“We?”
“Yes, we,” she says. “You did this because of me, and she won’t see me either, so we both have apologies to make. But we are going to fix this, Braxton.”
I stare at Selene. “You want me to try to get her back?”
“Of course I do,” Selene says. “I want you to be happy. Honestly, Braxton, I’ve always known you had thing for Kylie, but I figured you just wanted to bang her. But if you love her, you should be with her. That’s kind of amazing.”
A tiny shred of hope worms its way into my mind. Is it possible? Kylie said she never wanted to see me again, but that was because I pushed her away. Do I still have a chance?
I clutch my chest like I need to restart my heart. Fuck, I miss her so much.
I look up at Selene. “Okay, what do we do?”
I take a deep breath to settle the flutter of nerves as I wait for my flight. I look up at the screen. Seattle to London, departing 3:15, on time. I check the time on my phone. I have about ten minutes before they’ll start boarding.
Braxton and I were supposed to go to London for New Year’s. He even bought tickets. When he left me, I didn’t even think about this trip—but a couple of weeks ago I decided to go. I’ve wanted to spend New Year’s Eve in London for years, and I keep putting it off. This year I have extra money from my design clients, so I decided to splurge. I don’t know what happened to the tickets Braxton bought; I’m sure he canceled them. I bought my own, booked a hotel, and now I’m really doing it.
I bring up my dad’s number and hit send.
“Hey, Kylie,” Dad says. “Are you at the airport?”
“Yeah, I’m waiting to board.”
“I want you to have a great time, all right?”
“I will.”
“Be safe,” he says. “I don’t know how I feel about you traveling so far by yourself.”
“Dad, I’ll be fine,” I say. “I’ll be home in a few days.”
“That’s a long way to go for such a short trip,” he says.
“I know, but I need to get back for work,” I say. “And, I don’t know, I have a feeling it’s going to be worth it.”
“It will be,” he says. “Call me when you land.”
I smile. “I will. Love you, Dad.”
“Love you too, sweetheart.”
I hang up, and the announcement for first class boarding blares through the speakers. First class would be great—it’s a long flight—but my splurging didn’t go that far.
I wait for my turn to board, fiddling with the zipper on my purse. I have my whole trip planned out. I’m going to museums, the theater, shopping. I fly home on New Year’s Day, so my last night I’m going to fulfill my silly bucket list item and watch Big Ben tick over to midnight. From what I saw online, there’s a pretty spectacular fireworks show.
I board the plane and take my seat, stowing my purse near my feet, then get out my phone and plug in headphones. I have my new let’s have an adventure playlist all queued up. I tuck a few magazines into the pocket in front of me and sit back, getting as comfortable as I can. I’m going to be here a while.
I glance at my phone, wondering if I should text Selene. I haven’t seen her in weeks, and I made some excuse about not being around for Christmas. She’ll be pretty weirded out to find out I left for London without letting her know. But I can’t bring myself to do it. I miss her, but I know nothing will ever be the same between us. There’s such a huge gulf now, and I don’t know if I can bridge it.
The worst part is, it’s as much my fault as Braxton’s. I lied to her, too.
I lean my head back and close my eyes. I don’t want to think about Braxton, but that’s essentially impossible. He left a hole inside me that no one will ever fill. I miss him so much it hurts, a deep ache that I don’t think will ever go away. Not completely.
I wait while the plane fills, and it isn’t long before we’re taxiing down the runway. I look down at my phone again. He’s not going to call. It’s been six weeks, and I haven’t heard a word from him.
I turn my phone to airplane mode and close my eyes, relaxing as the plane takes off.
“It’s going straight to voicemail,” Selene says. “Should I leave a message?”
“No,” I say. “Not yet. Maybe her phone is dead. She always forgets to plug it in.”
Selene puts her phone down on the counter. So far, our thirty minutes of planning over Scotch has gotten us as far as Selene calling Kylie, since we both know she won’t pick up for me.
After that? I have no fucking clue.
“Should we go over to her apartment?” Selene asks.
I’m buzzing too hard to get behind the wheel. “Can you drive?”
“Good point,” she says. She moves the Scotch out of reach. “We could Uber, but we need to sober up anyway.” She pours us a couple glasses of ice water. “I can text her, and when she charges her phone, she’ll answer. At least then we’ll know we can call.”
“Okay,” I say. “That’s a start.”