41. Daphne

41

DAPHNE

My foot tapped on the polished concrete floor as I sat at my terminal and watched dawn break through the large windows overlooking the airstrips. The inky night sky morphed into a yellow, pink haze as I fought to stay awake.

I'd chosen a flight this early, so I'd have an excuse to stay in a hotel next to the airport the night before. I didn't tell anyone I was leaving yesterday evening because of my aversion to goodbyes. I lied to Nadia and told her I wanted to spend time with Rhonda. Then I asked Ms. Shaw to come and stay with her since her nurse wasn't going to be there until Sunday at ten a.m. and I slipped out of town in the dead of night. Well, actually, the dead of the evening, at five-thirty p.m. I took an Uber to Savannah and checked into a motel next door to the airport. Then, I spent the entire night lying awake regretting my decision to make an Irish exit.

There was mainly one person I wished I'd said goodbye to. Never in my life would I have thought that a man in cowboy boots, jeans, and a white T-shirt would make me go weak in the knees, to have me second-guessing everything in my life, to have me wanting things I never wanted, but I was wrong.

As I adjusted my position in the uncomfortable plastic chair and stared down at my laptop, rewatching the date we'd gone on for the twentieth time, I couldn't ignore the churning in my stomach. The anxiety that was consuming me had nothing to do with the fact that I was about to be rocketed in a metal tube that weighed roughly five hundred thousand pounds thirty-five thousand feet in the air. Honestly, I hadn't even given the flight any thought. I hadn't had a drink or had any desire to take a Xanax, not that I had any.

My anxiety had everything to do with the fact that I was leaving the only place that had ever felt like home to me. Not just the town itself, although living in a real-life Mayberry/Stars Hollow/Disney film come to life, definitely had its appeal. It was more than just the town. It was the people that were the heartbeat of the town.

A single tear slid down my face, but I quickly wiped it away. I never showed any emotion in public. I hadn't cried in public since I was seven, and my hand accidentally got slammed in the trunk when my dad and I had been grocery shopping, and he'd loaded the bags. I screamed and sobbed at the excruciating pain, and he grabbed me by my arm and got so close to my face that he spit on me as he told me to shut up and stop making a scene or he'd give me something to cry about.

Looking back through the lens of adulthood, I realize he'd been so upset because he'd been drinking, and he most likely didn't want anyone to come over and smell his flammable breath, especially since he drove me home. At the time, I was mad at myself for angering my dad. But now I knew that I had fractured my hand and should have gone to the doctor. I didn't end up getting medical attention until I went back to school two days later. When the nurse asked me what happened, I lied and said that a neighborhood kid slammed my hand in a sliding door because that's what my father told me to say if anyone asked. When the nurse called my house, my mom backed up the false story.

Another tear slid down my cheek, and I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Exhaustion pulled at me. I was so tired of dealing with my parents' sins. If I hadn't been such a people-pleaser who morphed into whatever person I thought my romantic interest wanted me to be combined with my abandonment issues, then maybe Harlan and I would have a chance.

The problem was, I'd promised myself I would not settle again. Ever. I would not change my plans, my goals, or my life to accommodate another person. I felt like I'd had a half dozen Get Out of Jail Free relationship cards, and I'd already played them all.

I was going to be thirty. Was it really a good idea for a thirty-year-old woman to give up her career, move across the country, and change her views on marriage and family for a man? No. It wasn't.

"Is that seat taken?" a deep voice cut into my thoughts.

Before I even opened my eyes, I felt a shadow fall over my face. When my lids lifted, I looked up and discovered the source of the blocked light. A mountain of a man, at least six foot five, with shoulders so broad his frame completely obstructed the sunrise, stood in front of me. He had thick brown hair and a long beard with piercing blue eyes surrounded by dark lashes. He wore a white t-shirt, leather jacket, jeans, and black boots. He looked like a dark angel who belonged on the back of a Harley Davidson.

His size and appearance on paper would be intimidating, but his presence had the opposite effect. I felt instantly at ease. Calm. At peace.

"No, it's not." I motioned to the seat beside me. As I glanced around, I saw that the waiting area had really filled up in the past few minutes since I'd closed my eyes. Most of the seats were now occupied.

