by Marni Mann
My face was buried in his chest, hands clinging to his sweatshirt, as I breathed him in.
I’d thought about this moment, and I’d tried to prepare myself for it, so when the emotions came, I would be able to handle them. Except they were here, bursting through my chest, dripping from my eyes.
And I was falling apart, and I couldn’t stop it.
As my hands readjusted, a fear came through me, reminding me that, in just a few minutes, I wouldn’t be able to touch him. It was consuming that when I went to take a breath, I couldn’t get the air in. “This can’t be the last time I see you.”
His lips pressed into the top of my head. “I hope it won’t be.”
There was another whistle and shouting, and from this angle, I wasn’t able to tell if it was directed at our taxi or a different one.
But when Oliver sighed, “Damn it,” I took that as my answer.
But I couldn’t go. Not yet. I needed just a few more seconds with him. “I’m going to m-miss you.”
One of his arms released me, and another shot of terror burst through my chest, thinking he was letting me go until I realized he was only bringing me closer. And now, with his lips pressed into my hair, I felt each of his exhales, each grunt of emotion.
And something inside me released.
It hadn’t happened in the days building up to this moment when I shed so many tears. It was a sensation I’d never felt before, a raw gnawing that was like an animal tearing through me. “Oh God.”
The pain was too much. I had to make it stop. I had to make this right somehow because I couldn’t think past not being able to see him again.
“Oliver,” I cried, pulling my face away, so I could look at his. “I …” There were so many thoughts; they were moving in all different directions. I couldn’t pull them together, and I couldn’t get them straight. “Tell me not to go,” I cried out, and I couldn’t even see him through the tears. “Tell me not to get on the plane, and I’ll give up the internship. I’ll give up everything, and I’ll stay here with you.” I swallowed, and air shot through my lips because there were so many tears and no breath. “Just tell me, Oliver …”
I felt movement, and I was wrapped in him again, filled with a warmth that didn’t make it beyond my skin.
“Fuck …” There was so much pain in his voice. “Chloe, do you know how badly I want to say those words to you?” His hand was on the back of my head, tilting my chin so I could meet his lips. “But I can’t. I want you to have this internship more than anything, and I’m not going to be the one to take it away from you.”
“B-but I’d do it … for y-you.”
His mouth was on mine, kissing me with a fierceness. “And I fucking love you for that, but I’d never let you.”
My tears were making our lips wet, the truth of his statement causing them to drip faster. “H-how do I”—my chest felt like it was going to cave—“s-say good-bye to you?”
“Sweet girl …” He pressed his nose to mine, breathing so heavy, not saying anything for a few seconds. “I know how you’re going to be when you get back, so I want you to listen to me.” He made sure I could see his eyes, and that was when the emotion started to fill them. “I want you to get your arse out there with Molly and party like hell and have the time of your fucking life.” He tightened his hands as he spoke, emphasizing each word, his eyes now getting so watery that it was causing me to cry harder. “Make me and my mates proud, okay?” He paused, and my throat trembled as the first tear fell over his lid. “If you need anything, I’m here.”
One of my hands released his shirt, and I lifted it to his beard, knowing the tear was in there somewhere. “Oliver …” I sniffled.
And he just stared at me, not saying a word, holding me with such firmness.
I was already shaking, but I felt it get worse.
Because we were here.
At our last second.
Oh God.
He finally whispered, “My beautiful, sweet girl,” and there was so much pain in his voice that it sent a rawness through me that made my stomach ache. “Promise me something …”
I couldn’t answer; I just stared at him and continued to hold his face.
“Promise you won’t ever forget me.”
With the streams falling from my lids, my vision was now completely gone. But I didn’t need it because his lips were on mine. I sucked in his breath, and I circled my arms around his neck. I felt him give me everything he had left.
“Chloe,” he said so softly.
And I knew it was over.
The kiss.
The moment.
Us.
My eyes opened, and I stared into his face. “You were so perfect to me, Oliver. I will”—sobs racked my chest—“never forget that.”
“I love you.” His mouth was on mine again, but it was a gentle kiss, and I knew his tears were touching mine. And the whole moment was like a breath, over far too quickly.
As impossible as this felt, I had to be the one to leave.
I forced my fingers to release their grip on his sweatshirt, my arms dropping to my sides. “I love you … too.” I gasped, my hand going to my chest to help the air move through it.
I couldn’t say any more; it would be too final, and I just couldn’t handle that right now.
So, I stood there, taking in the feel of him, doing a final sweep.
And then his hands were off me, and he took a step back and said, “I’m going to watch you walk away.”
I didn’t think I could cry harder.
I didn’t think the tears could drip faster.
But both were happening, and I couldn’t control them.
As I took one final look at the man I loved, I clung to the two suitcase handles, squeezing the plastic into my palms.
Good-bye, Oliver.
I turned around and heard him choke, “Bye, Chloe,” as I walked through the glass doors of the terminal.
