Page 70 of When We Had Forever
My ensuing rush of longing catches me off guard. I love having sex with him. Would crawl across a desert for it. But I can’t deny that our first—and only—sexless month wielded a singular magic. One I’ve been trying to recapture for years. Maybethisis the key. It’s certainly a strategy I haven’t considered before.
“Okay,” I say. “Let’s do it. Or rather, not do it. For ten long, horny days. But only because you let me test-drive those new abs in advance.”
His shoulders relax. A smile brightens his face. “You look so happy right now.”
“I am,” I say. “I really, really am.”
“Because of the sex thing?”
“No. Because I’m finally going on an adventure.” I lean up to steal a kiss. “And it’s with you.”
The morning of our flight, we drop Penny off at Kate’s house. For the rest of the drive to Seattle, I wonder if I’ve gravely miscalculated. Michael’s gotten quieter and quieter, and while I tell myself not to ask why, I eventually have to.
“I’m just nervous,” he says. “About flying.”
“Really? It’s that bad?”
“Yeah. I hate airplanes.”
“Huh.” I study him. He looks pale. Sweaty.
I wonder how he could possibly fear flying but routinely guide this car through curves that statistically have awayhigher likelihood of killing us than a measly airplane. “Is there anything I can do? Hold your hand while we take off, maybe? Bribe the captain to announce that it’s your birthday?”
That earns me a lopsided smile. “It’s okay. I’ll be okay.”
It doesn’t seem that way, though. The closer we get, the tighter he winds, and as we make our way through security, I wonder if he’ll implode.
At the gate, he keeps checking his phone without seeming to see it, and I can’t keep my mouth shut any longer. “Is there a reason you hate flying so much? Something in particular?”
He jerks a glance at me, his cheeks ashen. “Um... I’m going to go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”
I stare after him, plagued by the sense that I’ve just touched on something forbidden. Something to do with Lily.
I smooth down my floral-print dress and consciously decide to let it go. Michael has conceded on both the dogandthe vacation. The least I can do is let Lily and Grayson lie. Besides, this is supposed to beourtime.
No tomorrows. No yesterdays, either.
Michael is gone for several minutes. When he comes back, he looks better. Astonishingly so. He’s splashed water on his face, and his hair is wet in front, combed back with his fingers. The color in his cheeks has returned.
He comes close, stopping inches away. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
“Sorry about that. I just needed a minute. What were you saying?”
I gaze up. He’s done such an admirable job of getting himself together that I lose myself to a heady whirlwind, the kind that robs me of breath and makes me wonder if someone has injected pure sunlight into my blood.
A moment later, I realize why.
Michael’s looking at me like heusedto. No shutters, no walls, just a wide-open aquamarine infinity. He stares at me like the rest of the world has faded. Like I’m the only woman he sees.
Someone announces our flight over the loudspeaker. People jostle to line up, but neither of us move.
Lily doesn’t matter, I realize. Grayson doesn’t, either. Nothing does, just us. Just this.
“Nothing important,” I say. “Except that I love you madly.”
Longing kindles in his eyes. He’s probably already regretting the no-sex rule. “I love you, too. You have no idea.”
