Unforgettable (Page 59)

“I’m sorry,” I explain quickly. “I can’t take this flight. I have to get off.”

“But we’re just finishing boarding. Sir? Sir!”

I leave her protests behind as I cut through the influx of passengers and stride towards the cabin door. My chest feels so tight, I can’t breathe, not until I’m racing back up the tunnel and emerging back out into the busy airport lounge.

I don’t have much time.

I break into a jog as I retrace my route, heading for the exit. Determination surges in my bloodstream, propelling me on with every step.

Noelle.

Maybe I’m too late. Maybe I broke us beyond repair, but I won’t just walk away this time.

I can’t.

I need to show her how much she means to me.

I have to make this right.

23.

Noelle.

“Maybe I should have taken the deal.”

I lift my head from a lounger in Juliet’s backyard and look over at my friend. After I spent every waking minute since the flood in a total state of despair, Juliet insisted we take a break from clean-up to hang out at her beach house and try to relax. But it’s impossible to shut off my brain when I can’t see a single solution to my problems—except the one I just turned down.

“It was good money,” I continue with a groan. “Great, in fact. God, I’m so stupid. I threw away my one shot at solving all this mess. Literally! I tossed it in his face.”

“I wish I’d been there to see it,” Juliet chuckles, taking a sip of lemonade. It’s a gorgeous afternoon, but I can’t appreciate the weather when visions of that collapsed ceiling keep haunting my mind.

“It’s not funny!” I whimper. “The insurance guy says Nana’s policy was totally outdated. It won’t cover even a quarter of the cost of the damage. I should have sold the land when I still had the chance.”

“You don’t believe that,” Juliet reminds me. She gives me a sympathetic look. “We’ll get the place cleaned up, and then figure out the rest. Maybe it’ll take some time to get the B&B back on its feet, but you can’t quit now. Not with Bunny Vanderberg’s treasured seal of approval,” she adds.

Rose Cottage is finished, no matter what I do.

I let out another sigh of despair. I would give anything to turn the clock back a week, to when it seemed like the future was shining full of promise; Ash kissing his way down my body as we lay bathed in the morning sunlight; a house full of paying guests that weren’t wading through five inches of water. I had it, I was so close to everything I wanted, and now, it’s all slipped away.

“Would it help to bake something?” Juliet offers. “Just say the word, and my kitchen is yours.”

“Real selfless,” I crack, shooting her a look.

She grins. “Hey, if making triple chocolate cupcakes will help you through this difficult time, then as your friend, I need to support you.”

“Thanks,” I manage a smile, “but I think we’re way past baking.”

I try to lie there and soak up the sunshine, but my brain is buzzing too hard with thoughts of the wreckage—and worse still, Ash.

Why did he have to leave that way?

I know I’m supposed to hate him right now, but the flood makes his hotel plan seem insignificant in comparison. He didn’t ruin things for me in the end; a mix of bad luck and rusted pipes took care of that all on their own.

I try to put him out of my mind, but my heart aches, all the same. I miss him. Maybe it sounds stupid, but I really do. I miss his wit, and his intensity, and the dazzling smile that would flood his features when he forgot to hold back; like a rare gift, just for me. And most of all, I miss the way he made me feel, like absolutely anything was possible.

And now he’s gone.

I sit up with a jolt. “I’m sorry,” I tell Juliet. “I know we were supposed to hang out, but I can’t just sit around here doing nothing.”

“I understand.” Juliet gets up. “When are they coming to suck the rest of the water out?”

“Not until Friday,” I reply, slipping my sandals back on. “I just hope it’s in time to keep everything from being permanently ruined.”

She hugs me. “Is it OK for you to sleep there? You can crash with us here if you need.”

“Thanks, but my studio managed to escape the worst of it. It’s like camping,” I say, trying to be upbeat. “Candles and everything.”

“Well, if you change your mind, just say the word. And Ryland will come by tomorrow, talk about construction options.”

“Unless he can replace the floors, plumbing and drywall for five bucks, I don’t know what use it will be.” I catch myself sounding downcast, and shake my head. “Sorry, I’m just tired. I appreciate it, I really do.”

I leave Juliet’s and walk home. Or at least, to the place I thought I’d get to call home for years to come. But now, I don’t know what the future holds. I could go back to New York and pick up my legal career where I left off; pretend like the past few months never happened.