Truly Madly Deeply: Chapter 75

I oftentimes thought of my life as a string of unfortunate events, sparsely punctuated by orgasmic food, pompous TV executives, and my mother asking me if I was wearing a sweater. The shittery that was my luck could not be further highlighted than on January first, when I found myself sharing a cab with Cal, which took us straight to the airport.

Friends, my ass. I still wanted to feast on her pussy and fill her everywhere with my fingers, cock, and tongue.

Naturally, our flights were only an hour apart, so our families had urged us to ride there together. “That way, Cal won’t have to pay for a cab. You are very poor, aren’t you, bambina?” My mother possessed a lot of positive traits, but a filter wasn’t one of them.

“They do make a point.” Cal had winced, glancing at me. “I mean, we can eliminate some of our carbon footprint?”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her I regularly rented private planes to run errands, or that I had owned seven cars simultaneously while living in Paris. Instead, I had nodded stoically. Now here we were, twenty-four hours later, crammed in the backseat of a yellow Ford Galaxy, buried in duffel bags and backpacks, with Cal making enthusiastic voices while the driver told her earnestly about how a week ago, some dudebro had tried to short him ten bucks for a ride, so the driver had pulled out his gun and told the dudebro to give him everything in his wallet. Including some credit cards, a picture of his mom, and a condom. I didn’t know if Cal was aware we were listening to a tale of a man who’d robbed his customer and was too frightened to point it out or if it flew right over her head. Either way, I scooted close to her in case she needed me to take a bullet for her. Forever the knight in chef jacket’s armor.

“Anyway. So. Thanks for the super fun conversation,” she muttered, plastering her shoulder to mine. Yup. Her creep-o-meter was definitely dinging. “I’m getting sleepy. Are you getting sleepy, Row?”

“No,” I said aloofly. “Wide-awake and as alert as a fucking dog who heard a can opening.”

“I think I’ll take a little silent nap.” She ignored me, squeezing her eyes shut like a child to stop the conversation. Unfortunately, with Cal being Cal, she really did fall asleep on my shoulder for the remainder of the journey to the airport, which meant I had to deal both with an impending heartbreak and an erection from hell.

An hour later, we were dropped at the airport. Cal checked her watch. A pink Casio with pastel-colored numbers and no frills. “We still have time for a coffee together.” Her gaze was hopeful.

We did. But I didn’t want to prolong the inevitable. Didn’t want to spend another second with the woman I knew was going to walk away with a piece of my heart.

I slung my duffel bag over my shoulder, shaking my head. “I think I’m going to catch up on emails in the first-class lounge.”

Her face fell. I knew she liked spending time together. She liked the banter, the talks into the night, the running, the orgasms—she just didn’t want to put her heart at risk. I accepted that. Respected that, even. But I didn’t have to fucking like it.

“I understand.” She swallowed. We stopped in front of TSA. Three feet apart. The bustling of people running in all directions to make it to their flights drowned us in noise. “Seriously, you’ve been nothing but amazing to me. With the employment…and the running…and the sex. And I didn’t reciprocate.” There was a beat. “Other than the sex part—I was a goddamn nymph and we both know it.” She held up her chin.

She thought she hadn’t done shit for me? That was ridiculous. I stepped forward, driving the point home one more time.

“Let me make something very clear here—I love cooking. I love traveling. I love money.” I took a breath. “But I love you more than all of those things combined. That won’t change tomorrow, next month, or next year. You’ve given me in eight weeks what I haven’t had in twenty-seven years. You’ve given me smiles, laughs, warmth, and hope. But I have to protect my own heart too, and right now, spending time with you is killing me. If, one day, be it near or far, you change your mind, you know where to find me. Until then, it’s all or nothing. And I’ll take nothing over something.”

“I understand.” Her voice was strained, and she raked her fingers over her hair. “Jesus, I hate myself for not throwing caution to the wind and just going for it. What’s wrong with me?”

Someone bumped their shoulder against mine on their run to catch a flight. I smirked. “Nothing’s wrong with you. You’re perfect just the way you are. Hey, I got you a goodbye gift.” I slid the duffel bag from my shoulder and unzipped it, rummaging to find a box the size of a cigarette pack. I tossed it into her hands. She caught it midair, about to pry it open.

“No.” I snapped it shut before she could take a peek. “Open it when you get back home.”

She arched an eyebrow. “I’m flattered that you think I possess that kind of self-control, but have you ever seen me next to a Cinnabon box?”

“If the time in Staindrop has taught me anything, Dot, it’s that you possess a lot of things you don’t know you do. That’s why I didn’t spear Allison’s head after you told me what happened between you two. Because I knew it was your fight to fight. And you did it. You stood up to your bully and you annihilated her. You showed yourself that you can. That you always could. You broke the cycle and didn’t let the cycle break you. You are a fucking rock star, and I want you to remember that every time you doubt yourself. That there’s a guy out there in the world who worships the ground you walk upon. That you marked him so thoroughly, he’ll never forget you.” I grabbed her hand and laced our fingers together. We both looked down, and she noticed the new tattoo on my inner forearm. Of a perfect, round dot. She closed her eyes, fighting tears.

“I want you to know, Ambrose Casablancas, that if I could ever be with anyone, it would be with you.”

I smiled, letting go of her fingers, drifting away, apart. “I know, Dot. I know.”