Chapter 15
TATE
If I’d had a gun, I would’ve shot that damn alarm. We hadn’t planned on sleeping, but I’d set the alarm just as a precaution. Good thing, too, as Blair and I had dozed off in each other’s arms sometime in the middle of the night.
“Oh my God.” Her hair was a beautiful mess as she blinked. “We fell asleep.”
“Yeah…” I said somberly.
She reached out to touch my face as we stared at each other.
I exhaled. “I thought I could do this, but now that this day is here…”
There were those words again, at the tip of my tongue, ready to beg her to run away with me. I tried to talk to myself.
You can’t be selfish.
She needs to live her life.
You have work to do on yourself that you can’t involve her in.
A relationship was never part of the deal.
Let her go.
Let her go.
I knew I’d regret not writing her a letter like she had me. There was just no time left. I’d spent every waking moment with her until sleep took us.
“I’ve got to get downstairs,” she said. “My ride is scheduled to come in ten minutes.”
Her flight was two hours earlier than mine, and we’d decided to part ways here to spare ourselves the stress of a dramatic airport goodbye.
My heart raced, even as it felt like it was breaking.
Blair rushed around the room to gather her things without making eye contact. When she finally looked at me, I saw tears in her eyes.
Fuck. She didn’t want me to see that she was crying.
I felt my own eyes water. It surprised me how little control I had.
She shook her head and looked down. “I don’t want you to come downstairs with me, Tate. It’s just too hard. Let’s end it here.”
No.
This can’t be it.
I had to act fast. Reaching out my hand, I said, “Give me your phone.”
She handed it to me, and I entered my number.
“I know we said this would be the end. But if you ever need me, for anything, even just to talk, call me. Please. Okay? Anytime. You don’t need to give me your number, and honestly, I wouldn’t trust myself with it.
But I feel better knowing you have mine, that the ball is in your court.
Even if years go by, I don’t care where I am or what I’m doing, I’ll always be here for you. ”
“Okay.” She nodded. “That means a lot. And I will take you up on that.” She let out a breath. “I do feel better having your number. So, thank you.”
I tugged at my hair. “Got everything?”
“Everything but you…” She sighed.
Letting out a long, shaky breath, I nodded. “I feel that, baby. I feel that so hard.”
When she reached up and kissed me one last time, I realized just how much our emotions impact our bodies.
Normally I would’ve hardened instantly as her body pressed against mine, with the feel of her lips and her taste.
But now my entire body felt numb. Dead inside.
Sadness had overtaken me, paralyzed me. Fuck, my eyes were watering again.
I hoped by some miracle she wouldn’t notice.
The moment she pulled back, though, she swiped a finger under my eye, catching a tear. “You really do care about me.”
I took her hand in mine. “Probably more than you’ll ever realize.” I pulled her in for one last painful moment, feeling my heart break more with each passing second. Hugging her tighter than I’d ever hugged anyone, I felt her tears on my face. Or were they mine?
She forced herself back and sucked in a breath. “I’m gonna rip the Band-Aid off now.”
Sniffling, I nodded as she turned away from me.
And that was it.
I watched as she walked down the hall. It took every ounce of my energy to keep from chasing after her. I had to tighten every muscle in my body to keep myself in place.
Then she was out of sight.
Gone.
In a daze, I closed the door and sat on the edge of my bed with my head in my hands, trying to talk myself off the virtual ledge.
You did the right thing for her.
While I wouldn’t have been right for her, I couldn’t see how Blair would’ve been bad for me in any way, shape, or form.
The only thing I supposed was that having a soon-to-be twenty-year-old girlfriend might’ve given my son even more reason to despise me.
But I would’ve risked that if I didn’t truly believe being with me was harmful to Blair in the long term.
Doing the right thing didn’t make this any easier, though, and it didn’t fill the emptiness inside me.
This feeling was completely foreign. It was the first time in my thirty-six years that I’d been heartbroken. I guess it’s never too late.
