When he woke up and discovered that Mal wasn’t there anymore, would that smile decay? Would reality leave him feeling robbed of his happiness? A pang of regret displaced some of the terror in Mal’s heart.
He couldn’t stay, but there had to be something he could do to soften the blow.
Maybe a text?
Mal imagined sending one only for Vincent’s phone to go off, waking him from his sleep before Mal had a chance to leave the room. Likewise, he didn’t want to send one out in the hall—he wanted to be gone before Vincent woke up, because if Vincent came to find him, he wasn’t sure he could resist a plea to come back to bed. After the dream he’d woken up from, he didn’t feel comfortable there. He needed to go home.
So what was he to do?
Mal cast the beam of his flashlight at the bedside table. There was a block of note paper and a hotel branded pen by the telephone, which he helped himself to.
Vincent—
Something came up, and I had to go. I’m sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye. I had a great time last night, and I hope you did, too. If you ever find yourself back in Aurora, let me know. I’ll make sure my pumpkin is available for a drive around town. :)
x Mal
It was the best he could do, given the circumstances. Mal tore the note from the pad and put it on his side of the bed, close to where Vincent was snuggled with the pillow.
Did he really have to go? It was just a hotel—four walls, a bed, and a door. The only frightening thing about it were his own associations. If he could talk himself down from them, then he could enjoy the rest of the morning with a man he genuinely wanted to spend time with.
Maybe, if he did, Vincent would take his heat again…
As thrilling as the thought was, the way Mal’s heart continued to race forbade it from becoming a reality. He let his gaze linger on Vincent a moment longer, then shook his head and left the bedside.
It was only supposed to have been for a night. He’d told himself as much. Now that their night together was over, it was time he focused on what mattered most. In a week’s time, the medication he was on would be at its peak effectiveness, and he’d be ready for the final round of his IVF treatment.
That was what he wanted, wasn’t it? A small, uncomplicated family he could love forever?
So why did the thought leave him hollow?
With nothing left to keep him in the hotel room, Mal headed for the door. He undid the lock and turned the handle carefully, then let himself out. At the other end of the hall were several young women who shrieked with laughter as they tried to fill their bathroom’s garbage can with ice. Mal didn’t approach them. He turned down the hallway and headed for the elevator.
It had been a fun weekend, but his nightmare had been a reminder that fun wasn’t always a great idea. Real life was infinitely more complex than a good time.
But still, as he watched the numbers on the display above the door tick downward, Mal couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if Vincent wasn’t visiting from afar. Could they have made it work?
The elevator doors opened, and he stepped out into the lobby. What point was there in imagining what couldn’t be? What he needed to focus on was what he could achieve—the possible, instead of the impossible.
Mal left the hotel. There was a future out there waiting for him, and Vincent had given him the courage to find it.
12
Vincent
The crisp notes of Vincent’s alarm stirred him from light slumber to full alertness, and he grabbed his phone with his eyes still closed to turn it off. For a moment he lay still and silent, listening to see if the noise had woken Mal, but heard nothing. Confident that he’d turned the alarm off before it could become an issue, Vincent dragged himself across the bed and went to wrap an arm around Mal to find that he wasn’t there anymore. The bed was empty and the sheets were cold.
Vincent opened his eyes and propped himself up on his elbow. He listened more intently, searching for noise beyond the hum of the heater and the distant sound of people talking down the hall. He’d hoped to hear Mal in the bathroom, but the more he listened, the less likely it seemed that Mal was still in the room. There was no shuffle of bare feet on bathroom tile and no hint that the shower or sink was running. When Vincent looked down the short hall leading to the bathroom, he didn’t see a strip of light shine out from beneath the bathroom door.
Mal was gone. Vincent wasn’t going to get to say goodbye.
He plopped back on the bed and stared at the ceiling for a moment, pulling himself out of his crushing disappointment, then turned his head to look at the space where Mal had slept. There, previously unseen, was a sheet of paper. Vincent plucked it from the bedding and held it up. The note was short, and the handwriting was shaky and rushed—or maybe messy by design.
Vincent—
Something came up, and I had to go. I’m sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye. I had a great time last night, and I hope you did, too. If you ever find yourself back in Aurora, let me know. I’ll make sure my pumpkin is available for a drive around town. :)
x Mal
