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28
It only tookfifty minutes to get parked on Abbott Kinney thanks to speeding. I couldn’t get there fast enough.
My mom had told me that she’d spoken to Drake before he’d left and not to worry. She’d told me he would come around. She’d told me he wasn’t moving out.
This all seemed true because when I’d made my way back to the pool house to cry all seventy percent of my water mass out of my tear ducts, all of his belongings but his guitar were still there.
I’d still cried. I’d cried because I’d lied to Drake and he might never trust me again. I’d cried because of the reason I had to.
The only thing that could have stopped me before dehydrating into a raisin was Drake’s call. When he’d invited me down to Venice, I hadn’t even bothered with makeup or brushing my hair. I’d just thrown on a jacket and raced out the door.
He stood in front of an empty parking space on the street. My heart thumped. He’d given me the impression that he wasn’t angry, but I knew we still needed to hash this all out. As I turned off the ignition, he opened the back door, threw in his guitar, and then opened the door for me.
He offered me a hand. I took it. Once standing, he swept me into him. His hands caressed my back as we hugged, then one smoothed out my hair while he kissed the top of my head.
“I’m sorry, Maeve. Truly sorry. I shouldn’t have made you feel that way.”
I leaned back so I could see him. “It’s okay. It really is.”
His warm lips met mine in a kiss I wished could last a lifetime. It was a kiss so soft and tender that I almost wished we could both die then and there. Consumed by the fire of our love. Turning to ash in a loving embrace.
But that wasn’t how any of this worked. Whether it happened in a year or in ten or a hundred, one of us would suffer first. The thought brought a tear to my eye that trickled down.
He wiped it with his thumb. “Hey. Please. Don’t cry, Fairy.”
I buried my face in his chest, breathing in his special combination of man scent and cologne. “This is all so hard.”
His hand cradled the back of my head, holding me to his chest, the sound of his beating heart comforting me. It was still beating. I had to compose myself.
I leaned back again. “Okay. I’m done. For now. Should we go on this date you promised?”
“Let’s.”
We walked down the street, our shadows long in the setting sun. Drake’s arm draped over my shoulder as I caught the eyes of some passersby staring at him. They wondered if he was the Drake Jackson. I wondered if they could see he was dying as it seemed every eye was filled with sympathy.
I had to shake this off. As the saying goes, you either get busy living or get busy dying. I was determined to live. I drew in some air, with a deliberate attempt to cleanse myself of this ache inside.
We reached Hightop Roof bar.
Drake kissed my cheek. “This is supposed to be the best place to watch the sunset.”
“Perfect.”
We made our way to a rooftop lounge, settled onto a low lounge couch; the sky shifted into the hazy, dark blue that let us know night was coming.
I was a weekday before high tourist season, so a server was over in minutes. “Hello, you two. What can I get you?”
Drake ordered first. “Do you have any non-alcoholic beers?”
That’s right. He couldn’t drink anymore.
“Mmhm. Only Stella.”
“That’s good.”
The server wrote down his order and turned to me. “And you?”
“Do you have a virgin daiquiri or something like that?”
