Page 124 of Cockpit
“Hey, Luke?” I ask and get his attention. “Why don’t you pull up a chair and have dinner with us. I don’t think the three of us have ever eaten a fancy meal together.”
His eyes widen, and his smile turns lopsided. And then it falls. “No, I couldn’t. I’m the server.”
“Servers have to eat, too.” I shrug. “But if you aren’t hungry or anything . . .”
“I’ll get some pizza.”
While we eat, we giggle over stupid things like how the bubbles of Luke’s Sprite tickle his nose. They debate where they want to go if Grayson wins the contest. We talk about upcoming little league games, and Luke and Grayson give me silly ideas for articles I should write for Modern Family. It feels normal, the three of us in a hangar, shut away from the world so people can’t gossip about us being together, and so I can savor each and every moment of this time without any interruption.
Savor my time with Grayson even though I have to be cautious of Luke’s perception.
It’s such a bittersweet feeling. This act we’re putting on . . . but it still feels real. It still gives me a taste of what this family could be like. It still shows me exactly what I screwed up and what I might be missing out on because of it.
Even now . . . with him mad at me and the fear that I won’t win this battle and he won’t accept my apology, I still want him. I want Grayson any way I can get him, even if what he’s willing to give me will never be enough. I’ll just keep wanting more.
After the food is gone, Dylan and Emerson and Betsy take a bow, which leaves me wondering if they knew about our fight . . . our demise . . . and so they helped spearhead this little romantic dinner. They accept our thank-yous before they take Luke home and leave us alone.
We no longer have an excuse not to talk about the elephant in the room.
An awkwardness settles around us.
“That was adorable,” I say.
“It was.” He rocks back on his heels before nodding toward the steps. “There’s a balcony of sorts upstairs if you’d like to get some fresh air.”
“There is?” I ask, but I’m already following him as he climbs the stairs. Blindly and with little hope that we might be able to salvage whatever is left between us.
“Yes. This used to be where Emerson lived. When she ran the skydiving school, before she ended up buying it, they converted the loft for her should she ever need a breather.” He laughs as if her taking a break is ironic.
He opens a door into a small studio apartment. There is a bed in one corner and a kitchenette in the other. We walk through the modestly decorated space to another door. When I step out onto the deck, I’m blown away by the view. Runway lights, trees beyond the strip of asphalt, and hills covered in vines in the distance. There is a soft breeze that blows my hair across my face, but it feels good against the warm night around us.
When I turn to find Grayson, he isn’t staring at the view, but rather, at me. His expression is intense. His eyes are a sea of uncertainty. I want to crawl into his arms. I want to stay right there for as long as we can, so we don’t have to figure out what needs to be faced.
I’m afraid to be the first to speak.
“What are we doing here, Sidney?”
“Looking at the view?” I say to try to add some levity, but he doesn’t even crack a smile.
“I’m serious.” He exhales. “What are we doing here? Are we pretending that we’re something we aren’t? Are we simply accepting that we only have a few weeks left together before you leave and that we’re just going to enjoy the time we have? Or should we call it quits now and save ourselves from the inevitable?”
“Grayson.” His name is barely audible when I speak it, but only because every other part of me is dying inside. “I screwed this up.”
“You did . . .” He shakes his head and takes a step toward me. “But I did too. I screwed up a lot of times and it wasn’t fair for me to ask your forgiveness time and again . . . but you did. And then the first time you screw up, I didn’t give you the same courtesy. But damn it to all hell, Sidney, you’re leaving, and you didn’t tell me?”
My sigh is loud and loaded with the mixture of emotions warring inside me. Fear. Hope. Desperation. Love. Everything I feel and am so damn scared to express. “This wasn’t my intention. To come here. To find you. To fall for you.”
His breath hitches and I know he heard me. “I know you have a life to get back to. Well you know what? So, do I. A life that had no room for you in it, but goddamn it, you’ve weaseled your way in somehow. Now what am I supposed to do? I have more than myself to protect here. I have Luke to think about. I have . . . Christ.” He runs a hand through his hair and paces to the railing before bracing his hands on it and staring at the view beyond. “This will never fucking work.”
The pain in his voice owns me, and I keep hearing his dad’s words in my mind. “If you’re not going to stay, let him push you . . . But if you’re going to stay, I hope like hell you’ll fight for him, because he’s worth every misspoken word and uttered curse and ounce of confusion.”
Is he pushing me, or is he making it easy for me to leave without regret?
Fuck that. There will always be regret. That much I know.
“We could try to make things work. Weekends and little trips back and forth,” I say and then realize how stupid it sounds. How shallow it sounds. That’s no way to have a relationship.
“I can’t make you happy here. This isn’t some big fancy town where trendy nightclubs pop up as quickly as they shut down, and Michael Kors isn’t likely to set up shop any time soon. There isn’t anything here but Luke and me
