Chapter 46
FORTY-SIX
HE GAVE ME A HALL-PASS
I shove my phone at Zach. With a tired yawn, he scans the convo. “Definitely worth his weight in olive oil.”
“We’re destroying Dyers’s life, aren’t we?” I declare happily as we jump into a cab and head out of Barajas and into the suburbs of Madrid.
“I’m not sure we’re doing anything. What was it Callan said? You’re the composer and Callan, Victoria, Shay, and this Conor guy are your orchestra.”
I snuggle into his side. “Do you think we should feel bad about all this?”
He huffs. “No. That ass is not only a bully, he’s a criminal. Evil. Dude deserves whatever they can throw at him and then some because pricks like that never see the inside of a jail cell.”
“Yeah,” I agree on a sad sigh. “You’re right.”
We’re six hours ahead of Florida and the flight was a doozy. Nine hours isn’t the longest, but we only managed to sleep right at the end. I woke up just before we landed and contemplated tossing my water bottle at Zach, who was doing a great impression of a corpse.
It’s also close to midnight on a Friday, which means chunks of the city’s still alive even if we’re half-zombies.
The streets are buzzing with people just living, and it’s so different to anything I’ve experienced in my whole life that I stare out of the back-seat windows in awe.
Especially because it’s pretty warm here in comparison to New York and these guys are wrapped up like it’s blizzard weather.
Zach, who’s traveled out of the States more than I have, tips his head back and falls asleep.
But I don’t.
I can’t.
This was my abuela’s home.
I can feel the spindly roots of our family tree spurting through the soil, the tiny seedlings of my past bearing fruit.
I press my fingertips to the glass and stare as we pass the Ritz and get tangled up in the traffic of a massive roundabout.
Between us and the next part of the street, there’s this huge tree-lined walkway. The brittle bones of the branches sway and creak with the wind, but that lets me see the coffee shops and the kids parks and the beautiful fountains that decorate the space.
Eventually, we pull up outside our accommodations. It’s bitterly cold. There’s no snow in the air, but my breath is a frozen mist as Zach and the driver unpack our cases. That’s when I notice a pizzeria’s open on the corner. Knowing we’re lucky it hasn’t closed yet, I tug on Zach’s arm.
“You deal with the bags and I’ll grab us something to eat?”
Yawning, he nods.
I press a kiss to his lips before scampering away to the pizzeria. The staff behind the counter look even grouchier than Zach when I order enough to feed a hockey player. But fifteen minutes later, I have our food and plenty of bottled drinks to get us through to the morning.
Zach’s waiting on the front stoop with our shit. The perks of traveling with a sleepy muscled behemoth? He snags our backpacks with one hand and my extra-large case with the other and doesn’t even break a sweat, just yawns again when we have to traipse up to the elevator-free fourth floor.
“That’s gonna be fun,” I grumble as I, on the other hand, do break out into a sweat with my massive coat on and the gazillion steps. “At least you’re here to be my porter.”
He shoots me a sleepy smirk. “I can come back at the end of your stay. I offer personalized porter services.”
“You do? I like the sound of that.” I grin as we step into my home for the next six weeks.
It’s super small, definitely cozy. A bed, a desk, a fan and a portable radiator, but at least it has a private bath.
“You’ll be sharing a kitchen?”
“Yup.”
“We’ll get you set up before I go, okay?”
The puppy-dog look is in his eyes even as he mentions the words ‘before I go.’ But it’s not aggressive. Like, he’s not trying to make me feel bad for wanting to be so far away from him. He’s just sad we won’t be together.
I throw my arms around his neck and hold him close. “I’m going to miss you.”
“No, you’re not,” he half-teases, running the tip of his nose along the line of my jaw.
“You’ll have a blast. You’re going to love it, and in twenty years’ time, when I’m retired, you’re going to make us move here.
I can already feel it in my bones from how you were going gaga over everything during the cab ride. ”
I mock-gasp, even though his declaration—because what was that if not a goddamn declaration?!—is pretty spot on. “I thought you were sleeping!”
“I was. But your sighs woke me up. I’m used to hearing them when you’re exploding around my dick, gorgeous. There you were, wasting them on a fountain. Definitely not the type of squirting I’m used to from you.”
I burst out with happy laughter, then I squeal as he twirls me around in the match box that’s my new room.
When he puts me down, his smile fades a touch. “Denny?”
“Yes, babe.”
His gaze drops to my mouth. “I’ve played the field a lot.”
“Ya don’t say,” I joke.
“I know what sex is like with different people. I-I-I know how shitty it is by comparison to being with you and that magical place you call your pussy—”
“Zach!”
“Honestly, the happiest place on earth isn’t in Orlando—”
I shove my hand over his mouth. “Shut. Up.”
The unholy gleam in his eye has me squirming in his hold. Then I yelp when he presses his tongue to my palm.
“I need to get this out because I’m not sure I can be this generous again, baby,” he admits as he presses his forehead to mine. “The idea of you sleeping with someone else makes me want to find Dyers just so I can use him as a punching bag, but if, while you’re over here…”
“We talked about this. I don’t need a hall pass,” I say immediately.
“You might.”
“No, I—”
“You might! This is a whole new experience. This is… Yes, this was your mom’s idea, but that’s because she knows you too well.
You’re going to thrive here. I can already tell.
If you… If…” He grits his teeth. “I want you to be happy. I want you to have fun. And you need freedom to do that, but what have I taught you?”
“To expect three orgasms minimum and to be carried around if I'm drunk?”
“Exactly. Don’t settle for less. Not when you are the best,” he tacks on, messing around even though I know he’s both deadly serious and in literal pain for making this offer.
But that he’s brought this up twice now has me wondering where his head is at.
“At the end of the six weeks, however,” he exclaims, “I’m going to get my ass over here to take you home and I’m gluing you to my side for the next year.”
My smile’s so wide it could light up the room. “That’s some ratio.”
“The forty-six weeks together will more than make up for the six apart.”
“Overkill.”
“Underkill,” he disagrees.
I stare into his eyes and whisper, “Zach, you’re the one who’ll have girls all over you.”
He grabs my ass. “The only girl I want over me and under me and every which way in between. Is. You. They can look but the only person who can touch is YOU.”
Now I’m back to squirming after that growled vow.
And he knows. The jerk.
“Right, pizza, a shower, then sleep." His tone tells me he's making an effort to cheer up. "I’m too tired to even fuck you, gorgeous, and that’s just criminal.”
While he trudges off to the bathroom, I press my fingers to my lips as I watch him go.
He’s right. I am going to have a ball. But he’s also wrong… I’m going to miss him like crazy.
It’s six weeks. Just six weeks. It’ll roll by so fast that in the blink of an eye, it’ll be over. So, I know I need to make the most of it and savor this independent stay because I have to accept that this isn’t temporary for Zach.
I am it for him.
It’s clear in how he treats me. How he wants the best for me. How he loves me. How he praises me. How he supports and celebrates me. How he wants me to be happy even if it's at his expense.
And he is it for me.
I can accept that too.
Fucked-up history and commitment issues aside, he’s shown me the light.
Spending those forty-six weeks glued to his side will be no hardship.
Because this is it.
Us.
Denny and Zach.
Zach and Denny.
And I want it no other way…
So, why haven’t I said the words out loud yet?