He stared into his beer, swallowing hard against a lump in his throat.
“I’m . . . Pluto. Maybe I used to be a planet. But a whole collective of scientists has decided I just don’t measure up. How long before Sarah sees that for herself? Again.”
He shook his head. “I can’t do that again. Not with her.”
His heart just couldn’t take that kind of rejection again.
Maisie studied him closely, but now her gaze was more sympathetic. Her tone was softer.
“Let me see if I’m following. Sarah is the sun, and you think you’re Pluto.”
“Exactly.”
Now she was getting it. Yet another load of weight seemed to be lifted from his shoulder, even as the pit in his stomach sank deeper.
“You don’t think very much of yourself or Sarah, do you?” The ice was back in Maisie’s tone.
“Wait. I didn’t say—“
“Yes, you did. If you really think you’re Pluto that says more about you than Sarah. I had no idea you lacked confidence. You’re a smart guy with a big heart. Maybe you need counseling or something.”
Once again, he couldn’t deny that what his sister was saying held anything but the truth. That didn’t make it any easier to accept.
“I just . . .”
He ran a hand over his hair, scratching his head the way their mom did when he wasn’t feeling well. “I care about Sarah. Okay? More than anything. More than I want.”
“Then why don’t you go for her?”
“Because. . .” The pang in his heart returned as he thought about never being with her again.
“Because I can’t have her leave me again. That’s all she’ll do. She wants to see the world, and I . . . Can’t go with her.”
“Why not?”
“You know why.”
“Your fear of flying?”
She waited for his nod. “I get it. That’s a very real thing. But maybe it’s time you got help for that.”
Again, she was suggesting he seek therapy. And, again, she might be onto something. He didn’t know what to say. Maisie, on the other hand, didn’t seem to be at any loss for words.
“Look, I know things ended badly between the two of you before. I don’t know why. I don’t need to know.”
She lowered her head and her voice. “But you can’t throw away a chance at true love because you’re afraid—of flying or of having your heart broken. That’s life, big brother. There’s always risk. But you won’t get anywhere if you don’t try.”
Beck rubbed his forehead with one hand, processing everything Maisie had just thrown at him. She was right. He knew that. He’d been scared earlier, and that’s why he’d pushed Sarah away. Like his sister had pointed out, it said more about him than Sarah.
More, it had been unfair to Sarah—the projection and his failure to tell her the truth.
“I have to talk to Sarah,” he said.
“Yes, you do.”
“I should go.”
If he left now, he’d be back at Sarah’s place in ten minutes. Maybe he should pick up some flowers on the way. That seemed totally cliché, but maybe that would work in his favor in this instance.
The look on Maisie’s face gave him pause.
“What?”
“You’re not going to find Sarah at home.”
“Why not?”
“Sarah told me she’d changed her flight. She was already at the airport when I called her.”
“When does her flight leave?”
Maisie glanced at her watch. “Ten minutes ago.”
Beck’s shoulders sank. Timing really had never been on their side. Then or now. Only now he wasn’t going to let it stand in his way. He couldn’t.
“I need to talk to Sarah,” he said again. “I just have to figure this out.”
“You will,” Maisie told him cheerfully, picking up her pizza. “By the way, for what it’s worth, Pluto is still my favorite planet. No matter what that hack Neil deGrasse Tyson and his buddies say.”
Chapter Twelve
Parc Güell was as beautiful as everyone said. After climbing what seemed like miles of cobblestone steps, Sarah reached el Turó de les Tres Creus in time to watch the sunrise over the Balearic Sea. The scent of lilac that had followed her up the mountain lingered as she took in the view of Barcelona below. A few modern skyscrapers marred the otherwise perfect view of the Catalan Gothic buildings left from the Middle Ages and blended with the Modernist structures popularized by Antoni Gaudí a century before.
Raising her phone, she framed the rays of pink and yellow light reflecting in the water between two carob trees on her screen. Click.
She pulled the image up, and her heart sank. The photo didn’t do reality justice. She tried five more times before giving up on trying to capture the perfection of the moment. Her memory would have to do.
If she and Beck were still speaking, she’d use this as an example of why a person had to see things for themselves. Though virtually a perfectly composed photo, it didn’t show the rustle of the wind through the trees or catch the hint of lilac in the air.
If she and Beck were still speaking, she’d show him the pictures she’d snapped of the Chartres Cathedral during her trip across Northern France a couple weeks earlier. Though she’d caught the evolving styles of medieval art carved into the building over centuries, it didn’t show how small a person felt in the shadow of the spires that had stood for nearly a millennium.
Then the photos of the Changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace, which didn’t show the feel of warm spring raindrops on her cheeks.
The picture of Stonehenge, which didn’t quite capture the brilliance of the mid-day light bouncing from the massive rocks.
And every other photo she’d taken of every other spot, and how the pictures never completely showed the reality of the experience.