I looked over at the bedside table, where I’d placed the letter Blair had written me. It taunted me. I’d thought I would wait to read it until I got home, but I missed her already and wanted to hear her voice again, even if that was just through words on a piece of paper.
Screw it.
I reached for the envelope and stared for a few seconds before opening it.
Her cursive handwriting was just as beautiful as she was.
Dear Tate,
As I write this, you’re sleeping right next to me. You look so peaceful, and I’m happy to have contributed to that.
I know you’re fighting a lot of demons, but I hope our time together helped quiet them for a bit.
I can’t begin to understand the pain you’ve been through.
You’ve lived a life, and I’ve yet to really begin mine.
But this experience will always be a highlight for me.
You’ve taught me a lot in our brief time together.
Among the things I’ve learned:
It’s never too late to make things right. Your determination to reconnect with your son speaks volumes about the type of person you are.
As much as you might disagree, I’ve also learned that age is just a number.
I’d always heard that saying but never realized how true it was until our connection.
Maybe you still doubt that, but for me, there wasn’t one moment I didn’t feel we were on the same level.
Maybe that speaks to your immaturity? LOL (Kidding.)
More than anything, you made me feel more beautiful than anyone ever has.
I came on this trip so heartbroken and feeling as though I wasn’t good enough because I’d been thrown away by the only “love” I’d ever known.
But the way you looked at me, the way your body reacted to me, the way you got lost in me, the way you treated me…
You made me feel special. And I will carry that confidence throughout my life.
I’m so glad Daniel broke up with me, because it allowed me to meet you. I wouldn’t change anything.
Lastly, we’ve only known one another for a matter of days, but I love you, Tate. I don’t think you need to have spent a lifetime with someone to say that. Love isn’t measured by time. It’s a feeling that you know to be true.
It’s okay if you don’t love me back in the same way.
I just want you to know that I love you, and I always will.
It wouldn’t surprise me one bit if someday when I’m old and gray and ready to take my last breath, your face is the one that flashes before my eyes.
Though you’ll be long gone by then. (I hope that made you laugh. If we don’t laugh, we’ll cry.)
Thank you for the best not-even-week of my life.
Love always,
Blair
Her words left me unable to move. That was so much more than I’d expected.
There was no greater ache than words left unsaid, and while she’d spoken her truth, mine now burned a hole in my heart, potentially forever.
How had I ever thought it was a good idea to leave myself so powerless? With no way to contact her.
I didn’t trust myself. That’s why.
I opened my camera roll to look at the photos I’d taken of her in the sun.
The moment I saw her again, I began to cry.
I realized, perhaps for the first time, that I loved her, too.
That feeling I’d told myself I’d never felt for a woman before?
That was love. That’s why it had felt so new and indescribable.
It transcended explanation and certainly transcended age and logic.
At thirty-six years old, I had never been in love until Blair.
I resolved to channel that love into something positive. To be grateful for the experience and allow it to make me a better person, too.
I’d start by working on my relationship with Taylor. But that couldn’t happen until I worked on myself. Maybe I’d finally go to therapy and get some real help for my PTSD. Until I believed in myself, I wouldn’t be capable of much.
If I could’ve written down my thoughts, I would’ve told Blair I hadn’t felt capable of any of those things until I met her. Were it not for the renewed energy she’d given me, the love she’d showed me, I might never have been ready to move forward.
That should’ve gone in a letter to her. Maybe I’d still write it someday, even if just to get the emotions out on paper. But for today, I’d mourn the end of a beautiful but short chapter in my life.
I had about an hour before I had to head to the airport myself, and I knew I’d be a ball of fucking mush until then.
I couldn’t stop thinking about her, how she hadn’t even had breakfast before she left.
I hoped she found something good at the airport.
I hoped her stomach wasn’t as upset as mine and she could actually eat it. I hoped she wasn’t still crying.
I hoped she had a fucking amazing life.