Close to Destiny (A Magical Love Story)

Chapter 36

May 3

I skipped out on her. I made it to Stamford and even set foot on the platform. But when I saw the white Audi, engine already rumbling nervously, I took a step back. Mom was craning her neck to pluck me out of the crowd.

I couldn't do it. I couldn't take one more bad mood. One more criticism. One more "Give Mimi a kiss like a nice girl." Not now. I slipped back inside. The door rolled shut behind me. I turned off my phone. At the next stop, I got out and waited for the next train back to the city. I was home in time to meet Blanche for lunch at the deli.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, startled. She pushed her copy of Vogue out of the way and leaned forward as I settled down in the noisy little corner. Blanche came here almost every Saturday for a soup and sandwich combo. We caught the waiter's eye, and Blanche held up two fingers. He was used to the routine: Blanche would order, and then I would arrive late and double the request even though I would only nibble my way through a quarter of it.

"You were supposed to be going home for the day."

"Yeah, right," I said, rolling my eyes. "I must have been a moron to take that train. I mean, this is your last day here. I'm seeing you off at the airport tomorrow."

I tried to swallow the lump forming in my throat, but it wouldn't go away.

"I'll be back soon," Blanche said. She took my hand. "Every couple of months, I'll be back for a week, Kat. The time will fly."

As usual, she was the strong and solid one.

"You're right. I don't want to make you feel bad."

"I thought you would be angry with me for telling Mom about your London stories. I didn't tell her everything, you know—just enough so she would realize you're a bit fragile at the moment and she should take it easy on you."

I snorted. "Well that didn't work. Our conversation yesterday was more of the usual."

"I'm sorry. I only wanted to do the right thing. I said you broke up with Paul and you met someone in London. And I told her that, perhaps, you would see him here in New York... but things were kind of difficult for you."

"Don't worry about it."

The waiter arrived with two steaming bowls of chicken broth and hot pastrami sliding out from thin slices of rye.

"Why do you always copy my order?" Blanche asked. "You never eat the pastrami. You only munch on the corners of the bread. Why not try something you might actually like?"

"I guess it's a habit... following you."

"You don't follow or listen to me all of the time—at least not lately," she said, taking a bite of her sandwich.

"Let's say I'm trying to break away." And I meant it.

If you enjoyed this chapter, please vote – thank you!