As the man lowered down, he asked, "You okay, darlin'?"

"I'm fine," I assured him, pasting on my widest smile.

"Well, if that's fine, I'd sure hate to see what not fine looks like."

I chuckled, not really sure what to say, as another tear fell down my face. I tried to sniff it back but ended up wiping it away with the back of my hand.

"Don't want to pry, but I've got two hours to kill before my flight, and my wife always said I was a good listener. You didn't know her, but if that woman was anything, she was honest."

Never in my life had I opened up to a stranger. I mean, it took me three years with my therapist before I was able to scratch the surface of my childhood or relationships. But for some reason, this man, he made me want to tell him everything. Every hurt, every milestone, every disappointment, every failure, every insecurity. I wanted to tell him all of it.

But, of course, I didn't. Instead, I smiled. "She sounds like an amazing woman."

His lips curled at the edges. "Maggie was the perfect woman. Now, I know what you're gonna say—no one is perfect, but my Magpie, she was perfect ."

He was using the past tense, which made me think that she must not be around anymore. But I noticed the gold band on his left ring finger, which made me wonder if he still wore it even though she was gone.

"So, what's got the waterworks goin' today?"

I started to tell him that it was nothing, but instead, when I opened my mouth, I told him everything . I told him about my past relationships and how I'd molded myself into who I thought each man wanted. I told him that I promised myself I would never do that again. I told him that I had a career that I'd put on the back burner for several men and refused to ever do that again.

I told him that I met Harlan, and he made me want things that I'd told myself I never wanted. I told him that he was the best man I'd ever known and that I loved him. I told him that I didn't know what to do. I told him I wanted to be with Harlan but that I was scared if I did, I'd fall back into my old ways. I told him I didn't know if getting on the plane was the biggest mistake of my life because that's what it was starting to feel like.

And then I asked him, "What do you think? What do you think I should do?"

He exhaled a soft sigh. "Well, now, darlin', I don't have that answer for ya, but I know one thing. Folks thought me and my Magpie were too young when we got hitched, but I knew we weren't. I knew we were doin' the right thing."

"How?" I asked. "How did you know?"

"It was real simple. I just closed my eyes and pictured my life. I pictured all sorts of things: me playing in the big leagues, me being poor and homeless, me winnin' the lottery, me workin' on my family farm, me working at McDonald's, me becoming a rock star, and in every single one of them scenarios she was there. At the time, I was a kid, only seventeen. I didn't know what my life was gonna be, but I knew I couldn't imagine my life without her in it. And then I knew I was doin' the right thing. She was as much a part of my life as I was. There was no me without her."

Would that work? No. I was sure I could imagine my life without Harlan.

"Go ahead, then, try it," Biker Man encouraged as if he'd read my mind.

I closed my eyes and tried to picture all the things I'd dreamed of happening in my life, all the things I'd put on vision boards. I imagined going to work at Pulse and coming home to my apartment. But when I got home, Harlan was there.

I imagined going on a work trip to New York, and when I got to my hotel room, there were flowers from Harlan.

I imagined getting out of the limo and onto the red carpet at the Emmy's, and Harlan was the one taking my hand.

I imagined getting sick, like my aunt, and Harlan was the one beside me at the hospital.

I imagined starting my own consulting business, and Harlan was the one checking out office spaces with me.

I imagined staying in Firefly Island and going to sleep every night, and Harlan's was the last face I saw before I closed my eyes.

I imagined waking up and Harlan's face being the first face I saw.

I tried to imagine anything happening in my life without him being a part of it, and I couldn't. I couldn't.

"I can't," I said as I opened my eyes. "I can't imagine…"

My words trailed off when I saw that Biker Man was no longer seated beside me. In fact, the only other person in the waiting area was a mom with her two kids who had been there when I arrived.

I glanced around and even stood up, looking for him, but realized he must have left. Or was it just a dream? A really vivid dream.

Either way, it was exactly what I needed. Because now I knew I was not getting on that plane. I loved Harlan Mitchell, and I needed to find out if he felt the same.