there, a raging storm in his expression.
“Sean? What?—?”
He pushes past me, closes the door, and tosses his jacket to the side as I stumble back and accidentally plop down onto the armchair behind me. “Jess, if you thought I was going to let you throw away what we have, you clearly don’t know me very well.”
I barely register what he says. His steps are sure and purposeful as he approaches me.
“Sean, what are you?—?”
“I didn’t get the chance to present my most compelling argument. That’s why I’m here, and you’re going to listen.”
