by Vi Keeland
I wrapped my arms and legs around him and held on for dear life. Though I felt my orgasm building, I couldn’t have prepared myself for the intensity when it hit. Earth-shattering. Or maybe it wasn’t so much the earth breaking to pieces, but my own heart inside my chest. I cried out, letting Ford’s name sing from my lips like a hymn. He tensed and groaned into my mouth as he released inside of me.
We lay panting for a long time, his head hanging over my shoulder with his face in the blanket.
When he finally lifted it, his voice was raspy. “I’m going to miss you.”
I couldn’t return the sentiment because I was too terrified that if I opened my mouth, uncontrolled blubbering and an affirmation of love might spill out.
So instead, I hugged him and thought to myself…
I’m going to miss you, too. More than you’ll ever know.
We made love twice more that night. And the intensity and passion never dulled one bit. After round three, my head rested on his chest, and I heard Ford’s breathing become slower and deeper. He’d drifted off, but I couldn’t. I wanted to savor every last minute we had left together.
Chapter 27
* * *
Ford
I wasn’t good with goodbyes.
The last time I had to say one of any significance had been when I said goodbye to my parents. The wake had just ended, and the funeral director had asked me if I wanted to take a few moments in private to say farewell. My sister was too young and waited outside with my aunt while they shut me in the room with two caskets, lying side by side.
While most of those days were a blur, I remember sitting there all by myself so clearly. The priest had said something that stuck with me: Goodbyes are not forever and aren’t the end; they are only until we meet again.
Maybe I just needed to believe that was true that day, but those words gave me the strength to walk out of that room without actually feeling like it was the last time I’d see them.
Today felt a lot like that. I knew in my heart that letting Valentina go was what I had to do—yet that didn’t make it any damn easier. Especially since I was pretty certain if I hadn’t made a clean break last night, she would have given a shot to continuing things.
That made it so much harder. It killed me to know she was hurting, and it pained me to be the cause of it. But I also knew in my heart it had to be like this. She needed this time. She’d said it all along, and I was too selfish to believe it. I guess I have dear old Dad to thank for making me see the realities of a relationship.
That was pretty ironic to think about right now.
I carried my sister’s bags out to the car. Somehow she’d come with two suitcases and now, eight weeks later, had four, in addition to some artwork she wanted me to ship to her at school. Her flight wasn’t until tonight—almost seven hours from now. But she needed to stop at my apartment to pick up a few things she’d left behind and then had to be at the airport two hours before departure. Traffic this time of the year could be three hours—or even five—from Montauk to Manhattan, so that seven hours didn’t actually have too much padding built into it.
My sister tossed a backpack in the passenger seat of my car. “I’m going to go next door and say goodbye to Valentina. You want to come?” she said.
Is skipping saying goodbye and taking her home with me an option instead? I shook my head. “You go ahead. I have to grab a few things from the house still. I’ll stop over in a minute.”
Bella went next door, and I took a seat on the couch. I’d been up since we walked home at dawn, so all of my shit was packed and in the car already. I looked around the living room. Everything was back in its place, just like when we’d arrived at the start of the summer. Yet nothing was the same. I leaned my elbows on my knees, and my head dropped into my hands. My mind had been spinning for the better part of a week, but this morning was the worst. I felt dizzy as I went back and forth, debating with myself nonstop.
Maybe this didn’t have to be the end? Maybe we’d both be back out here next summer?
Goodbyes are not forever and aren’t the end; they are only until we meet again.
Or maybe I was fucking fooling myself just to make today easier, like I did at the funeral.
A part of me wanted to propose same time next year if we’re both single? But that wouldn’t be fair. I knew Val cared about me, had feelings for me. She needed to be free to experience and figure out what she really wanted. As much as it made me want to punch the wall at the thought—she needed to date. So I couldn’t say same time next year. But that couldn’t stop me from thinking it. When you loved someone, it was easier to go on day after day if you believed it wasn’t truly over.
Jesus Christ.
When you love someone…
Did I love her?
I thought about the way I could stare at her for hours while she slept. How I felt calmer and less stressed than I had in years. How I had zero interest in other women. How she’s the first person I wanted to call if anything good or bad happened.
I tugged at my hair.
Fuck.
When the hell did that happen?
A knock at the front screen door ripped me from my pity party. Val smiled sadly on the other side before letting herself in.
“Bella went to town to get junk food for the long day of travel. Ryan was going to get breakfast, so they went together.” She looked around the empty room. “Looks like you’re all ready to close up.”
I nodded.
She came and sat down next to me on the couch. Her face was free of all makeup, and it looked like she might be a little puffy from crying. Though we were up all night, so it could’ve been that, too.
I put my arm around her shoulder and pulled her to me. I didn’t have the strength to look directly at her and do this.
