Isaac didn’t have any words to make it better. He kissed her instead. He kissed her desperately and clung to her, wanting her to know for certain that he loved her too. Truly, though, he couldn’t see how this would work out. Not with her in San Francisco and him in Florida, or any other undisclosed location in the world.
The pilot approached from the hangar, and Isaac drew back.
“Forgive me, sir,” the pilot said.
“You’re fine,” Isaac reassured him, though none of this was fine.
Cosette kissed him one more time, then stepped back. “I love you,” she said.
“I love you,” he repeated fiercely, hoping she could read it all over his face. He’d never known love like this, and it was worth fighting for, worth waiting for. If only there was some end in sight.
She lifted a hand, but then her face crumpled and she turned and ran for the taxi.
Isaac waited until she was inside before hefting his bag and walking on the plane. He felt like each of his shoes was a concrete block that weighed dozens of pounds. He’d fought terrorists and people who wanted to kill him all over the world, but nothing was as heavy and awful as this. Leaving her was the hardest thing he’d ever done.