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He closes the space between us with one long ground eating stride, cups the back of my neck, and his lips cover my mine, in a hard, fast kiss that curls my toes and fries my senses.
He breaks the kiss as abruptly as he started it, his hold on my neck tightening, his eyes growing dark with need. “I’ll never be fine again, Regan. You’ve ruined me,” he whispers against my mouth.
“Why did you do that?” I ask, when I can speak again.
“You said you were trying to do the right thing. And kissing you…it’ll always be the right thing.”
The sincere hope in his eyes is a battering ram against the walls of my resistance. I groan in frustration and drop my forehead on his chest.
His other arm winds around my waist.
“Don’t leave today. Let’s go back to your room and spend this last night together. Let me say goodbye to you.”
I want to say yes.
And that’s why I have to say no.
I cup his face. He’s shaved again, but his stubble scrapes against the palm of my hand. I memorize the strong lines of his face, the flecks of gold in his eyes, the lush pink center of his bottom lip, and the way he makes me feel like I can touch the sky.
“Thank you so much for this week. It’s been one of the happiest of my life.”
“We can have more.” His face is so earnest. I know he thinks he means it. But life can’t just be one big adventure. It’s obligations and responsibility. He’s got his whole life ahead of him, and I’ve got children to
raise and a marriage to end. And a life to plan.
“Maybe...But before I make promises to anyone else, I want to try and finally keep the ones I made to myself.”
He deflates in the face of my plea. He presses his lips together and puts his hands on his hips. His eyes glitter with frustration.
“You deserve that. And I want it for you,” His smile is so sad.
I hate myself for putting that there.
I hate him for making me feel the same.
Then he pulls me into a hug so tight, it’s hard to breathe. But I hold on and press my cheek to his and savor the feel and smell of the man who has given me more joy in three days than I’ve felt in fifteen years.
My eyes burn from the sting of unshed tears.
This is over. Probably, for good. But I won’t cast it as tragic. That this happened at all is amazing. After years of feeling the exact opposite, I now know that I am indeed, made to be loved. Even though he didn’t say the words; from taking me on that road trip, to bungee jumping, to showing me the wonders of the universe, to the way he’s letting me go now, I feel loved.
The doors slide open and the sound of jet engines, the smell of fuel and a wave of hot air roll in and bring reality with them. I look over my shoulder to find a member of the crew waving awkwardly at me.
He hugs me one more time and then picks my carry-on bag and walks with me to the door.
“Take care,” I say. A lump made of equal parts grief and gratitude lodges in my throat.
He takes my hand and draws it up to his mouth for a kiss.
“We didn’t find each other again for no reason. This may be the wrong time. But we are the right people. And you’ve always been my favorite what if.”
“I hope now that will stop being true.” I say with a flippancy I don’t feel.
“Why would it?” he looks genuinely puzzled.
“Because now you know that what if is sweet, but messy.”
He chuckles and it rumbles hollow and sad against my ribcage. That fierce determination back in his. “Well, you told me once that I was good at cleaning up your messes…when I get back to Houston, we’re going to find out if that’s still true.” He presses a hard, possessive kiss to my mouth. And for one glorious, final minute, I don’t give a damn who sees.
