Kylie Cantrall's Arc

Chapter 35 of 78

The reporters kept shouting, but Kylie stopped hearing them. Malia was through the gate now. Her old best friend crossed the dock in a pale coat, the same woman who had slept with Kylie's boyfriend for six months while holding her hand through the breakup. The colorful hull of the ship rose behind them all, gold and green paint bright in the gray morning. Kylie had planned for cameras. She had not planned for this. Malia stopped three feet away. The reporters went quiet, sensing something bigger than a photo. "Kylie," Malia said. "Can we talk? Just us." Kylie's hand tightened on the leash that joined her to Arianna and the puppy. Three of them on one line. She looked at Arianna. Arianna did not pull away. She held steady, exactly as she had practiced. Old Kylie would have followed Malia somewhere private. She would have let the woman explain, again, with cameras off and no witnesses. That was how Malia worked. She got Kylie alone and then she took things. "No," Kylie said. Malia blinked. "I just want a minute. In private." "You had six months in private." Kylie kept her voice level. The lenses caught every word. "Whatever you say to me, you say here." Malia glanced at the reporters. Her jaw tightened. She had counted on quiet. She had none. "I made a mistake," Malia said, softer now. "I miss you." Kylie felt the old pull, the wish to fix it, to have her friend back. Then the puppy leaned against her leg, calm, trained for this exact noise. Arianna's leashed wrist rested against her hand. "This is Arianna," Kylie said, loud and clear. "My girlfriend. She wrote me letters for a year. She never once went behind my back." She looked straight at Malia. "I'm not going anywhere with you. Not today. Not ever." Malia's face fell. The reporters started shouting again, but now they shouted Arianna's name, not Malia's. The story had moved. Malia stood alone in her pale coat, a woman from a past that Kylie had just closed in front of the world. "Go home, Malia," Kylie said. She turned her back. She walked, and Arianna walked with her, and the puppy trotted between them. The three of them moved as one thing, off the dock, toward the waiting car. No gap opened. Kylie did not look back. Inside the car, the doors shut out the noise. Arianna unclipped the leash from her wrist. Her hands shook a little. "You said it," Arianna whispered. "In front of everyone." "I said it," Kylie answered. Her chest felt light. For years Malia had been the reason she could not trust. Now that door was shut, on camera, for good. But Kylie's phone was already lighting up. Her mother. The label. A hundred messages. The world had watched her choose Arianna. Now the world wanted its say.