But mostly, if she and Beck were still speaking, she would tell him how much she missed him. That she’d thought of him at every one of those places and the moments in between.
She should be angry. Furious that he’d wormed his way back into her head and heart, making it impossible for her to enjoy the sites she’d dreamed of visiting. She should be annoyed by how many times she’d found herself distracted in meetings during what should have been a global victory tour for GO’s successful launch.
Rationally, it didn’t make sense that he still flooded her every thought. Not when they’d only spent a week together. This last time. Yet everywhere she looked, there he was. She could still feel the pressure of his mouth against hers. The taste of the cinnamon gum he chewed on the tip of her tongue. The way his teasing forced a laugh out of her, even when stress nagged at the pit of her stomach.
She should hate—or at the very least, resent—him, but she didn’t. Couldn’t. Not when the longing was so strong.
Beside her, Bryant lowered his own camera and sighed. As a silent partner in her new venture, and one of her oldest friends, he’d arrived a few days before to join her for this leg of the trip.
“You’re doing it again,” he said.
“What?”
“Standing in front of one of the most incredible things a person can see and looking like it’s falling apart in front of you.”
“That’s awfully deep for a tech guy.”
Bryant ignored her jab and lifted the camera for a moment. Click. He glanced down at the display screen and then handed the camera over.
“See what I mean?”
She didn’t particularly want to play this game. Didn’t particularly want his opinion or his—or anyone’s—company. But the sooner she gave in and humored him, the sooner they could go back to the hotel, where she could watch TV on her laptop.
Maybe Beck was right. Maybe you didn’t really need to travel the world to find bliss.
Resolved to get this over with—fast—she looked at the camera’s display. Her face filled the screen. And, curse him, Bryant was right. She looked about as forlorn as she’d ever been. Over
a man. She’d have to kick her own butt as soon as she had the energy.
She wordlessly handed the camera back to Bryant and sank to perch on a boulder. Sitting on the other side, Bryant studied her.
“Is this about the guy?”
Bryant had always been able to see clearly through her. “I miss him.”
“Then why don’t you tell him?”
She snorted. “Right, because it’s that easy.”
“Isn’t it though?”
Shaking her head, she shoved on her sunglasses. “You don’t understand. It won’t work.”
“Why not?”
It was a simple enough question, but one without an easy answer. “He said he didn’t want me.”
Bryant placed a hand on her arm.
“Did he actually say that? Is it possible he was making excuses? That maybe he’s scared?”
“He wouldn’t be the first man scared off by a strong woman.” And she couldn’t—wouldn’t—change who she was, so that was on him.
“I don’t mean like that. I mean . . .”
Bryant pulled off his baseball cap and ran his hand over his shaved head. “It didn’t work out between the two of you before. Right?”
“Right.”
“You said it was because of bad timing.”
She shrugged. “I was busy. We were building an empire.”
“And that meant you didn’t have time for love?”
She opened her mouth to say something, but she didn’t have a quick response. No excuse. So instead she stared straight ahead.
Bryant grinned. “I’m no shrink. But is it possible you’ve always kept him at a distance because you were afraid love might get in the way of your plans?”
She hated to admit it, but it was. “This time was different. I told him I’d be back. He said . . .”
Very little. And it wasn’t worth repeating. Not when she’d already given Bryant the rundown.
Bryant took her hand until she faced him. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Both before and now. He’s crazy about you.”
“Not enough to wait a few weeks.”
“Don’t you think there has to be more to the story?”
Sarah shook her head. “So what’s the real issue?”
“Only he can explain that.”
Bryant tucked his hands in his pockets and stared out across Barcelona. “Maybe Beck is having a hard time believing that you’re really all in this time. Maybe he’s worried about getting left behind again.”
Suddenly, it all became clear. And his words to her in their last conversation came back. In their time together, she had both literally and figuratively kept Beck at arm’s length. Then and now. She’d thought inviting him along on her trip around the world was enough to show him that she cared. That she wanted to build a life with him. But she had never actually said the words.
More, she’d expected him to magically get over a longtime fear of flying to follow her. It was a lot to ask of a person when she hadn’t given him anything of herself in return.
Well, that was about to change.
Barely two hours later, Sarah stood in line at the Barcelona-El Prat Airport. For the first time in her life, she’d shoved items into her suitcase with no regard for wrinkling or ideal storage. It didn’t matter. She had a flight to catch.
On their fast-paced trip down the mountain, Sarah had considered calling Beck just as soon as he was awake. But there were some things that just had to be done in person. With Bryant promising to cover for her at the meetings she had scheduled tomorrow afternoon in Berlin, she’d booked the first ticket back to the U.S. If everything stayed on schedule, she’d be back in Lincoln in time for dinner.
The plane from Minneapolis pulled into the gate. After a crew cleaned and refueled the plane, she and her fellow passengers would board it for a return trip. It would be another hour at least, but she was too nervous to kill time exploring any of the shops or restaurants. She still hadn’t completely worked out what she would say once she came face-to-face with Beck. Everything she’d tried seemed cliché. Like it had been pulled directly straight from a movie.
