Letting Go by Molly McAdams Page B

found someone else and you missed your chance because you were waiting for her to come back, how would you feel?”
    I froze. Everything in me just stopped for tortured moments before I forced out, “What are you—did she—are you—Graham, is she with someone?”
    “I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t. All I know is that she’s happy, and she doesn’t have any plans to come back yet. Whether that means she’s found someone already or not, she will eventually find someone. And if you want to be that guy, you need to go get her.”
    “I will, I gotta go.”
    After hanging up, I ran to my studio as I scrolled through the contact list on my phone. I had calls to make, and I needed to get to Seattle.
    Grey
    July 12, 2014

    A T T H E S O U N D of the front door slamming, I jumped back from where I was standing in the kitchen making breakfast for Janie, her roommate, Heather, and me. I glanced over at Heather, and she shrugged as she leaned away from the bar to look toward the entryway.
    “Grey, Grey, Grey, Grey, Grey!” Janie yelled as she ran through the apartment to the kitchen. She was out of breath as she set down the three coffees.
    “Jesus, did you run to the coffee shop?” I asked, giving her a weird look before going back to the food.
    She shook her head as she tried to catch her breath. “There was—I found—hold on!” Grabbing her purse, she dug through it for a few seconds before slamming what looked like a nice-looking brochure onto the bar.
    “What is it?”
    “It’s for some art gallery place,” Heather mumbled as she looked over it. “Huh. Random.”
    Janie snatched it away from her and pointed it at me. “There was a stack of them at the shop, and I grabbed it because the picture on the front is all pretty, see?” She waved it in my direction for half a second before dropping it.
    All I had seen was that the brochure was black.
    “So I’m looking at it and decide I’m going to go see where this place is to see if it’s close so we could all go, since I love art, you know?”
    “You love art?” Heather and I said at the same time.
    “Since when?” I asked.
    She looked at me for a few seconds before gesturing wildly with her hands. “Since always! That doesn’t matter! So I’m driving, and I find this place, and of course it’s closed since it’s, like, the ass crack of dawn right now. But there are windows, and there was an art piece in the window!”
    “It’s an art gallery, you’d figure there—”
    “It was of you, Grey!” she said excitedly, cutting me off.
    I kept absentmindedly moving around the scrambled eggs, staring at her like she’d gone insane, until it hit me. I inhaled audibly and dropped the spatula. “Jagger,” I breathed.
    “Yes! Jagger!”
    “Oh my God.”
    “I know!” she screeched, and bounced up and down a few times. “He’s having a thing at the gallery place this weekend! We have to go!”
    “Wait,” Heather said, grabbing the brochure and looking at it again. “What? What is a jagger?”
    “Not a what,” I said, my eyes not focused on anything in the apartment.
    “Definitely not a what,” Janie confirmed. “More like a who.”
    “Holy shit! Mick Jagger is in Seattle?” Heather yelled.
    My lips curved up in a smile, but I still wasn’t able to focus on Heather or Janie. “No, his name is Jagger Easton.”
    “Who names their kid Jagger?”
    I glanced at Heather and laughed softly. “His mom is kind of obsessed with the Rolling Stones. He even has a sister named Charlie after the drummer, Charlie Watts, and a little brother named after Keith Richards.”
    “Okay, so who is he?”
    I turned off the stove, and shrugged as my eyes darted over to Janie. “Jagger’s just . . . Jagger.”
    Janie was still smiling like it was Christmas, and Heather was now giving me a weird look. “For some reason I don’t think he’s ‘just Jagger’ to you. You’re all smiley and you’re blushing.”
    My face fell, and I turned to get plates