I waited until I was around the corner, away from the entrance and his line of sight before I rolled my bags to a corner.
And I completely fucking lost it.
Twenty
“Don’t let go,” I cried the second Molly’s arms were around me.
I knew there were people everywhere in baggage claim, several probably staring at us, but I didn’t care. The tears had been flowing since I left Oliver at the airport, and there was no stopping them.
“Hug me tighter.”
“Oh, babe.” Her hands were in the center of my back, squeezing me with half the strength Oliver had used, her scent flowery and wrong but so right. “That flight had to be hell.”
I waited for my chest to calm a little before I said, “The poor man next to me felt so bad that he hugged me at one point.”
“A cocktail would have been much better.”
“I left snot on his shirt.”
“Good girl.”
My arms tightened around her. “I can’t laugh, Molly. Maybe one day. But not today.”
She leaned back and looked at me. “Let’s get you home and get you sloshed. Sound good?”
I shook my head, but it wasn’t for the reason she thought. “Molly …” The words burned in my throat. “He let me go.”
She stared at me for several seconds, reaching into her pocket for a tissue that she held to my face. “Honey, that’s because he’s a good man. If he had told you to stay, you would have.”
“I know.”
“And, babe, that would have been a huge mistake.” She took out another tissue since the first one was soaked and dabbed it over my cheeks. “I know it’s hard to see this right now, but you’re in your senior year with an opportunity of a lifetime. This is where you’re supposed to be.”
She was always so tough, but I needed to hear it.
Still, I couldn’t get past one thing. “He watched me walk away.” I could tell she’d heard me even though I’d whispered.
“And I bet that was the hardest thing Oliver has ever done.” She looped he
r arm through mine. “I’ve got the vodka already waiting for us in the freezer and every dessert imaginable in our kitchen. We’ll get through this.”
“I don’t know.”
“Trust me.”
Me: Home safe and sound. xo
Oliver: I miss you.
Me: More than you could ever know.
Oliver: Good luck on your first day. You’re going to kill it.
Me: Aww. The perfect message to wake up to. Thank you.
Oliver: How was it? Did you survive day one?
Me: It was amazing. Really, really amazing, and I’m one lucky girl.
Oliver: That makes me so fucking happy. Go have fun with Molly and remember, celebrate your arse off.
Me: Promise. xo
Me: I know I commented on your post, but I’m just so excited you got the job you wanted. Now, I’m the one who’s proud of you. You looked great in that suit, by the way. Missing you.
Oliver: I think I just got over my hangover. My mates made sure I did plenty of celebrating last night. Everyone was asking for you at the pub. I promised them all I’d say hi.
Oliver: Miss you, sweet girl.
Oliver: You’ve got every man in England, including myself, drooling over the American flag. Nice bikini, gorgeous. Happy Independence Day.
Me: Maybe that was my plan all along. ;)
Me: Seeing Jake sing karaoke was one of the funniest things I’ve ever watched. Looks like your trip to Ibiza was incredible.
Oliver: We had a blast, but we all agreed America would have been great too. I know uni is starting soon if it hasn’t already. Have a good start, and remember what I said …
Me: I’m making you proud, Oliver. Every day.
I knew it would happen one day. I’d be scrolling through my feed, and I’d come across a picture of Oliver with another girl. And I knew it would be hard, but I hadn’t expected to feel like this.
We weren’t talking every day; we weren’t even talking every few weeks.
But, God, I loved him.
Still.
And I was clinging to our memories, but I was the only one doing it because he had found someone else.
I didn’t know who she was; she wasn’t someone I’d met before.
It didn’t matter. She was there … and I wasn’t.
I had known one of us would move on far sooner than the other, and there was no question who it would be.
I just hadn’t expected it to change everything.
My finger hovered over his profile while I took several deep breaths. His account was private. If I unfollowed him, I would lose access to his pictures and to his life.
But it was a life that no longer included me.
I clicked Unfollow, and then I removed him from my account.
I pulled the blanket over my head, burying myself in my bed, and I let out the deepest, most gut-wrenching scream.
But it was silent.
Part Two
I’ve found forever … in you.
Twenty-One
“Chloe, do you see something wrong with this picture?” Molly asked, staring at me from the doorway of my closet with her hands on her hips.
“I’m getting up.” I sighed, stretching my toes, feeling the ache from wearing heels all day. “I just need five more minutes, and then I’ll get dressed.”
I had been at the office until almost ten last night and back there again at six this morning.
Even my hair was tired.
But I’d promised Molly I would go out with her, and there was absolutely no way she was going to let me cancel.
“One more minute, and you’re going to be out cold.” She put her finger in the air and rolled it toward her. “Get over here, missy.”
Reluctantly, I threw the blanket off and climbed out of bed. “Where did all your energy come from? Did you call in sick and sleep all day and not tell me?” I asked, making my way over to her.
“I’ve had three Red Bulls, and I’m getting laid tonight. That should explain everything.”
