The Last Goodbye - Abby McCarthy Page 0,2

realized that he couldn't see me. "Remember, you promised, Ty."

"Are you sure this is what you really want? He loves you."

I could feel my throat getting tight. I'd done so well by not crying in so long.

"Ty," I sighed out his name.

"All right, I just think..."

"I'm hanging up now," I said, almost croaking that out.

"Okay. Listen, I'll text you when I know for sure."

"Bye, Ty." I tapped end without waiting for a response. It all felt too overwhelming.

I slid my phone into my purse and glanced at the man next to me. His eyes met mine, "Was that your boyfriend?"

It was a little presumptuous for him to ask the question, but I shook my head no.

"I'm sorry, it just sounds like you're having a rough morning?"

"You have no idea," I responded.

"Look on the bright side. The sun's shining."

I looked out the window and noted it was going to be a beautiful day. "You're right, and it's a nice day."

"Sorry, I don't know you. You don't know me. Maybe you think all this stranger talking to you business is a bit much, but I can't really help it, see my mom's a hippie."

I wondered briefly what in the world he was going on about.

"Anyway, she taught me that when things seem bad, look around you for the good. The sun shining is always good."

I didn't know this man, but I admired the way he openly shared.

"What's your name?" I asked, which I never do.

His face softened, and there were small creases around his mouth as he smiled. "My name is Jet. What's yours?"

The smallest amount of guilt passed through me, and I pushed it aside. "Jet?" I asked because it was a peculiar name.

"Like I said, mom was a hippie, and Dad, well, Dad did the seventies. You know, I usually save this story for the first date." He said with levity to his voice, then studied me for a second. "What do you say?"

He talked rapidly, leaving me confused about what he was asking. My name, right? "Oh, sorry. I'm Lola."

"Well, Lola, what do you say? Can I tell you all about how a hippie and a Travolta-wannabe made a Jet?"

"Oh," I said, shocked. I was not picking up on the fact he was flirting at all. I rubbed my ring finger where my ring used to be, unsure of how I was feeling.

"Not the dreaded, ‘oh.’"

"I'm sorry, Jet. You seem like a really nice guy, but I'm–well–I'm complicated."

"I'll tell you what? When you un-complicate things, call me."

He handed me his card, and it surprised me to see he was an audio engineer for Sound Machine Recording Studio.

"Sound Machine, huh? I'm in accounting at Black Label." I worked for a music label and often paid invoices from Sound Machine.

"Small world. See how much we already have in common?" Gosh, he was charming. Something about his carefree nature put me at ease.

The train stopped, and we all moved slightly forward as it lost momentum. "Well, this is me. I hope you'll call me when life gets less complicated." He tilted his head to the side, pondering his next words as I stood to let him out. "Come on, Lola, one date."

I had the smallest flutter low in my belly at Jet, saying my name. I shook my head, "We'll see. Nice to meet you. Oh, and Jet, you enjoy that sunshine."

"The sunshine's not what brightened my day." He left, and I found myself smiling. I usually shot men down right away, but something about how he shared so freely left me feeling intrigued. I could feel the lingering guilt that wanted to return full-force. It would consume my thoughts if I let it, and I couldn't do that. It had been years; long, hard years. I briefly wondered what it had been like for Lincoln, and I hated that my mind traveled there again. I usually did a good job of keeping my mind off of him, but today it seemed impossible. I tried to think of Jet and his carefree demeanor, but it was useless. No matter where I told my thoughts to go, they eventually led directly to Lincoln.

I got off at Union Station, and the bustle of people, like always, astounded me. I placed Jet’s card in my purse and headed to the office, which was on the forty-seventh floor of the Hancock Building. The street seemed busier than usual at this hour. I walked down Michigan Ave, and once I got to the Hancock Building, I greeted

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