Page 2 of P.S. It’s Always Been You
“It was.”
She’s quiet for a beat, staring at the white curtains billowing softly in the gentle evening breeze. “Hunter . . .?”
There’s a question in my name, or maybe a request. “Yes?”
“This might be crazy, but do you think there’s a way . . .?”
I know what she’s asking. “Is there a way for us to be together when I move to Alaska and you stay in New York?”
Her eyes are wide and vulnerable as she gazes at me. “Yes. What do you think?”
I take a deep breath, considering. Sure, more intrepid men than I have pulled off feats of long-distance romance, though that seems like a recipe for disaster. But it’s Valentine’s Day, and she’s happy in my arms, and I’m pretty damn happy with her. Staying together feels as possible as living off our coconut popsicle stand and riding the waves all day.
“Maybe there is, honey.” The truth is I want that too. I want to keep her as mine, even though it feels damn near impossible.
Her eyes widen in surprise. “You think so?”
I shoot her a crooked grin and let myself imagine it. After all, it’s not impossible. Maybe there is a way for us to work out. “Sure. They have FaceTime in Alaska, and internet, and cell service. Well, when I’m not guiding travelers through the wilderness on super manly survival expeditions.”
“Which is most of the time, so . . . it would be crazy to try to do this,” she says, but her tone says crazy good, and the sound of her hope is intoxicating.
I inhale her hope, letting it feed my heart, hungry for her. “It would be insane. But I should return to New York in a year.”
“So maybe it’s not so crazy.”
The smile she flashes at me is too happy for me to ruin. Besides, I do want to make us work. I like the idea of this too much.
The next morning, we jostle through security at the airport, stuff ourselves into our sardine seats in the back of the plane, and sit on the tarmac for three hours, sweating and wriggling restlessly.
This is reality. Not waves, not pineapples, not surfing or hiking or exploring. And reality means work and jobs and chasing dreams. A few days later, while I’m in my cousin’s apartment packing my bags for Alaska, my phone rings.
The number startles me. The caller is from halfway around the globe. When I answer and he tells me he’s had an unexpected opening on his team and asks if I can get there right away, I don’t hesitate.
The opportunity is out of this world. It’s bigger and better than the job in Alaska, and there’s no end in sight.
It’s everything I’ve wanted.
Even when he tells me that for the first several months, I can’t breathe a word of who I’d be working for—a billionaire businessman who has a thirst for adventure but a desire for privacy until he succeeds in his new quests. But this man, the caller says, needs a strong team.
Sign me up.
There’s only one small flaw in the plan.
I’ll barely have any contact with the outside world. No FaceTime, no cell service. I won’t be able to stay in touch with Presley. There’s no way to make this “staying together” thing work now.
That stings. Bitterly.
It hurts like hell.
For a moment, I consider turning down the job. Because I want the woman too.
But I know deep in my gut, in the marrow of my bones, this is the chance I’ve been looking for. This is what I’m meant to do.
I can’t look back.
I can only move forward.
I shove the hurt aside and leap at the chance.
When the call ends, I change the maybe I gave Presley to a no.
Then I leave, because it was just an illusion that we could make this work.
Her Prologue
Presley
* * *
Seriously?
A phone call?
A freaking breakup phone call?
After that night, that trip, the things he said . . . all I warrant is a few minutes on the phone?
Slumped down on my couch later that evening, I replay his parting words once more. I have to take this chance. Expeditions like this come around once in a lifetime. I know it’s crazy that I can’t say who it’s for or where we’ll be going, but trust me, it’s better than leading wilderness expeditions in Alaska. So much better, and it’s everything I’ve ever wanted. I feel this is what I’m supposed to do, what my dad would have wanted for me. I hate that I have to do it like this, because I’m crazy in love with you. But I can’t make this work, and I need to leave tonight. It’s the only way. I’m sorry.
Now he’s on his way to the airport, jetting a million time zones away to trek . . . somewhere. Maybe the Himalayas. Possibly Africa. He won’t say. He just goes.
