Page 138 of Booked on You
“I’m going to miss you, too.” The words come out rougher than I intended.
When we pull up to departures, I park in the drop-off zone. A car honks behind me, and I ignore it.
I grab her suitcase from the trunk, and we stand on the sidewalk while people rush past us. She’s chewing on her bottom lip, and her eyes are full of unshed tears.
“Safe travels,” I say.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t be upset. You know where I’ll be.” I pull her into my arms, and she fits perfectly under my chin.
“Will you wait for me?” Her voice is muffled against my chest.
“Yes, and if you don’t come back before the end of the month, I’ll know.” I breathe in the scent of coconut from her shampoo and try to memorize it.
After a few more seconds, we break apart. “Call me anytime you want.”
“I will.”
She grabs her suitcase, then she’s kissing me desperately like she’s trying to say everything she can’t put into words. I kiss her back and taste the salt from her tears and mine. A car honks, and Scarlett grabs her suitcase again. I lean against the truck, watching her walk toward the automatic doors. Every step she takes away from me feels so damn wrong.
She’s almost to the entrance when she stops and turns, blows me a kiss, then moves inside.
Laughter falls from me as I catch her kiss and stuff it in my pocket.
Then, just like that, she’s gone. She disappears through the sliding glass doors, and I stare at the space where she was. A security guard approaches and tells me I need to move my truck. I start the engine and drive home.
Weeks ago, Scarlett didn’t exist in my life, and now, without her here, it feels odd.
My mind wanders, and I can’t stop the intrusive thoughts from taking over.
What if she returns to New York and realizes that’s where she belongs?
What if she sees her apartment, her friends, and her life there, and remembers why she loved it?
What if Charleston isn’t enough?
What if I’m not enough?
I’ve never cared like this, never felt such a deep connection to someone.
The whole way home, my throat burns, and I have to concentrate on breathing.
When I finally pull into the driveway, the house looks different. Wrong, somehow. Inside is worse. The silence is so loud, my ears ring. I walk through the rooms and she’s everywhere. The kitchen where we made breakfast this morning. The couch where we made love.
Willow appears from somewhere and meows at me like she’s asking where Scarlett went. I pick her up, and she purrs against my chest, and I sit on the couch.
My phone buzzes.
Millie
How’d it go?
Ezra
Good, I guess. Was hard to watch her leave.
Millie
