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A quiet thud followed by a laughing moan comes from their direction, but I don’t bother looking.
I stare at my son, whose cheeks are tear-streaked and mottled red from crying.
Pushing to my feet, I start to walk, talking quietly to my brokenhearted boy.
“We had to let her go, Otto. I know it feels bad, but someone had to put her first… even if she wasn’t willing to do it herself.”
That’s what I keep telling myself. What I need to believe, because it’s the only fucking thing keeping me from getting on a plane and going after her. Begging her to come back to us. To let me show her that I can make her happy.
Otto squirms, restless and irritable. Because the one he wants, the one he loves isn’t here.
“Plane leave yet?” Bowie asks as Boomer starts clearing water bottles.
I nod and try to breathe through the pain in my chest. “Half hour ago.”
On-time departure. Good weather between here and France.
Turning to the window, I stare out at the streets below.
A heavy hand claps my shoulder, giving it a bracing squeeze.
Boomer. “Hey, man, we’re gonna get out of here. You got the new nanny coming over this afternoon?”
“Tomorrow.” I called the service on my way back from O’Hare and asked them to push back the start date until tomorrow. My boy and I need—
I let out a choked laugh, thinking back to that afternoon before Otto was born.
Five minutes. She’d needed five minutes to mourn her dead houseplant. The symbolic loss of her dreams. But me? I’m not sure five years will be enough.
“Well, text if you need anything.”
I need Nora. “We’ll be fine.”
The guys grab their coats, letting themselves out.
Or not quite. “Hey, man, uhh, looks like maybe you sent something to the wrong address again.”
“Huh?” I turn to Boomer.
He shrugs. “Delivery down the hall.”
Nora would be doubled over, but the last thing I need is a reminder of all the ways I fucked up with her.
“What is it?” I ask, meeting him at the door.
“Dunno. Looks important.” Boomer scoops Otto out of my arms. “You’re going to need two hands for this one.”
There’s a weird look on his face as I step past him into the hall and stop short, the air punched from my lungs at the sight of Nora wrestling her two too-small suitcases out of the elevator.
“Nora?” Her name sounds rusty, like it’s been the thousand years it feels like since I’ve said it. Like there’s too much emotion fighting to free it from my throat.
Her head comes up, and our eyes meet as she drops her bags and starts walking toward me.
I don’t wait, closing the distance between us in a blink, grabbing her against me for one critical heartbeat, then pushing her back so I can cup her precious, beautiful, teary face with my hands. “What are you—”
Except, I don’t fucking care what, or why, or how. Only that she’s here.
My mouth comes down on hers in the crushing kiss it took everything I had not to take at the airport. She grips my shirt, pulling me closer, opening wider, whimpering in that way that has me backing her to the wall.
