Page 55 of Commit

CHAPTER 36

MATT

I sign the paper for the rental car and hand the clipboard back to the hotel employee.

“You’re all set,” he says, handing me the keys.

“Thanks.” I turn and run into Remi, standing next to my convertible.

“Do you have room for one more?”

She’s still wearing her dress from the wedding, and her eyes are puffy, like she’s been crying.

“I’m going to Tampa. Not the airport.”

“I know.” Her eyes drop, and I can see she’s having a hard time being vulnerable. “I was hoping to join you in Tampa.”

I lift my suitcase into the back of the car. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

She bends over, placing her suitcase next to mine. “Why not?”

I take her suitcase out of the back and set it on the curb. “Don’t you have to work this week?”

“I already got my classes covered,” she says, placing her bag back in the car.

I shake my head. “Why do you even want to come with me anyway?”

“It’s on my bucket list: drive through the Keys in a convertible with a rocket scientist. My bucket list is oddly specific.”

“I’m not sure the rocket scientist is in the mood for company right now.”

“I got your letter.” I look at her, expecting to see her pity face, but instead, she’s looking at me with more determination than I’ve ever seen before—a hidden strength I always knew was there, but she rarely shows. She lifts her chin. “You said a lot of good things that got me thinking about how terrible I’ve been.”

“I wasn’t trying to make you feel guilty.”

“I know, but I deserve to feel guilty. You were right. I haven’t treated you fairly. I’ve been projecting all my issues from my mom onto you and our relationship.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Projected?”

“Yes.” She nods. “Projected. That’s what my therapist calls it.”

I shift my weight. “I didn’t know you had a therapist.”

“It’s a new thing. I’ve only gone to her three times, but I’d like to think I’m making progress, even if it’s slow.”

“I’m glad you have someone you can talk to. I think that will be good for you.” I walk around her to the driver’s side of the car.

Remi runs past me, maneuvering herself in front of my car. Her body leans against the door, and her hands are behind her back, holding the handle.

I dip my chin down, staring at her. “What are you doing?”

“I’m making it difficult for you to leave.”

Leaving her was already the most difficult thing I’ve ever done, and that was before she showed up outside the hotel.

“Why?” I ask.

“Because I need you to hear me out.”