“Thank you,” I say quietly.
He reaches for my hand, and takes it in his. His skin is warm, and sends a tingle through me. It’s been so long since we’ve touched. Even after all he’s done, I still love him, and I still want him. He’s still beautiful and still gives me butterflies. I hate myself for that, but I’m also thankful for it because I want this to work between us. I don’t want our perfect family to fall apart over one stupid ill-advised affair.
“I can’t believe I’m letting you do this,” he says. “It hasn’t hit me yet, but I know it will.”
“You understand why I need to do this?”
He nods but can’t quite look at me. “I do,” he says, but I can see how hard this is for him. He’s trying so hard.
I inch closer and wrap my arms around his torso. He slowly reciprocates. It feels right to be in his arms after all this time. “It’s only for one week,” I remind him.
“Promise me that it will be over in a week,” he says. “You need to promise me or I won’t be able to let you go.”
I look up at him. I so badly want this to work. “I promise.”
“You’ll end things with him after the trip?” he asks. “No more contact?”
My heart sinks at the thought. I can’t imagine doing this to Eli, but I know he’ll understand. He’s young and gorgeous, and he’ll find someone else. “Yes, no more contact. It’s what we agreed on, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it’s the only reason I’m letting you do this.”
I smile up at him. “Pretty fucked up arrangement we’ve got going on, isn’t it?”
A slow grin creeps up on him. Even though he’s probably so angry at me, I can still make him smile. “Yeah,” he agrees.
He gives me another hug and I melt into him. “I love you, Gabbie.”
My stomach feels so heavy. I can’t say the words he wants to hear — I’m still too hurt. I pull away, and gaze up at his striking eyes; the color of a tropical summer sky. The first time I looked into those eyes, I fell in love instantly. “I can’t… you’ve hurt me too much, John.”
“I know,” he says. “And I know that a million sorrys aren’t enough. I don’t expect you to love me again right now… we’ll need to work toward that when you come back.”
“We will… I promise.”
I pull away, my heart completely wrenched. There’s a huge lump lodged in my throat, and my eyes sting, but I’m determined to hold it together. I cannot lose it in the middle of an airport, surrounded by strangers. “Bye,” I say.
“Bye, Gabbie.”
I turn around, and I don’t look back.
Part Three
Chapter Twenty-Three
THE FLIGHT IS NOT EXACTLY PLEASANT, but thankfully I have a window seat. There’s a crying baby a few rows back, and it seems like I need to get up and pee every five minutes — it’s the nerves, surely. I apologize to my seatmates profusely every time I need to get up. I try to read, but it’s no use — I can’t focus long enough to get into the story. All I can think about is Eli. I play mindless games on my phone, and pop a ZzzQuil and manage to sleep a few hours.
I’m groggy and nauseous when we finally land. It’s a new day in Denmark, and everyone seems cheery. I, on the other hand, want to curl up in a corner and get more sleep. I’ve never been the greatest traveler, and this trip is no exception.
I’m pleasantly surprised by how nice the airport is; dark floors and pleasing lighting. It beats any airport I’ve ever seen. There are loads of stores selling watches and Danish chocolate. I don’t have time to buy any chocolates because I’m following the crowd from my flight. I figure they’ll lead me to where I need to be.
Following customs, I trail the crowds. I study every single face I encounter, looking for Eli. He’s close.
Everyone here is so attractive and stylish. I feel very frumpy in my black leggings, loose Star Wars t-shirt, comfy flats, green jacket, and oversized handbag.
Finally, we make it to baggage claim, and I watch intently for my suitcase. Thankfully, it’s colorful and not easy to miss. I bounce up and down like a kid when I spot it. “That’s mine,” I shout out. “Mine. Mine.” Like anyone cares. A couple turns and gives me a look — yes, crazy American.
I run to the carousel, but I can’t quite get to it. In my haste to reach for my suitcase, I bump into a little old lady — she’s about four feet tall and a hundred years old. She almost topples over, and I grab at her tiny frail arm to keep her steady, a little too hard. She winces and clutches her arm where I’ve grabbed her.
“I’m so, so sorry,” I tell her as I watch my suitcase disappear around the bend of the carousel. She says something in Danish (I assume), not too impressed. I don’t fail to notice the few people around us who have witnessed the commotion. Her daughter (I assume) shoots me a tight smile.No harm done,it says. God, this is so embarrassing.
