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“We can go wherever you want.”
Her eyes softened slightly before she stood up and threw her bag away. She walked beside me with her coffee in hand, wearing a nice green dress Miranda had picked out for her. Her hair was in curls and over one shoulder, and when she did her makeup, her eyes really sparkled.
After we spent some time in the bookstore, we went window-shopping and then had lunch. She’d eaten two muffins just a few hours ago, but she had an appetite all over again.
In the late afternoon, we walked back to my apartment in the park and set our bags on the counter in the kitchen. She’d bought five books and a couple tops, and I’d brought home leftovers to have for dinner. The stress was gone from her shoulders, and she smiled to herself when she was happy, living in this dream with me.
But it wasn’t a dream at all. It was real—and it would stay that way.
She flipped through each of her books as she stood there, like she wanted to smell the pages all over again. When she noticed my stare, she glanced at me to meet my gaze, as if I wanted something. But when I didn’t speak or turn away, she knew I was looking at her for a different reason. Her smile faded, and she put the books on the counter.
I could get her attention with just my silence. That was how well she knew me. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
“Alright…”
“Fender has released you.”
When she didn’t speak, it was obvious she was struggling to understand the words I’d said. Her face tightened in a reaction, but she still failed to grasp the truth I’d spoken.
“You’re free.”
She bent her body farther toward me and crossed her arms over her chest. Instead of being happy, she was confused. “What…”
“You don’t have to go back. You can stay here.” I left out the part about her sister because it would just chase away her victory. “You’ll never have to see Alix again. You’ll never have to witness any of that ever again.”
She shook her head slightly, in disbelief. “What about you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Will you still go to the camp?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“And I’ll just…stay here? Alone?”
Why wasn’t she more thrilled about this? “I can leave you money, and you can go to the bookstore every day, get your coffee and muffins, do whatever you want. If you wanna go back to school, you can do that too. You can have any life that you want.” I’d assumed her freedom wouldn’t change our relationship, but maybe it would. Maybe she would want to be with someone else, someone who didn’t do the terrible things I did. But I would never stop her from leaving, if that was her choice. “You could go back to America too…if you want.”
Her eyes narrowed farther at my words.
I hadn’t even given her the bad news yet, and she was acting like I already had. “I don’t understand what’s happening right now. I just told you that you never have to go back, and you’re looking at me like that’s not what you want.”
She dropped her gaze for a moment and tightened her arms over her chest. “You’re gone for a whole month every time you leave.”
“And then I’ll return for two weeks.”
She shook her head. “That’s not gonna work…”
I didn’t understand what she was insinuating. Now that she was free, did our relationship not make sense anymore? I thought what we had was deeper than that, deep enough to survive being apart. “Then leave.”
Now she turned angry. “That’s not what I meant—”
“You talk about us like this shit is forever, and then I tell you this, and the first thing you wanna do is leave? What the fuck is that?”
She marched up to me and shoved me in the chest. “No, asshole. I’m saying I’d rather go with you than be here without you.” The anger on her face slowly faded to a look of hurt. “You expect me just to be here by myself for a month while you’re gone? What’s the point of being here if I’m not with you? How am I supposed to sleep when you aren’t beside me? How am I supposed to be happy in Paris when you’re miserable in a camp in the middle of fucking nowhere?” She stepped back and tucked her hair behind her ears, shaking her head as she released a deep sigh, as if my reaction were a knife to her heart. She moved back to the counter and placed one hand on the surface, the other hand on her hip. She looked down at her fingers for a while until she brought herself back to peace. “Where you go…I go.”
Instead of being embarrassed for making the wrong assumption, I felt warmth in my chest at her commitment to me. She’d rather go back to that camp, the place of her nightmares, instead of being in paradise without me. It was a kind of loyalty you couldn’t buy. It was a kind of connection between two people that couldn’t be severed.