An announcement came over the intercom as the doors to the Minneapolis flight opened. As a distraction rather than out of interest, Sarah watched the arrivals exit the jet bridge. After more than eleven hours on a flight, they streamed out in a near zombie-like state. She’d relate if she wasn’t so jittery.
The only person with any energy was a toddler, who was playing hopscotch in the floor tiles. She was weighing the ethics of snapping a video—just so she could send Bryant something funny—when she saw him.
Beck.
No. She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. That couldn’t be him. Either she was more tired than she’d imagined, or she was losing her mind. Her hands fell to her sides, and she looked again.
There he was, in a ruffled plaid shirt and what appeared to be a light beard forming along his jawline. And he was looking straight at her.
“Sarah?”
And then he grinned.
At that moment, every plan she’d had for their reunion, everything she’d imagined saying, every bit of apprehension slipped away. Ignoring the crowd of people, she ran towards him, racing towards her, and threw her arms around his neck. Their lips collided, and for the first time in two weeks, she was home.
She could stay like this forever—or until they were kicked out—but she should probably say something.
Pulling away, she gazed up into his brown eyes, made even darker with passion for her. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to talk with you.”
She let out a short laugh. “Here?”
“It’s where Maisie said you’d be, and I know how you feel about experiencing things in person.” He arched an eyebrow. “Though I didn’t expect to find a welcome party.”
“I was on my way home. I thought we should talk too.”
Releasing his hold on her, Beck took a step back. “Ladies first.”
Where to begin? There was so much she longed to say. So much he needed to hear. But it really came down to one thing.
“I was scared. Years ago, when we were first together. I was scared by how much you mattered. I was looking for a casual fling, but somehow you got under my skin. So I pushed you away. I threw myself into the job because I thought that was what mattered most.”
“And now?”
“You’re still there.”
She grabbed one of his hands and held it to her heart. “And nothing seems as shiny or bright if you aren’t.”
There was still one more thing he needed to know. “I won’t bail on you again.”
“That’s quite a coincidence.” A slow grin spread across his lips again. “Because I won’t let you go this time.”
He rested his forehead against hers. “That morning, I was angry. At myself. At first, I told myself it was because I’d let myself fall again. But then I realized it was because I made you go away.”
Pulling back slightly, he met her gaze. “I never wanted to hold you back from being everything you are and everything you will be. I didn’t think I could keep up with you.”
“I never thought—“
He pressed a quick kiss to her lips, giving her pause.
“I know. That was on me. And that was then.”
“And now?”
“It still won’t be easy keeping up with you, but you’d better believe I’m going to try.”
His lips curved, and he reached into his back pocket and held out his passport. “I would’ve been here sooner to tell you that, but I had to get one of these.”
She opened the passport, still waiting for its first stamp. It was a blank slate. A new beginning with endless possibility. Just like their future.
There was still more to say. There was even more to work out. But right now all that mattered was that both of them were willing to cross an ocean to be together. That was a good enough place to be for the moment.
“You know
. . . “ He glanced around the airport, nodding as if he’d made some important decision. “I think I finally get why people travel.”
She grinned. “You haven’t even made it out of the airport, and you’re an expert now?”
“I didn’t say I was. I just said I get it now.”
“And what exactly do you get?”
Wrapping his arms around her waist, Beck pulled her close. “For moments like this. You can’t have a big, sappy, romantic airport reconciliation unless you go somewhere.”
“I suppose not. Security is pretty strict about who goes in and out.”
She craned her neck to press a light kiss to his whiskered chin. “Now that you’ve experienced this side, just wait until you step outside the airport.”
“Good point. Since leaving Lincoln, I’ve only seen the Minneapolis airport and this. They’re nice enough but hardly worth writing home about.”
“I don’t know. The big, sappy, romantic airport reconciliation might be postcard-worthy.”
“True, but since I came all the way here . . . maybe you could show me around.”
“I could. But I have this plane ticket home.” She pulled a face, faking concern.
“Is it transferable?”
Catching the hint of concern in his voice, she softened her expression and shrugged.
“It doesn’t matter if it is.”
Grabbing his hand, she turned to leave, but he stayed still, pulling her back. “And maybe after, if the offer stands, I could join you for the last stops of your global launch.”
Her heart fluttered. She wanted nothing more. But first, before she was carried away by the notion, she had to ask.
She shook her head. “What about all the flying? I still don’t get how you’re here.”
“I’m over it.”
When she arched an eyebrow, he chuckled. “Okay, maybe I’m not. But I went back to my old therapist. We talked. A lot. Like, every day for a week. There were a lot of issues to cover.”
A lump lodged in her throat. He’d been so brave. Not just confronting his fears, but admitting he needed help and getting it. How could she help but adore him?
“I came to one major conclusion. There was only one thing I feared more than getting on that plane.”
Go for Love Page 8
