devastation of how things had ended.
The image of Madden, his dark eyes wounded by my rebuke, haunted me.
Occasionally, a man would enter the café and as the little bell tinkled when the door opened, my heart would speed up and I’d find myself hoping to glimpse him, see his eyes, find him smiling at me the way he did sometimes.
That smile was almost worth the pain.
But there was no use dwelling on my conflicted emotions over Madden Cross. He was surely moving on by now, and I had bigger problems to deal with.
Jacob might be coming. Jacob might already have seen the news, seen my face in pictures and articles.
The mere thought of it chilled me to the bone. But I needed to wait and bide my time, so that the paparazzi wouldn’t catch me going back to my motel room to gather my things.
Finally, enough time had gone by and I was sick and tired of drinking tea and stalling. I was afraid to go back to the motel, but it had to be done.
I got up and tossed my plastic cup into the trashcan and then left the café, the chime ringing as I left.
My stomach was in knots as I walked the few blocks back to the motel, wondering what would be waiting for me. But the lot was surprisingly empty of the crowd of media and photographers that had been there earlier.
Maybe, having seen us show up and then depart had caused the paparazzi to go searching elsewhere.
But now the lot was empty and dark and poorly lit. It felt unsafe in a different way and I shivered a little bit.
My car was only three spots away from the entrance to the motel room, so all I needed to do was quickly grab my bag and I could leave for good.
The room was dark when I let myself in.
A faint odor of disinfectant hung in the air. The rest of my belongings were in a small bag that I’d tucked up in the far corner of the closet. I didn’t turn on any lights, too afraid that someone might see them (if there were any paparazzi lurking around still outside), so I made my way to the back of the room using the sliver of light coming in from the thick drapes.
My birth certificate and passport, my phone--which I’d turned off as soon as I left Maine so that Jacob couldn’t track me--and my laptop. Pictures of my grandmother and me in an album I’d taken from our apartment right after she died. A diamond ring that she’d worn every single day of her life that had been given to her by my grandfather.
My worldly possessions, all in one small bag.
I pulled it down off the shelf and slipped the strap over my shoulder. With any luck, my car would make it quite a few miles tonight before I needed to stop and find another place to hide out and regroup.
I turned away from the closet and froze. The shape of a man stood in the doorway, backlit by the light from the parking lot. My hands shook.
“Hello sweetheart.” Jacob’s familiar voice sent chills down my spine. “Your car was here. I was hoping you’d come back so I didn’t have to chase you all over Boston.”
He stepped inside and the door clicked shut. The sound echoed in my head. I took a step back and my leg bumped the bed, causing me to stumble. He stood between me and the door. The only way out.
Jacob turned on the small lamp next to the door and I finally saw his face. At one time I thought he was the most handsome man I’d ever seen. He was attentive and giving and took care of my after my grandmother died. He was everything I thought a man should be. It wasn’t until much later that I saw the coldness in his eyes.
“What do you want?” I stammered. I had nothing to defend myself with. Everything in the room was bolted down to prevent it from being stolen.
“You, Skylar. Always you.” The way he said it, the cold tone of his voice, made my stomach drop. “Imagine my surprise when I read that you were engaged only a week after you left me and disappeared without so much as a word.” Jacob sat down in the chair next to the door and propped his ankle on his knee. He stared at me but I couldn’t see his eyes