faced straight ahead, only shifting my eyes sideways to acknowledge the clerk—and as soon as he’d rung me up, I snaked my arm around the coffee tub, flicked a five-dollar bill at the clerk, and hightailed it out of there.
“What about your change?” the clerk called after me.
“Keep it,” I called back, without even turning my head, as I blew past the little old man.
Outside, on the sidewalk, I leaned against a post for a second, then I kept staggering on like some kind of fugitive—ready to get myself the hell home before anything else had a chance to happen.
* * *
One block away, as the panic subsided, it hit me at last.
This was happening. This was really happening.
Duncan Carpenter was moving here—had already moved here.
It was real. I was going to have to go to work every day and see him. I was going to run into him on the beach, and walking around town, and, as we now knew for certain, at the grocery store.
Of course he’d be married now to that dull admissions lady from Andrews. Of course he’d have a family. How many kids would they’ve had time for in all these years? Three? Four? A gaggle, at the minimum. Possibly a flock. Of course, of course. He’d be a great dad—carrying them around on his shoulders and giving them airplane rides. And she’d have organized all the kids’ activities on a color-coded family calendar. She’d be a reliable cook, and she’d have exactly one glass of wine every night with dinner … and she would take all her blessings for granted.
I thought of all the school functions where I’d have to look at them, being adorable. At her, good-naturedly tolerating his antics as he walked on his hands, or juggled hot dogs, or fired up a karaoke machine at the back-to-school faculty picnic.
Before I knew it, what had started as an attempt to lean in to the inevitable gave way to a sting of dread so acute I found myself walking faster, like I was trying to get away from myself. Just the idea of it … of being trapped there with them, endlessly bearing witness to their familial bliss as my life fell so tragically short by comparison on every single count …
Oh, God. It was going to be worse than I’d thought.
I had escaped him before. I had given everything up, and moved away, and built a new life. A good life. And now, walking—or maybe more and more like stomping—back, I resented the hell out of Duncan Carpenter for blithely just coming here and ruining it all. And Kent Buckley, for that matter—for hiring him. And Max, too, while I was at it—for leaving us in this situation to begin with.
By the time I’d made it back to the carriage house, there was no escape.
This was my life.
Now, all I could see ahead was misery, as Duncan charmed everybody and filled Max’s shoes as our new favorite guy. Duncan everywhere. Every day. Forever. What would that do to me? Would I wilt? Would I collapse? Would I turn bitter and desiccated and small?
And then it just seemed clear: something had to give.
I may not have had a choice about what Duncan Carpenter did, or Kent Buckley, or even Max. But that didn’t mean I didn’t have any choices at all.
I didn’t have to stay here, passively waiting until the situation became too excruciating to bear. I didn’t have to stand still while my life crumbled away around me. I could do something, could leave sooner rather than later. Skip over the worst of the worst—and fast-forward to the part where I got to start feeling better.
That felt like a great idea.
I could leave.
I didn’t want to leave my life. But I didn’t want to have it taken from me even more.
And that settled it.
Given my choices, this idea looked pretty good. I’d put myself out of my own misery. I’d go into school tomorrow, sit through Duncan Carpenter’s introductory meeting, follow him back to his office. And then I’d take my future into my own hands … and I’d quit.
It was the most heartbreaking good idea I’d ever had.
But there it was: problem solved.
five
It felt like a great idea at the time.
It felt like a great idea the next morning, even, when I woke up by accident two hours before my alarm.
Just—ding—woke up.
I wasn’t powerless. I didn’t have to go into work every day as the misery of unrequited love embalmed the