The Statistical Probability of Love at First Sight(52)

“What?”

He nods at her purse. “Tell her I said hi.”

Hadley grins sheepishly, surprised to have been figured out so easily.

“Yup, I’ve still got it,” he says. “The parental sixth sense.”

“You’re not as smart as you think you are,” Hadley teases him, then turns to Charlotte. “You’ll be better at it. Trust me.”

Dad slips an arm around his new wife’s shoulders and smiles up at Hadley. “Yes,” he says, kissing the side of Charlotte’s head. “I’m sure she will.”

As she walks away, Hadley can already hear Dad beginning to regale his tablemates with stories of her childhood, all the many times he came to the rescue, all the instances when he was a step ahead. She turns around once, and when he sees her he pauses—his hands raised in midair, as if demonstrating the size of a fish or the length of a field, or some other token fable from the past—and gives her a wink.

Just outside the doors to the ballroom, Hadley pauses for a moment herself, standing with her back to the wall. It’s like emerging from a dream, seeing the rest of the hotel guests in their jeans and sneakers, the world muted by the lingering music in her ears, everything too bright and slightly unreal. She makes her way through the revolving doors and takes a deep breath once she steps outside, welcoming the cool air and the insistent breeze.

There are stone steps that span the length of the hotel, ridiculously grand, like the entrance to a museum, and Hadley moves off to the side and finds a place to sit down. The moment she does, she realizes her head is pounding and her feet are throbbing. Everything about her feels heavy, and once again she tries to remember the last time she slept. When she squints at her watch, attempting to calculate what time it is back home and how long she’s been awake, the numbers blur in her head and refuse to cooperate.

There’s another message from Mom on her phone, and Hadley’s heart leaps at the sight of it. It feels like they’ve been apart for much longer than a day, and though she has no idea what time it is at home, Hadley dials and closes her eyes as she listens to the hollow sound of the ringing.

“There you are,” Mom says when she picks up. “That was some game of phone tag.”

“Mom,” Hadley mumbles, resting her forehead in her hand. “Seriously.”

“I’ve been dying to talk to you,” Mom says. “How are you? What time is it there? How’s it all going?”

Hadley takes a deep breath, then wipes her nose. “Mom, I’m really sorry about what I said to you earlier. Before I left.”

“It’s okay,” she says after a half beat of silence. “I know you didn’t mean it.”

“I didn’t.”

“And listen, I’ve been thinking….”

“Yeah?”

“I shouldn’t have made you go. You’re old enough to make these kinds of decisions on your own now. It was wrong of me to insist.”

“No, I’m glad you did. It’s been surprisingly… okay.”

Mom lets out a low whistle. “Really? I would’ve bet money that you’d be calling me demanding to come home on an earlier flight.”

“Me, too,” Hadley says. “But it’s not so bad.”

“Tell me everything.”

“I will,” she says, stifling a yawn. “But it’s been a really long day.”

“I bet. So just tell me this for now: How’s the dress?”

“Mine or Charlotte’s?”

“Wow,” Mom says, laughing. “So she’s graduated from that British woman to just Charlotte, huh?”

Hadley smiles. “Guess so. She’s actually sort of nice. And the dress is pretty.”

“Have you and your dad been getting along?”

“It was touch-and-go earlier, but now we’re fine. Maybe even good.”

“Why, what happened earlier?”

“It’s another long story. I sort of ducked out for a while.”

“You left?”

“I had to.”

“I bet your father loved that. Where’d you go?”

Hadley closes her eyes and thinks of what Dad said about Charlotte earlier, about how she talks about the things that she hopes might come true.

“I met this guy on the plane.”

Mom laughs. “Now we’re talking.”

“I went to go find him, but it was sort of a disaster, and now I’ll never see him again.”

There’s silence on the other end, and then Mom’s voice comes back a bit softer. “You never know,” she says. “Look at me and Harrison. Look what a hard time I’ve given him. But no matter how many times I’ve pushed him away, he always comes back around again. And I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“This is a little bit different.”

“Well, I can’t wait to hear all about it when you get back.”

“Which is tomorrow.”

“Right,” she says. “Harrison and I will meet you at the baggage claim.”

“Like a lost sock.”

“Oh, honey,” Mom jokes. “You’re more like a whole suitcase. And you’re not lost.”

Hadley’s voice is very small. “What if I am?”