“Yes.”
We walk in silence to the door that leads inside the hotel. Otto swipes his card against the reader, pulling the door open and holding it for me.
My “Thanks” is so low that I’m not certain he hears it.
The elevator is right inside, tucked in the far corner across from the main lobby. I jab the Up button with my thumb, water streaking down my calves and dripping on the carpet.
The restlessness is multiplying, expanding, spreading to every crevice of my body. Swimming didn’t subdue it the way I hoped. Maybe it would have if Otto hadn’t been there when I emerged, like my tortured thoughts had summoned him somehow.
Finally, the doorsding, then part.
He waits for me to enter first again. A memory tugs at my mind, snippets of Paris appearing, like his mention of our first meeting opened the vault I’d welded shut. Driving past the Eiffel Tower, exploring the Louvre, dancing in the street. The memories have the same shimmering dreamscape ofLes Murmures de l’Aube, hazy yet lingering. Unmarred by our ending. Maybe because it doesn’t feel like we did end.
“When do you fly home?” I ask, hitting four.
Otto taps six, then answers, “Tuesday.”
The elevator doors glide closed, shutting us in more silence.
It takes twenty-six seconds to reach the fourth floor. I know because I count each one, flipping between the three optionsCassidy laid out. Debating which form of regret will hurt the least.
The doors open, and I glance at Otto. He’s already looking at me, hands in pockets. A proud stance that’s also patient. I’m not. Tuesday is…soon.
I reach out, pressing the button to close the doors without breaking eye contact. I memorized its position during our ascent.
“You sure you want to do that, Boston?”
I don’t have to think about my response. “Yes.”
I’m sure Iwantto do this. I’m just not sure if I should. If I’m prepared for the inevitable heartbreak that’s going to accompany losing him again to include this extra torment. It’s the final line that hasn’t been crossed.
Knowing pain is coming never makes it hurt any less. Losing him will hurt—hurt a lot—no matter what. I can feel the ripple of it already, another crack forming in my heart. Might as well take what pleasure I can, while I can.
My entire being is pulsing with anticipation, the awareness pounding an unrelenting rhythm. Now that I’ve decided, any delay feels excruciating.
I don’t know how long it takes to reach the sixth floor. I’m too distracted to count seconds.
My steps are cautious as I follow him out of the elevator and down the hallway. I’m sure there are other Siege players or staff staying on this floor. And while Otto might not technically be affiliated with the team, as of about four hours ago, I don’t really want to explain to anyone why I’m sneaking into his room, wearing only a towel. They’re still my colleagues.
Thankfully, we don’t encounter anyone. Otto flips on the lights while I set my phone and room key on the round table in one corner of the room. It smells like him in here, even though we’ve only stayed at this hotel for one night.
I face him, letting all the air out of my lungs in a lengthy gust. “I’m glad you came to Boston.”
He grins, walking toward me. “We are in Miami.”
My fist twists the soft cotton of his shirt as soon as it’s in reach. I can feel the heat emanating from him, the solid support of the latent strength in his muscles.
“That’s not what I meant.”
His eyes soften. “I know what you meant. And I am really”—his fingers skim up my arm—“really”—his hand unknots the towel with one deft tug—“glad I did too.”
“I told you that you’d be back next season.”
“You did,” he agrees, toying with the strap of my bathing suit.
We won’t have a chance to talk, starting tomorrow. I don’t want to draw this goodbye out unnecessarily, and I doubt he does either. That was one small mercy in Paris. We didn’t go through cycles or phases of being together and apart. It was a clean break that should have healed.
“I’m glad,” I tell him. “I-I wish some things were different, but I’m really glad you’ll be back next season. I don’t want you to think I don’t—I want you to know that.”
