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I don’t ask questions on if or when. I just leave the stuff because it’s all I have left of her. And I’m not ready to move on.
Once my door is unlocked, I push it open but stop. As I stand there frozen in time, my breathing slows, and my heartbeat picks up. And then I hear it . . .
“Hey there, St. James.”
She’s there, not fifteen feet in front of me. How does she manage to pull off cool and casual so effortlessly? Like her world wasn’t turned upside down like mine?
It doesn’t matter when that smile that carries so many emotions grows when she sees me. Her hair is lighter, I assume from the West Coast sunshine, her skin tanner, making me curious if it’s even all over.
But it’s her eyes. . . Marlow’s eyes still carry the burning torch inside. Faith. Hope. Whatever this is, I’ll take it.
I can’t pull off casual, not when she’s right in front of me after all this time. I still make a concerted effort. “Hi, Marché, what brings you by?”
“I was in the neighborhood.” I grin, really liking her in my neighborhood again.
Her hand is anchored to the stone counter, grounding her to the apartment. I’m looking right at her. Is she real or an apparition haunting me like her ghost has done the past two months?
Twisting her foot against the other, she tilts and looks me over, seeming to like what she sees. Maybe she does have some tells. “You look like you need some sun.”
“The sun is overrated. I prefer basking in the shadows of gray skyscrapers.” That leaves her smiling, and in turn, me as well.
She takes a breath that fills her chest, and then says, “I miss the sound of the city and the vibration of the streets.”
I’ve felt every breath since walking in. I start down the short entry just to feel the grace of her presence up close once again. A queen is fine, but that’s not what Marlow is to me. She’s my muse, my safe place, a goddess I have the pleasure of worshiping. My lover. My savior. She’s my heart and the soul that makes me feel alive again.
Reaching out to touch her, our hands bond, fingers weaving together between us. She whispers, “I miss so much about this city, but most of all, I miss you.”
“I missed you, too.”
“Why are we not together?”
“Because the East and West Coasts are just too fucking far apart.”
She nods but then asks, “Why are we not texting? Or calling to see how our day went?” Tears begin to glisten in the corners of her eyes. She licks her lips and then bites the bottom one.
“Stubbornness or pain. I’m not quite sure which. It may have been a mixture of both. It’s been a mystery to me as well.”
She looks down and then says, “I’ve been hurt before. I used to be scared to commit to anyone, to rely on someone who would eventually hurt me. But I’m more afraid of losing you, Jackson.” She moves closer, the tips of our shoes pressed together. “But I realized I needed to. You left a gaping hole inside me that dealing with my dad’s care, his dieticians, cardiologists, and the big life he leads could never fill.”
With our hands still connected, I take another step closer. “I can’t shield you from your problems or the negative side of life. There will be ups and downs, but I’ll be there by your side every step of the way.”
Reaching out, she runs her hand over my chest and stops above my heart. “I can handle what life throws at me. I was never as fragile as I once believed. But you need to let me in. You need to let me fight with you. That can only happen if you’re honest and lean on me when life throws obstacles in your direction. You don’t always need to be the hero, Jackson. Sometimes, I can take the lead.”
Remembering what Nick said earlier. I may not have liked it, but he’s right. It’s time to set my weapons down and be open to being a team instead of an island of one. I was never bothered by returning to an empty house. I was bothered by not returning home to Marlow. “Sounds like a good time to make new rules.”
“I agree.” A smile finally springs into place. “But why are we still so far apart?”
“Good damn question.” Our mouths crash together, and our lips find purchase in each other, just like our hearts.
Hands in hair.
Tangled limbs.
Tugging at shirts.
The sweet taste of sunshine that traveled on her lips.
The heat of my skin from rushing home so I could try calling her again.
Ripping us apart has to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I do because I have questions, and only she has the answers. “I’m so glad to have you here again, but how is it possible?” I can’t stop touching her, tucking hair behind her ear, staring at the face I had memorized just to see if anything changed. Despite my need to be all over her at once, I need to make sure that she’s staying if I kiss her again.
