Running from Love: A Story for Runners and Lovers by Rozsa Gaston Read Free Book Online

mother, Sarah Prescott Dingle, is owner of an eponymously named interior design firm in New York and serves on the board of The Children’s Aid Society of New York City. The bride is the great-great granddaughter of Alexander Prescott, the governor of New York from 1875–1879.
    Mr. Young, 38, is a composer for ballet theater. He was second runner-up in the 1994 Frederic Chopin International Piano Competition, and was the winner of the Sigmund Soros Award in 1997. He received his M.F.A. in composition and piano performance at the Curtis Institute of Music in Philadelphia. His father, the late DeVane Young was a property developer in Saddle Brook, New Jersey. His mother, Helen Young Shaw, is retired director of the Suzuki violin program at the Spence Chapin School in Manhattan.
    Farrah put down the paper, stunned. Will had married well. How had he managed to meet someone with a name like Alexandra Dingle, convince her to marry him, then pull off a wedding in France in the space of eight months? Had he known this woman before he’d dated Farrah? Was she a childhood friend?
    He and Farrah had dated for over two years. Then, in their final months together, he’d begun saying strange things, culminating in the final mysterious explanation he’d given that had yanked the curtain down on their final act.
    “I think there’s a disconnect sometimes when we talk,” he’d told her, after they’d been on the phone over forty-five minutes in one of their frequent content-packed, emotion-laden conversations.
    “Oh,” had been all she could say. Ouch! had been what she’d meant.
    “I don’t know how to explain it. But there’s a missing of aims at moments when we talk. I’ve experienced it before.”
    “Do you mean with me?” Or with other women you’ve dated? Whatever his answer, it wasn’t going to make her happy.
    “Uh—yes. Not just with you. It’s happened before.”
    She should have taken this as her cue that Will’s emotional baggage was something she was better off without. But she’d been in love. Whatever his faults, she’d wanted him. But he was letting her know she wasn’t the one. For the first time in her life she fully comprehended the meaning of the term “devastated.”
    “Huh. Maybe we should get off the phone now.” She’d heard from various sources that overlong phone conversations with a dating partner weren’t a good idea. She kicked herself for having thought Will and she were an exception to the rule. Thinking back to teen-years phone conversations with boys that her mother had limited with an egg-timer placed nearby, she realized for the first time that her mother had known best. Too much idle chatter led to disaster. But now, it was too late.
    “Maybe we should cut down on seeing each other so much.” The words flowed into her ear from the other end of the line like hot lava destroying everything in its path.
    “What?” Her voice came out in a squeak.
    “I said maybe we shouldn’t see each other so much.”
    “I’ve got to go now, Will. Bye.” She’d hung up fast, her heart in a sling.
    And that had been it. Two years of non-stop tingling joy and supreme confidence in knowing she’d found The One skidded to a halt.
    There had been a few more encounters with Will, but they’d all been beside the point. They’d returned books, notes they’d written each other, and photos they’d exchanged in two, subsequent encounters. On both occasions her heart had broken all over again. Will had offered no further physical warmth or emotional connection from that phone conversation on. It had been total, inexplicable emotional amputation from the man with whom she’d been madly in love. Eight months later, seeing the wedding announcement sent her heart straight back into intensive care.
    Ever since that day, she still shuddered every time she passed an airport terminal newsstand. Considering the amount of time she spent in airports, it was ridiculous. She needed to get over it, once