LATCH by LK Collins

barrel across intersections, not giving a shit if cars are coming. A cab honks and slams on its brakes and I dare someone to give me reason to fuck them up right now.
    Finally I stop and am standing across the street from Abby’s condo. If she won’t come to me, then I’m going to her. I don’t give a shit if her husband is home; I need to tell her how I feel. There is no way that I am just going to let her go. Swiftly, I jog across the street, and just as I step foot on the sidewalk, everything around me halts. All of the people and cars are blurred out as I focus on the couple walking out of the condo.
    It’s like my eyes are playing tricks on me as Abby and her husband emerge. He has a bag on his shoulder and his hand is on her lower back. There is a black car waiting for them and the driver opens the rear door. The paparazzi snap photos, but before they get inside, a few fans run up with some baseballs for him to sign. Intently, I watch the interaction, particularly Abby. She looks happy, smiling, as they talk to the fans, zoning out the mob of photographers. She even takes a picture of them with Darrell.
    The fans leave and he ushers her into the car. I stand with the air knocked from my lungs, panting for my breath, bent over like a goddamn loser. “Hey, man, are you okay?” a guy asks me, walking by. He touches my shoulder and I swat his hand away standing all the way up.
    “Sorry!” he responds and walks off.
    I try to catch my breath, doing everything I can, but clearly Abby has made her decision. She has chosen to make things with her husband work, and as much as it hurts me, who am I to stop her or tell her not to do that? Just like she said in her note, it’s not fair for her to change me.
    Turning my back on her place, everything that I once felt coming here fades. The adrenaline is gone, I’m empty.
    Walking away, my phone rings and I answer it out of habit, zoned out and in a daze, I’m not even sure what I’m doing right now.
    “Are you feeling better?” Scott asks me.
    “Yeah, sorry I bailed.”
    “Not a big deal. I mean, Tracy was devastated. But I know you’ll make it up to her.”
    “Yeah, man, for sure.”
    “Listen, I realize it’s last minute, but would you have time to swing by today? We’re available anytime. I just got a call that I need to leave the country on business for a few weeks, and if she has to wait that long…well, I don’t know what she’s going to do.”
    As much as I don’t want to do anything right now but drink myself into oblivion, I know that working will keep me busy and is better than getting wasted. Maybe giving Tracy a good fucking will clear my mind and help me let go of Abby once and for all. “Yeah, I’m free now. Should I just come to your place?”
    “That’d be great. Thanks, Latch!”
    We hang up and I hail a cab. Hopping in the back, I tell him the cross streets for Scott and Tracy’s. On the drive, my eyes are locked on my phone and Abby’s text. Now it all makes sense. Why she pushed me away and asked for space. She’s reconciled with her husband.
    And I sealed my own fate by not opening up to her when I had the chance. Had I told her how I really felt, and not let myself be scared of the consequences of my honesty, maybe things would have turned out differently. But instead, I indulged in the moment, thinking what we had was stronger than it was. Thinking we’d have tomorrow, but really tomorrow is never guaranteed and I know that best.
    Walking up Scott and Tracy’s large round driveway, the gate automatically opens for me. And I hope this is just what I need to erase my mind, to numb the pain and release Abby, the way she’s let go of me.
    Scott opens the door for me and shakes my hand. “Thank you for coming on such short notice. I promise I’ll make the pay worth your time,” he says.
    “Of course. I owe you guys.” Walking into their lavish home with marble floors and dark interior, I can already hear Tracy moaning,