“No,” I say calmly because what I’m about to admit isn’t a joke. “I don’t have a hotel.”
His brows furrow.
“I’m staying about fifteen minutes from here, though.”
“Did you get a rental for the game? Shit, Honeycomb. You were seriously that invested in coming to this game for me, you emptied your bank account?”
“No.” I pause, trying to hold back the smile on my face. “I have an apartment.”
He looks down, and I can see the math happening in real time.
“Your apartment,” he says slowly, still not completely getting it, or maybe he doesn't want to believe me.
“Yeah. I live in Rome.”
He closes his eyes. “You—” his voice breaks off. “What?”
“I transferred to Rome U.” I try to keep my tone light, but my heart is hammering in my chest now. “I’ve been there since September.”
His face changes instantly.
Shock first. Then confusion. Then hurt.
His mouth opens.
Closes.
Then he sits up, which brings me with him.
“Are you fucking serious?”
He says it loud enough that the security guard looks over at us. Not that Zach cares.
“Yeah,” I nod. “I accepted a transfer on the last day of the cruise. I was in a dorm for a while, but then I wanted to prove to you that I was serious about us, so I got myself an apartment a couple of weeks ago. No more visiting hours for me,” I say nervously.
He stares at me for a minute. “You're—Honey. You mean to tell me that you've been fifteen minutes away from me this entire—” He stops and takes a breath. I can hear it in his voice. He’s pissed, but I expected that.
Zach runs a hand through his hair, trying to comprehend it. “This whole time you’ve been right here?”
I place my hand on his chest, forcing him to look at me. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I just wanted to settle into everything before I told you.”
He laughs bitterly. “I’ve been losing my mind. I want you to know that. I’ve been—” He stops. “The calls, and the texts, and not knowing where you were, and watching you jump off a cliff on a video and thinking—” He doesn't finish that sentence either. “I didn’t know I could’ve just popped in my truck and seen you.”
“That was the point, Z,” I say lowly, knowing the security guard is no doubt listening now. “I’ve always wanted to be where you are. That’s why it took me so long to leave St. Michael’s, but this time it had to be different. I needed to find myself first before I could find you.”
His expression softens. Just a little.
“And did you?” he asks quietly.
Holding his gaze, I nod. “I did.”
He looks at me for a long moment. His eyes searching mine for the truth. It's all there.
The parking lot feels impossibly quiet suddenly.
“Fuck,” he whispers.
Then he grabs my face and kisses me as though he’s making up for every mile he thought existed between us. When he finally pulls back, he rests his forehead against mine, breathing hard.
