This Is Not How It Ends(92)

CHAPTER 44

May 2019

My story with Philip began on a plane, and it would end on a plane.

Liberty and I were tucked in first class on American Airlines (her insistence). “If we’re going to find you a prince, we’re going to find him in style.”

My certification came through that morning, and I was empowered and proud, two fine characteristics to take a leap on. “You were a wise investment on my part, Charlotte.” She laughed while sipping a Bloody Mary. The bracelets up and down her arms clinked together.

“I’m worried about Sunny,” I said. Though Paul had been happy to extend his visit by a few days to help out with Sunny, I still wasn’t sure it was a good idea. “What if he doesn’t like my father?”

“He’ll be fine. Gay men and dogs love each other.”

“This is a mistake,” I told her, stretching my legs out in front of me.

She leaned over the seat and stuck her pointed nose in my face. “The only mistake is that you’ve waited this long.”



New York was warm and dry, teetering on the brink of summer. The city was sizzling with throngs of tourists, and with that kind of energy, it was hard not to feel alive and hopeful.

Liberty and I walked the bustling streets and their crowded sidewalks. We stopped only to gaze up at the magnificent skyscrapers jutting into the blue sky. The sounds and smells filled my nose—Ben was near, I could feel him in my bones.

I had this recurring dream about Ben’s new restaurant. I’d be roaming the noisy streets at dusk, the sun escaping behind the city skyline. A charming brick restaurant with cozy outdoor seating would appear. Fairy lights strung from above; aged brick swathed with ivy. And I would just know. This is Ben’s. He’d be sitting at the bar, nursing a tequila, waiting for the dinner crowd to breeze in. He’d sense my passing through the door and turn around. Our eyes would meet, and everything would fall into place.

But it didn’t happen that way.

Liberty grabbed her laptop from her suitcase the minute we got to our room overlooking Madison Avenue. Before I could unpack my toiletries, she was typing in the passcode for the internet and googling Ben Hearst. Goose. I had my fantasies about what he’d name her, his new restaurant. “Sari” was the name of his first award-winner. Jimmy’s. Charlotte’s Web. Something that made people stop and wonder, remembering he was the poor chef who had lost his wife on these mean streets.

Liberty mouthed, Tin Hi. When she saw my puzzled expression, she repeated it again. “Tin Hi.”

“That’s the name?” I asked. “What language is that?”

“I don’t know. It’s spelled T-I-N-H-I-E. All caps.”

“Let me see.” I headed over to the screen, stumped by the bizarre phrase. TINHIE. “What does it mean? Does it say?”

We scrolled down the web page, past the picture of Ben in his white garb—Ben with his newer, shorter haircut—Ben’s eyes, holding on to mine. It offered no explanation for the strange word that Liberty had googled, which connected us to a Facebook and Twitter account of a young girl from Indonesia. Liberty typed: What does tinhie mean? Google’s answer: Do you mean tinie?

Liberty wrote down the address on the hotel’s note paper and stuffed it in her pocket. “Let’s go.” When I made no effort to move, she said, “Come on, Charlotte, it’s time. We’re here, get moving.”

I caught my reflection in the mirror. “I can’t.”

“There’s no such thing as can’t. We’re going.”

“He might not even be there. It’s early.”

“I’ll call,” she said. “Want me to call?”

I shook my head no. I didn’t want to know. My heart raced. This is a mistake, I told myself. It had been easier confronting my father.

“Give me the address,” I blurted out.

She fetched the scrunched-up paper and passed it my way. I entered the information into my phone to see if it was close enough to walk or if I needed to take an Uber. Uber it was.

“You call me the second you can,” she said. Her green eyes were filled with magic and a thrill that latched on to my heart.

I looked down at my jeans and the white V-neck T-shirt. A long leather cord dangled from my neck with two gold charms, one for courage and one for hope. I rubbed them with my fingers and glanced back in the mirror. My hair was long and light from the Florida sun. “Here,” I said, reaching for my hand. “Take this.” Her mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out as I dropped the diamond in her hand. “You guard that with your life,” I said. “I just need to do this with a clear head. Ben deserves that much.”



I was in the Uber, and just my luck, it was Sergio’s very first day. He had a friend with him, Sonia, and she passed this information along because, well, Sergio didn’t speak a lick of English. The ride started out friendly enough. I remarked how she was a good friend, this Sonia. Sergio drove while holding his phone up, opened to a map program that wasn’t Waze. “I think it’s against the law to hold the phone while he drives,” I kindly told Sonia. “And he should probably use Waze. It’s much more accurate.” Which would have come in handy when he missed a turn and we had to venture through one of the tunnels, where there was an accident and our trip went from twelve minutes to thirty-four. By then, I was annoyed, but tried not to show it. My patience was wearing thin, but I smiled.