leave, especially for good this time, without saying goodbye to Sally, the woman who has become like an older sister to me. There are big, messy, snotty tears on both our parts and in the end, I think she only lets me leave because I solemnly promise I’ll come back to visit her soon. Both Sunday and I make sure she knows there’s a standing invitation, complete with a plane ticket, to the west coast. I have a sneaking suspicion she and my aunt will get along great.
There’s one last goodbye that has to be said, so Sunday and I venture out to the back alley together. We hand a note to Mr. Ambrose with mine and Sunday’s cell numbers on it, just in case he ever needs anything, though she and I both know it’s not likely he’ll call us. Sunday also manages to sneakily stuff a few folded bills that I’m pretty sure were hundreds into his coat pocket when she gives him a hug.
Sally promised me she’d keep up the tradition of making sure he gets fed every day, and I know he’ll be as well taken care of as he’ll allow himself to be. He’s been uncharacteristically silent since we came to say goodbye, but his rheumy eyes look sad to see us go, and I’ll miss the old man.
Once back at the car, I choose to sit in the back next to the window. Payne and Sunday slide in beside me, trying to pretend the little standoff between them in my apartment never happened and the sexual tension between them isn’t real. Poe makes no argument about sitting in the front with his dad. However, he does give me a thoughtful and slightly questioning look before facing forward and buckling his seat belt.
The twenty-five-minute ride to the airport in Syracuse is like being caught in a daydream somewhere between awake and asleep. Just as I feel myself start to nod off, something jars me back to reality–a bump on the road, a car horn, snippets of conversation floating around me. Resting my forehead against the dark tinted window, I watch as fall in upstate New York flies past, my mind wandering.
Everything that’s happened could finally be catching up with me, or it could be I’m feeling my exit from New York more than I expected to. Whatever it is, it’s seriously kicking my ass. My heart is aching, and my mind is clouded by melancholy and sudden uncertainty.
Goodbye, New York, this is the end of the line for us. I really hope I’m making the right decision. If you happen to see my mom somewhere, tell her I miss her more than ever.
Unshed tears make the scene that greets us upon our arrival at the airport shimmer and sway in front of me. The SUV rolls to a smooth stop on the tarmac, and I open my door, letting the chilly October breeze dry my eyes as I step out of the vehicle. Silently, I stand in a daze, my mouth agape, and what I’m sure is a look of utter shock on my face before a disbelieving half-laugh chokes its way out of me. Never in my wildest dreams would I have pictured this.
I’m about to board a private jet with my slightly crazy but entirely wonderful best friend and two of the hottest guys I’ve ever seen. Three if you count Mr. Halliday. Things like this don’t happen to girls like me in real life—this is some straight-up Hollywood shit right here.
Sunday materializes beside me and reaches for my hand.
“It’s different being on a smaller plane, Stell, I promise.” Having been privy to exactly how paralyzing my fear of flying can be on our trip out here, I know she’s trying to reassure me.
“Different like we don’t have as far to fall when we crash because we don’t fly as high? So we’ll all die quicker? Because really, it’s the anticipation on the way down that’s terrifying.” Trying to joke my way out of my panic fails miserably, and I feel myself start to hyperventilate. “Doesn’t matter if the plane is smaller, Sun, it’s still a cigar tube with wings, and I’m still trapped. There’s no ‘hey, I want off this crazy ride’ mid-flight.” The weird way I’m breathing is starting to make me feel lightheaded and a little pukey, but I can’t get my lungs under control.
“Well, technically, you could get the plane to land mid-flight if you wanted off, but it