“I suck at goodbyes, Val.” I shook my head and looked down.
Her voice was soft. “So do I.”
We were quiet for a long time. I didn’t want to walk out that door without letting her know what she meant to me, but I also needed to make sure I cut the cord. Town was only a few minutes away, so we didn’t have very long before Bella and Ryan were back.
I racked my brain to come up with the right words, but then realized I didn’t have to figure out how to summarize everything I was feeling. A wise woman had once done that for me.
I turned and cupped her cheek, allowing my thumb to stroke her soft skin one last time. “A while back you asked me if it was possible to have the right feelings at the wrong time. I didn’t understand how that was possible. But I do now.”
A tear leaked from one eye. But then she raised her chin, swallowed, and forced a smile through her sadness. And God, her strength made me fall a little bit harder. I heard the crunch of gravel next door and pulled her to me for one last kiss.
We stared into each other’s eyes until Bella opened the front door. “You ready to go, pain-in-the-ass big brother?”
She was completely oblivious at what she’d walked in on. I took one last, long look at Valentina’s face and nodded. “I guess so.”
Val and I stood. “Take care of yourself, Val.”
“You, too, Ford.”
Valentina walked out first, then Bella, then me. By the time I locked the house up, Bella was already getting into the passenger seat. Val stood at the bottom of her stairs, holding onto the banister. I had to fight myself with every step I took down the stairs and to the car not to run back and grab her—scream what she meant to me and fuck letting her go.
But I wasn’t walking away for me. I was doing it for her, and somehow that gave me the strength—though just barely.
I started the car and looked up from behind the wheel one last time before backing out of the driveway. Our eyes met. Inwardly, I said what I needed to believe was possible, but on the outside I only waved.
Same time next year, maybe?
Chapter 28
* * *
Ford
Two weeks dragged by.
In a fucked-up way, I wanted that to happen. I wanted the pain, wanted to know she’d moved on. Maybe being jealous and pissed off would make it easier for me to do just that.
Tonight I’d made plans with Logan, even though I hadn’t been in the mood to go out. He’d busted my balls about being scarce all summer until I agreed to meet for drinks. I figured one drink wouldn’t kill me. We sat at the bar bullshitting for two hours. I’d intentionally picked a place I knew wasn’t a hookup hotspot. I wasn’t in the mood to spend the night talking to a bunch of women I had no interest in.
But I guess that didn’t work out too well.
“Are these seats taken?” a tall blonde said.
I looked around the bar. There were plenty of other open seats. But Logan beat me to the answer.
He pulled out the stool next to him. “We were holding them, just waiting for the two of you to get here.”
I rolled my eyes.
The women giggled.
“I’m Gianna,” the blonde said. She had on a low-cut red shirt, and her tits were spilling out of it.
“I’m Amber.” The brunette offered me her hand.
“Logan Flint.” He lifted Gianna’s hand and brought it to his lips.
No one flirted more than Logan. He didn’t know how to turn it off. It either got him laid or got him smacked—it was fifty-fifty, odds he did pretty damn well with.
“Ford.” I nodded and shook Barbie Number One’s hand.
I might not have been in the mood for company, but there was nothing wrong with my eyesight. They were both pretty. Sexy, actually. Though, I found myself comparing them to Valentina.
Val had a natural beauty, a girl-next-door look that let you see who she was right away. Most women wore masks. I’d never understood why they put so much makeup on, especially when they were young. They painted their entire faces—eyebrows, eyelids, cheekbones, noses, lips—until their skin looked artificial. They thought it hid their flaws, but to me it hid their beauty.
Logan called the bartender over and told him to put whatever the ladies were drinking on his tab. While they were ordering, he leaned over to me. “Dibs on the blonde.”
“You can have both, buddy.”
He squinted at me like I had two heads. As fucked up as it was, it felt wrong to be talking to women in a bar.
I was single and hadn’t spoken to Valentina in two weeks, yet my heart felt like it was cheating. I had to force myself to stick around and finish my beer while making conversation. Despite my mood, the ladies turned out to be pretty nice. I’d judged them because they cared about their appearances and approached men in a bar. But Amber turned out to be an attorney, and Gianna was a teacher. I found myself asking Gianna questions about her job—what she’d thought of her first year teaching and what time she got out in the afternoons.
Basically, I was desperate to know how Valentina was enjoying her first few weeks and used this woman as a substitute.
The bar had gotten busier, and they’d turned up the music, which made it difficult to hold a conversation.
Gianna held one hand to her ear. “Would you guys want to get out of here? I only live a few blocks away, and it’s so loud.”
Logan jumped at the offer. “Absolutely.” He lifted his hand for the bartender to close out the tab. I might’ve been substituting Gianna for Val in a conversation about teaching, but there was no way I was substituting her for anything else.
