The Roommate (Roommates, #1)

Cannon: I fly out this afternoon. Wasn’t sure if you wanted to see me before I left.

Cannon’s text message that morning came as a surprise. I was lying in bed thinking of him and my talk with Allie last night when my phone chirped, signaling a new message. I could only wonder if he was lying in bed across town thinking of me too.

After hearing nothing from him since the fire last week, I expected him to leave without a backward glance. Of course I wanted to see him, but when I thought about how that meeting would go, doubts began to creep in.

What would we say-I’ll miss you? Have a good life? That was too painful to think about. I’d come to terms with the fact that I’d have to watch him move on from afar, that I’d occasionally hear updates from Allie. I was sure he’d be a brilliant doctor and have a beautiful life. And I knew one day he’d meet someone and marry.

Paige: It’s probably better if we don’t.

There was no reply after that.

But two hours later, I found myself Googling flight times to Denver. I hightailed my ass to the airport, hoping to see him before he left with a piece of me I’d never get back. I didn’t care how bad it would hurt, how awkward or stilted the conversation might be. I wasn’t going to miss my last chance at seeing him.

When I arrived at the airport, I navigated to the terminal I’d researched. There was a flight to Denver leaving in under two hours. If he wasn’t on this flight, there was another taking off in about four hours. I had all day, and I would be patient.

I was only there five minutes when his mom’s little silver sedan slipped past me in traffic. Ducking my head, I slid on my sunglasses, hoping no one spotted me.

I waited several car lengths away and watched as Allie and his mom dropped him off at the curb, hugging and kissing him like they were sending him off to war. Cannon was quiet, pensive, but didn’t seem overly upset. I knew he was probably excited for this next phase of his life.

When his mom’s car pulled away, I pushed my gearshift into park and hopped out, clutching the Post-it note I’d hastily written before I left.

Hoisting his duffel bag high on his shoulder, he pulled a massive black rolling suitcase behind him. I guessed he was having his other stuff shipped to his new home. Then again, he really didn’t have much. The king-sized bed he’d bought was still sitting unused in my guest room. It was crazy how your entire life could be boiled down to fit inside two suitcases.

As my feet carried me up the sidewalk and closer toward him, my heart began to pound.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

He reached the counter for curbside bag check and lifted his bags onto the conveyor with ease. I took a deep breath, now just fifteen feet behind him.

Sometimes there are no second chances. Sometimes it’s now or never.

The attendant, a pretty young woman with a long blond ponytail, smiled at Cannon, and he smiled back. She made some joke that I couldn’t hear, and Cannon broke out into laughter.

I stopped so abruptly, the man behind me almost ran into me. My feet wouldn’t go any further. Cannon wasn’t torn up; he wasn’t heartbroken or distraught. He was smiling and laughing as he chatted with the bag attendant. He obviously never meant that I love you.

I wouldn’t make a fool of myself, chasing after him like some lovesick little girl.

Crumpling the note in my hand, I turned around and headed for the safety of my car. The pain of losing him hurt all over again. As I drove away, tears freely streaming down my cheeks, I knew there wasn’t enough chocolate or alcohol in the world to make the pain of this moment go away.

And the worst part was, I wouldn’t even have my best friend to help me get through this.