“Tough day?” A man sat down next to me, looking as if his night had been as rough as mine. His suit was rumpled, his jaw unshaven, eyes bloodshot, as if he hadn’t slept for a few days.
“Yeah, you could say that,” I muttered. A quick glance in the mirror behind the bar showed me I didn’t look any better than he did.
“I just sat on a plane for two hours, only to have them announce there was an issue with the aircraft and I have to take a later flight.”
“That sucks, man.”
“Yeah. Better than finding out there was a problem in the air, I guess.”
I could see his point.
He sat back and sighed heavily. “For a moment, I thought fate might be giving me a break. I ran into a woman here earlier. Thought she might still be here, but I guess not.”
I didn’t respond. Nothing against the guy, but I really wasn’t interested in his problems when I had enough of my own.
“She had the most amazing eyes,” the guy continued. “Sometimes, they looked like sapphires, and other times, like amethysts.”
I stilled, then turned to look at him. “Amethysts, huh?”
He nodded. “And her hair. Golden on top, deep cherry red underneath, like living flames.”
He was talking about Eva.
“You talked to her?”
“Yeah, a little. It was more like silent, mutual commiseration than a conversation. She was having a lousy day, just like me. Guy trouble, I think. If you ask me, whoever let a woman like her walk away is a fucking idiot.”
No argument there.
“Did she happen to say where she was headed?”
He shook his head. “No, but wherever it is, I hope she finds what she’s looking for.”
I dropped a few bills on the bar, paying for his drink as well as mine. Ignoring his thanks, I went back to the gate and waited for my flight.
Chapter 18
Dear Ida,
I’ve just made one of the hardest decisions of my life and I’m sick about it. My head says I’m doing the right thing, but my heart says I’m a fool. – Torn & Confused
* * *
Dear Torn & Confused,
Listen to your heart. If you’re still on the fence, try reaching out to the people who love you, especially family members who may have been in a similar situation and want to see you find happiness.
~ * ~
Eva
The drive to New York City was about six hours, according to the GPS. I didn’t mind. That was six hours to myself where I could think and hurt and feel without having to maintain a mask.
It had been a long time since I’d taken a road trip and even longer since I’d taken one along such a scenic route. It was a clear night, the almost-full moon shining down and casting everything in a cool, silvery glow. Upstate and Central New York was a lot like the small town I’d grown up in, adding a pang of homesickness to my heartbreak.
I tried listening to the radio but turned it off when the block of Dark Wing songs made tears well up and blur my vision. Hearing Jace’s deep voice coming through the speakers, as rich as it was powerful, reminded me of why my decision was the right one. He was simply too good at what he did to do anything else. I couldn’t be selfish, and I’d certainly never want him to walk away from what he loved. Nor could I live a life of waiting in the wings for inevitable disappointment.
Rather than dwell on what I’d left behind, I tried to focus on where I was going. I hadn’t seen Soraya in years. She was by far my favorite cousin, even though she was several years younger than me. We’d bonded early on when her dad left her mother for another woman, and Soraya and her mom and sister had come to stay with us for a while.
Until then, I’d liked my uncle Frank. But after hearing about how’d he left my aunt for a widow and was more interested in being a father to her children than his own, I hated him almost as much as Soraya did. I wasn’t alone. What Frank had done polarized the family, and sides had taken up along expected boundaries.
But out of that, Soraya and I had formed an instant and lasting bond. She was a curvy Italian girl, too, with a free spirit and a voracious passion for life that our parents didn’t understand. Her dream had been to finish college and travel the world. Mine had been to be the next Annie Lennox or Lita Ford. Life didn’t work out that way for either of us though. She’d become an assistant to a legendary advice columnist—definitely not her dream job—and I’d become a single mother and taken a job behind the stage instead of on it.
We didn’t see each other often, but we did keep in touch. As I was older, she’d sometimes reach out to me when she needed someone to talk to, someone who understood. We called each other on our birthdays and around the holidays. And, of course, there were my occasional emails to Ask Ida.
Soraya also kept me up-to-date on family stuff. I needed that, more than anyone knew. She was the sole remaining secret link to my past, a past that had admittedly been pretty great up until I broke my parents’ hearts.
Mostly, I admired her ability to be herself and to not give a damn about what anyone else thought. She always encouraged me to follow my dreams. And when things hadn’t quite worked out the way I’d planned, she never once condemned me for my life choices.
Now, she was with Graham Morgan! I didn’t know him personally, but I did know his company, Morgan Financial Holdings. Not only did they handle Ross’s and my personal investments, but we recommended them to many of our clients as well.
The only thing that mattered to me was that he made Soraya happy.
The longer I drove, the more keenly I felt the tug of mental and physical exhaustion. When driving with the windows open and singing at the top of my lungs were no longer effective, I pulled off into a rest area and allowed myself a few hours of sleep. I was sad, yes, but I was neither suicidal nor homicidal.
It was nearly dawn by the time I got into the city, still too early for an unexpected visit. I walked around to kill time, taking in the sights and fighting the urge to bury my sorrows beneath piles of carb- and sugar-laden goodness.
Some people lost their appetites when they were stressed out. Not me. The scent of fresh-baked pastries in the cool morning air was like a siren’s call, probably a direct result of my childhood. I stayed strong, opting for a skinny latte and one of the protein bars I carried with me everywhere.
Once it got to be a reasonable hour, I texted Soraya, telling her I was in town and asking her if she wanted to meet up. Her response came immediately—a screaming emoji followed by an address on the Upper West Side and an offer to have a driver come and get me.
I passed on the private driver, opting to walk it when I saw that it wasn’t too far.
Soraya had always been striking, but the woman who answered the door was breathtaking. Beautiful and vibrant, she radiated happiness.
Her long, straight black hair was hot pink at the tips today, which I knew meant she was in love. Years earlier, she’d taken to dyeing her hair different colors to match her outlook at any given time. Blue was good, red was bad, and purple was for those times when she couldn’t quite decipher what she was feeling. I thought it was brilliant and applauded her for being so in touch and transparent with her emotions.
A tiny white dog came running at us, yipping excitedly.
“Don’t mind Blackie,” Soraya said, scooping him up into her arms. “He’s very friendly.”