I leaned in to Gianna so she could hear me. “Thank you for the offer. But I have an early day tomorrow, so I’m gonna head out.”
She pouted. “You sure? Maybe just one drink?”
“Yeah. I’m sure.” I stood and reached into my pocket to pull out my billfold. Dropping a hundred on the bar, I turned to Logan, “I’m gonna head out, buddy.”
His brows drew down. “What? Why?”
“I have a meeting first thing in the morning.”
“So? You’re the boss. Push it back to the afternoon.”
“Can’t,” I said.
Though, that wasn’t exactly true. I could push back my morning marketing meeting if I wanted to. I just didn’t want to. It was probably against bro code to duck out as Logan’s wingman, but I was confident he’d still be going home with them both.
Logan attempted to object. But I’d already said goodnight to the ladies. I slapped my buddy on the back. “Talk to you later.”
He shook his head and mumbled so only I could hear him. “You’re crazy.”
Yeah, crazy about a woman I might get to see next year.
***
I took the long way home.
It wasn’t the fastest route, but it was only about seven blocks out of my way. Logan and I had met at a bar uptown, not too far from Eve’s restaurant. If I walked two blocks north and five blocks east, I could jump on the R train, and that would let me off a block from my building. So what if I’d passed the N train five blocks ago and that dropped me just as close? I was still, technically, on my way home.
I told myself I was just going to pass by, not stop, and definitely not go inside. With that agenda, I wasn’t even sure what the hell the point was; yet I was compelled to at least walk past.
Unfortunately, even though I’d slowed to a snail’s pace a building before the restaurant, when I walked past Eve’s bistro, the only thing I’d accomplished was taking twelve more steps. No one happened to be coming in or out, and Eve was nowhere in sight. Deflated—though, not sure what I’d expected to happen—I kept walking. But by the time I made it to the corner, my mind had started to reel.
It’s Friday night. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for Val to have dinner at her friend’s restaurant.
She might be inside.
Maybe I could just look in the window and see.
Yeah, I’ll just go back and take one quick look.
Turning around, I started back toward the restaurant.
Fuck. What am I doing?
What if Val’s in there with a date?
What if they walk out the door laughing and smiling just as I pass by?
I think I’m losing it.
I grumbled to myself, yet slowed as I arrived back at the restaurant door. When I was almost all the way to the other end of the long windows, I attempted to look casual. Stopping, I took out my phone and played with it. My back was to the window, so I turned around to look inside. Only there was too much glare, and all I could see was a reflection of myself. I let out a sigh of frustration, shoved my phone in my pocket, and turned to walk away once again.
But I only made it three steps.
“Fuck this,” I groaned. I had to know. Backing up to the window once again, I cupped my hands to peer inside, my nose pressed to the glass. I could see inside now, but there wasn’t too much going on. A few tables were filled, but the restaurant was half empty—which I suppose made sense, since it was getting pretty late. I surveyed the room, scanning each table. At one point, I saw a flash of dark, curly hair, and for half a second I got excited…though, it turned out not to be her.
My shoulders slumped. I’d been looking into the room and not directly in front of me, so a knock on the glass startled me. I finally looked at the couple sitting literally right on the other side of where my face was pressed. The guy held up his hands in the universal what the fuck are you doing gesture. Shit.
I waved an apology and took off.
Perfect. Now I’m not just watching her Match account, Instagram, and Facebook. I’m turning into a full-fledged stalker. I needed to go the hell home.
***
At least one relationship from
Match.com had worked out.
A few weeks later, I sat in the conference room with my marketing team going through the first two months of results from our advertising campaign. It turned out to be the best bang for our buck we’d ever had—more successful than billboards, newspaper ads, and advertising in commercial real estate mags.
The marketing team had come up with a few new advertisements to run—four video ads—each one targeting a different demographic. So far, we’d only used static graphics. Each twenty-second video featured a different couple who’d met on Match.com and also used shared office space. Apparently, people ate up those short vignettes where the happy couple tells their bullshit love story, so the click rates are through the roof.
Though today, I fucking hated them. Screw these happy people when I have to be miserable.
The spots were shot in our offices, and the couples mentioned why they loved using our shared workspace. They seemed more like Match.com success stories than advertising, but I guessed that was the point. I was able to stomach two, anxious to be done with the happy couples projected onto the whiteboard.
The third couple came on the screen, and a woman who was probably in her mid-thirties said, “My parents are divorced. I’m divorced. Ron was the first person I met on Match.com.”
Ron piped in, smiling at her. “We hit it off, but she didn’t want a relationship.”
The camera zoomed down to the man’s knee, where the woman laid her hand. “I went out with a bunch of men because it felt like I was supposed to.” She shrugged. “But I just kept thinking about Ron.”
