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Her jasmine scent lingers in my bed, and I realize what last night was; it was closure, goodbye sex, and as incredible as it felt to have her beneath me, I need to remember she’s leaving in three weeks. I got exactly what I started out to get—all of her, and she gave her love willingly. I refused to accept that love and now I’m getting what I deserve—loneliness and the feeling of desertion.
Maybe if I’d told her about the job and told her I wanted her to stay, perhaps she never would have applied in the first place. Maybe she’d be lying in my bed now, smiling up at me, ready to give me more of that love, willing to commit her heart and body to me and only me. Instead, I let my selfish pride get in the way. Now, I have no one to blame but myself for this gut-wrenching feeling.
Moving with quick steps, I search for clean clothes. I don’t know why the hell I think this is a good idea, but I need to see her before she leaves. I need to fix everything I’ve destroyed.
Walking into the airport, I purchase a ticket to Atlanta without a second thought, search for a monitor, then scan the departing flights and their departure gates. Seeing the one I need, I walk briskly to the C4 gate where Emma will be. My heart rate speeds up as I near. I’m anxious to see her and worried she won’t be happy to see me. Waiting to get through security, I search for her. She’s nowhere to be found and this line is far too long. Taking out my phone, I call her. It goes straight to voicemail. Damn it.
With no choice, but to wait in line, I stand with arms crossed and my patience wearing thin as the process of getting travelers through moves painfully slow.
Twenty minutes later, I’m given the okay by the airport security employee, then nearly jog to find Emma’s gate. Another two sections and I see her dark hair and stunning face in the distance. She’s standing in line next to a young, good-looking man, her smile wide. They’re talking, their phones raised as if exchanging numbers. The sight brings me to a dead stop. This is exactly why my idea to come for her was a mistake.
It’s a decision I suddenly regret making. I was right. She’s young and beautiful. It’s only a matter of time before I’m just a memory—a memory of a flawed man who rejected her. I quickly turn before she sees me. With heavy footed steps, I shove down the anger and frustration, making my way to the exit.
“Grayson!”
Her voice stalls me. I turn to see her eyes wide, her expression revealing her shock. She left the boarding line to catch me.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, her tone full of surprise.
My eyes dart to the young man watching her from the boarding line, then back to her. “Nothing, it was a mistake to come.”
“Grayson, wait.” Her hand reaches for mine, stopping me from leaving.
The feel of her soft hand stirs my emotions and makes what I’m about to say painfully difficult. With my eyes set on hers, I shut down my emotions, giving her the all-business tone. “You were a mistake. Last night was a mistake. You made the right decision taking this job.” Tears show in her eyes and I force away the pain it causes me.
She shakes her head. “I don’t believe you. That’s not what you came here to tell me. We promised not to lie to each other. You’re lying to me now.”
“You lied too, Emma. You told me you loved me, then you took this job as if I meant nothing to you.”
Her eyes narrow, but not entirely with anger, but confusion, too. “I took the job only because you don’t want me. I no longer have a reason to stay. I can’t take seeing you every day, desperate for your touch, longing for you to love me the way I love you. I have no choice but to move on. I won’t let another man break me.”
Taking her hands in mine, I affectionately rub my thumbs over them as I look into her sad eyes. The pain I see in them, it’s all because of me. I did this to her. I did this to us. “I never wanted to break you or hurt you. I’m the one who’s broken. I didn’t realize what you meant to me until you made me face the thought of never having you in my arms again—” I lean my head against hers as the tears trickle down her cheeks “—of never seeing your beautiful smile every time you walk into the room, never hearing you moan from my touch. I’ve been selfish, Emma, too selfish and prideful to admit what you mean to me. Can you forgive me?”
Last call for boarding flight 422 to Atlanta. The airport attendants voice echoes around us, tearing through our conversation.
Emma raises her head and wipes away her tears. “I have to go, Grayson. I wish you would have told me this sooner. I’m sorry I have to leave. I’ll call you when I get to Atlanta.”
Her hand breaks away and I watch her back until she gathers her luggage bag and disappears into the boarding hall. Seeing her leave tears away at my ego, humbling me in a way I never thought possible.
The ride back to my condo is too long, giving me far too much time to think. What if it’s too late? What if after all I’ve done to her, she’s ready to move on? What if I’ve destroyed the best thing that’s ever happened to me?
Back at the condo, I shower and get dressed for work, ready for a needed distraction to keep my mind off Emma until I can see her again. Next time, I’ll fight harder. I’ll do whatever it takes to get her to stay. I have to learn to trust her like she so willingly trusted me. I have to stop assuming the worst and start believing in what is possible between us.
I’m about to leave the condo when my phone rings in my pocket, it’s Claire.
I try to make out what she’s saying in between her sobs. “Turn…on…the TV.”
I rush to the remote and turn to the news. My knees give out beneath me and I fall onto the couch. The words rush across my screen in bold letters; FLIGHT 422 TO ATLANTA CRASHED EARLY THIS MORNING. 23 CONFIRMED DEAD. UPDATES TO FOLLOW.
With trembling hands, I dial Emma’s phone. “Pick up, Princess. Please pick up.”
Her phone goes straight to voicemail and fear seizes me. All this time I took for granted what I had right in front of me, and now I might have lost her completely.
“Emma, don’t be gone. Please, answer your phone.” I call again and it cuts to voicemail.
I immediately dial Claire back as panic surges through me. She answers, still sobbing into the receiver. “Claire, I need you to call all the local hospitals. We need to find out if she’s been brought to one.”
“Ok,” she whimpers. “I’ll start calling them.”
