I stop dead, and a young woman slams into me from behind. “Sorry,” she says as she scurries away, wincing when she catches my frown.
“Old Harbor?” I repeat.
“She was in the process ofmoving therewhen she met you at the lighthouse and asked why you didn’t want to be with her anymore. I had to hear the play-by-play while Talia talked to her, and I have never been ashamed of you or anything you’ve done until then. I kept my mouth shut because what happens between you and Devyn isn’t my business, but the way you’ve treated her, Rick, it’s contemptable.”
“She’s been in Old Harbor, right under my nose,” I murmur. “The blonde hair, the woman going into the Herald’s office. That was her.”
“It probably was, but I thought you knew and were being a dick about it.”
Feeling a headache coming on, I rub my forehead and say, “I had no idea.”
“So I was only half wrong,” he says, distaste twisting his words.
The day I lied and told her I didn’t love her, the day I told her to go back to Cedar Hill and her fancy job here at the Times, she was already in the process of moving, had already secured a job at the Herald. She’d been rearranging her life for me, and I didn’t do anything but tell her to fuck off.
“How can I make it up to her?”
People hurry through the large lobby, but I can’t see anything but the tears on her cheeks as she ran away from me, her boots pushing through the snow, her hair flying behind her as she raced to her car.
“I don’t know, Rick, that’s between you and her. But you owe me an apology, and you owe Talia an apology for hurting Devyn. We all want to see you move past this accident, and we’ve stood by you. Devyn put herself on the line to clear your name, when no one thought it was needed but her. I don’t know what you got going on inside that head of yours, but it needs to stop before you destroy every relationship that means something to you. I assume you’re at the Times looking for her. Go back to Old Harbor, drop to your knees and grovel. It would mean a lot to me and Talia if you could visit. There’s still time to bring in the New Year with a party, write some New Year’s resolutions, plan what we want this year to be like. We’ve been friends for a long time. I don’t want that to change.”
“I’m sorry.” I force the words out, and I’m lucky he hears them over the chatter swirling around me.
“Save it and say it to Devyn first. She deserves it more than I do. Buy her a ring and thank your lucky stars if she wears it. I need to go. I’m in meetings today, and we’ve been talking about the hotel. I’m going to finish it.”
He says it like he expects me to argue, but there’s no reason for me to. “Good.”
“I gotta go. Take care.” Beau hangs up.
Devyn’s been in Old Harbor all along.
I don’t want to drive the five hours back and call the airport and ask them to have the plane ready. An hour later, I’m in the air, and we’re touching down in Old Harbor as the sun begins to sink into the horizon.
I skip the ring—there’s no point buying one if she’s going to throw me out on my ass—and I text Beau for her address. I haven’t entered Talia’s phone number into my contacts, but I should. If she’s going to be my sister-in-law, I should be able to get a hold of her when I need to, because I thought of this while waiting to land in Old Harbor: If Devyn can put all her energy into falling in love with me, if she’s changed her mind, the least I can do is wait for her. I can be just as tenacious, just as stubborn. I never would have been successful in this business if I bailed at every little roadblock.
If she says she needs time, doesn’t trust me anymore, needs to think if being with me is what she wants after all, then I owe it to her to stick by her and wait.
If it’s courting her with movies, and dinner, and long—ah, short—walks through the park, then that’s what I’ll do. If she needs proof, I’ll give her proof.
I fucked up.
I’ll fix it.
Beau texts me her address, and her apartment isn’t far from the Herald’s office. I beat on the door with no result. But she’s not avoiding me. She isn’t here.
It’s half past six, and that can only mean she’s at the paper. Carefully, I walk down the sidewalk to the building four blocks away. The Herald’s offices are huge, but it’s easy to find Devyn’s desk when I skim the building’s directory mounted between two elevators.
Devyn’s floor is empty, and I walk past a vacant receptionist’s desk. Cupping my hands around my eyes, I peer through the glass wall into the bullpen.
She’s sitting in the back corner, her computer monitor glowing. It’s the only light on the entire floor, and she’s resting her head on her arms, her shoulders shaking.
She’s crying.