“I’ll park and go in with you?” I suggested.
“I would prefer it if you didn’t,” she said. “That would only make things harder at this point.”
I nodded. Prolonging this goodbye wasn’t going to help either of us. After I pulled up to the airport drop-off area and parked, I reached into my glove compartment and took out a rectangular box. I handed it to her. “Keep this in your travel bag. Be very careful with it, but don’t open it until you get to your apartment in France.”
Her eyes watered. “Okay.”
Forcing myself out, I walked around to her side and opened the passenger door before heading to the back of the car to lift her bags out of the trunk.
As we faced each other on the curb, I wiped the tear forming in her eye.
“Promise me something, Moody,” she said.
“Anything.”
“Promise you won’t beat yourself up for what we did today, after it all sinks in later. Because it will.”
I wrapped my hands around her face and looked into her eyes. “I will never regret what we did today. You hear me? Never.” I held her close and felt her heart thundering against my chest. “Jesus, your heart.”
“Better than the alternative.” She sniffled. “I feel like if it stops beating it would break.”
I made myself step back. “You’ll feel better once you’re there.”
“I really hope so.” She looked down at the time. “I have to go.” She shook her head as she stared down at her shoes. “Not saying goodbye. Too painful. Just gonna walk away.”
“I understand, beautiful. No goodbye.” Tears welled in my eyes.
Wren laughed through her tears. “Thanks again for painting my toenails.”
I forced a smile, fighting like hell not to cry.
She moved out of my reach, but I couldn’t let her go without one last kiss. I stopped her, took her mouth in mine, and breathed her in one last time, hoping to burn everything about her into memory. This wonderful thing we’d experienced over the past eight months had just come to an end.
This time, when she broke away from me, I let her go. As she moved toward the airport sliding doors, my heart was in a chokehold.
The doors opened for her, and I watched her walk away until she was out of sight.
Two-and-a-half years later
Wren
Life in Versailles had been everything I’d hoped for and more. Rich in history and known for the 17th-century palace of Versailles, built by Louis the XIV, Versailles was today a touristy residential area not far from Paris. My apartment was less than a mile from the school where I taught music to middle-school students. Middle school here was known as le collége. Students of this age were great to teach, always so curious, and not yet old enough that they weren’t easily impressed.
Over the past two-and-a-half years, I’d made many new friends, casually dated some handsome French men, and eaten the most amazing food. I’d connected with my students and been invited into their homes many times for fabulous dinners—always with amazing bread. But probably the best thing that happened during my time overseas was the bond I’d developed with my brother. Rafe and I had video-chatted once a week on Sunday evenings. He was sixteen now, thriving in school, and he had a girlfriend. From what he’d told me, his relationship with Dax was still a work in progress, but it was leaps and bounds better than it had been when I’d first met them. And Shannon was also still a big part of their lives.
So why, after more than two years, wasn’t I back in the States as planned? I guess you could say it was fear of reality. My dad really wanted me to come home, but he hadn’t pressured me. And other than him and Rafe, there wasn’t anything back in Boston waiting for me. Dad had visited me here recently, which took the edge off of missing him and added to the feeling of not being in such a rush to go back. While I knew I had to return to the States at some point, I hadn’t been as eager as I once imagined I’d be. At the moment, I was buying a little more time here. Maybe I’d stay another year. Maybe I’d change my mind and come home in six months. The point was, I had options and flexibility. The school where I worked had agreed to keep me on indefinitely, though I was now working out of my contract. My apartment lease was also month to month.
Honestly, though, above everything, there was one major reason I hadn’t rushed to go home. And that was Dax.
I hated to admit that I was still hung up on him after all this time. I wished I were a stronger person, but I wasn’t. About six months ago, Rafe had told me Dax’s relationship with a woman named Morgan seemed to be getting serious. She’d been spending the night at their house a lot on weekends, he said. My response to such news, or anything Rafe ever had to say about Dax, was always nonchalant, so as not to tip him off in any way.