I laughed. “God, I love you. Now, what do you want me to wear?”
She grinned as she reached for one of the hangers. “This.”
She took a black dress off the rack that I’d bought a few weeks ago at a boutique by my office. It was tight in the areas it needed to be, accentuating every curve on my body. And because all I did was work, I had nowhere to wear it.
“Aren’t we just going to meet your boyfriend and his colleagues? This dress isn’t exactly office attire.”
She stared at me, brows raised. “I feel like you just proved your own point.”
As I looked down, I caught a glimpse of my hands, seeing how badly I needed a manicure. In fact, all of me needed to be polished. That was what happened when you were in your first year of employment for Back Bay Digital. To stand out among the other full-time employees, I worked long, grueling hours, I said yes to everything management asked, and I answered my phone no matter what time it rang.
But I was so tired; I couldn’t even keep my eyes open.
Her hands went to my shoulders, and her face softened. “I haven’t seen you in five days, and I miss my best friend.” She released me and took a step toward the door. “I’m going to go pour you a Red Bull.”
“Add some vodka to it,” I shouted when she walked out, and I began stripping off the black pants and shirt I’d worn to work.
I covered myself in a robe and hurried into the shower, in there just long enough to wash my body. By the time I returned to my room, my skin slathered in lotion, there was a Red Bull on ice waiting for me on the dresser.
I stood in front of the mirror, sipping the energy drink, and I started to put on my makeup, adding eyeliner and bronzer before curling each section of my hair. I waited until my skin was fully dry before I carefully slipped on the dress. I finished the outfit with a pair of heels and perfume that I sprayed under my ears.
It was a spot Oliver had taught me about.
I took a deep breath, feeling the chills run through my body—something that still happened every time I thought of him.
One thing I’d learned over the last twelve months, which was how long it had been since I spoke to him, was that time wasn’t going to push Oliver Bennett out of my mind. He was going to live there forever, and I just had to accept it.
It was a good thing the memories I had of him were amazing.
“Stunning,” Molly purred from behind me.
I was still holding the perfume bottle in my hand, still staring at it.
“Thank you.” I set it down and took a final look at myself. “God, this dress was a good find.”
She pulled a piece of hair off my cheek. “I knew it was going to look good on you. Ready?”
I nodded and grabbed my clutch. I followed her into the living room where she picked up my keys off the table and handed them to me along with my jacket.
As I put them in my bag, I said, “What am I going to do when you move in with your boyfriend? Who’s going to remember to always pack my keys?”
She put her hand on top of mine and walked with me to the door. “We’ll make sure to find you a building with a doorman, so there will always be someone there to rescue you. Now, let’s go get a drink.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “I know it’s coming soon, and I’m not at all ready for it.”
She had met him the last semester of our senior year when she was doing her internship. She was picking up the coffee for her team when Marshall was walking by and saw her struggling with opening the door. He got her number, and they had been dating for almost a year.
She took a step closer and wrapped her arms around my neck. “We need to get you dating.”
“Find me someone who’s worth it.”
Her smile reached all the way to her eyes. “Now, I’m on a mission.”
I giggled again and grabbed her hand, looping our arms as I led us to the door. We had a four-block walk ahead of us and six stops on the train, and we were already late.
“The Red Bull is making these heels feel like clouds. Let’s hurry before that wears off.”
She laughed just as hard and squeezed my arm on the way out.
Twenty-Two
“What can I get you?” the bartender asked, his hands hovering, waiting to reach for one of the bottles.
I gripped the edge of the bar top, holding the cold leather, and said, “Prosecco, please.”
The speakeasy wasn’t too packed tonight, just a steady business crowd filling the main space and the small seating nooks that were like little dens built into the perimeter.
My eyes were falling over the row of wine, studying the labels, when I felt a piece of fabric brush across the side of my arm. I turned just in time to see a dark suit jacket leaving my skin, and with it came a scent. One that was so sharp and demanding—the smell of power if it came in a bottle.
I couldn’t believe how much I liked it.
My gaze traveled higher to the silk tie, the broad shoulders, and the full frame that was at least six-three and all suit. And I found myself holding in my breath as I took in this absolutely gorgeous man with thick black hair and a clean-shaven face, blue eyes so dark that they looked navy.
“Have you ordered?” he asked in a rich, deep voice.
“He’s making mine now.”
It was easy to see there was nothing raw about this man. He had a polished, educated demeanor with a richness that went well beyond the cost of his suit.
He smiled, and I found myself sucked into it, unable to look away. “What’s your name?”
With a stare as invasive as his, one I felt move straight through me, it seemed my name was something he should certainly know at this point.
“Chloe Kennedy.”
He turned his body so he was now facing me, showing me details I hadn’t picked up before—a narrow, angular nose and tiny wrinkles at the sides of his eyes. His hand reached forward, and when it surrounded mine, he said, “Lance Hamilton.”
