Chapter 18 #3
And yet, you have to walk away, I remind myself.
That was the agreement in Vegas. One week.
And there’s no indication that she wants more than that.
In fact, there’s every indication that she doesn’t.
It would be selfish and wrong to try to get her to come with me when I know it’s not what’s best for her, when I know I can’t offer her the stable life she wants.
If you really care about her, do what’s best for her.
I glance at the clock as the phone call ends, wondering how much longer until she’s home.
Hopefully not more than an hour, though she seems like she’s been coming home earlier this week than the first two weeks I was here.
As if she’s trying to soak up as much time with me, like I am with her before I leave.
So don’t leave.
Wait, what? That thought is . . . where did that even come from?
Staying would be asinine. There’s nothing for me here except Sierra.
And there it is, that ache in my chest I’ve been feeling every time I look at her.
The feeling that I don’t want to lose her, even though I know that she’s not looking for more than a fling with me.
Anyway, I can’t stay. I have multiple contracts already signed—with a company releasing a new line of snowboards, with three different ski resorts around the world, with a cruise company adding a new itinerary in Alaska, and with a company releasing a new photography drone.
I have a lot of flexibility in when and how I fulfill those contracts, but the reality is I have a lot of travel to fit in between snowboarding competitions over the next year just to shoot all these ads.
And I want to do this work. Everything I’ve worked for over the past few years building this account is finally starting to pay off. Walking away now would be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done—exactly the kind of passion-driven decision my dad would expect me to make.
Besides, Sierra’s never said anything that makes me believe she wishes I’d stay.
I’ve been with too many women over the past few years, and I’ve never wanted more than a night or two with any of them. Until Sierra.
I seem to only be capable of falling for the ones who don’t want me to stick around.
I open my laptop and busy myself with editing more photos.
Currently I’m working on photos I took in Costa Rica two summers ago when I spent a month there surfing.
I’m deep into the filters, playing with hue and saturation and white balance for who knows how long when I hear Sierra at the door.
Winston bolts from where he’s been laying at my feet, running over to the door and putting his front paws up on the frame.
His tail wags so fast in his excitement to see Sierra. I know exactly how he feels.
“What are you working on?” she asks as she walks up behind the chair I’m occupying in the living room.
“Just doing some editing.” I glance up at her, but don’t shut my laptop like I normally would if someone caught me working on a post for my photography business.
“You take really beautiful photos,” she says, her voice a happy sigh as she leans down and kisses my cheek, her lips lingering a little longer than necessary, but not as long as I want them to. “Where’s this?”
“Costa Rica. Surfing trip last summer.”
“You’re just editing them now?”
I breathe in deeply, considering how much to tell her. Fuck it. Why keep hiding it? Especially from someone who will really appreciate what I’ve created? “I have a huge backlog of photos to edit and post.”
“Post?” she asks, coming around to sit on the leather club chair next to mine. She drapes her knees over the arm of her chair, her feet resting on the arm of mine.
“Yeah. I have this pet project that’s turned into a bit of a business.” I explain about my photography account, and how I’ve monetized it based on sponsored posts and ads.
“What type of sponsors and ads?”
“Usually it’s travel related, often for specific destinations.” I explain how most of the places I stay when traveling are comped as long as I post a certain number of pictures of the hotel or the excursions or whatever. I tell her about some of the contracts I have coming up.
“So you’ve monetized the thing you love—photography—and you’ve used it to fund your snowboarding and travel? That’s genius.”
“Thanks. Actually, my snowboarding sponsors pay for most of the travel, training, competition fees, all that.”
“So, what do you do with the money from the photography business?”
“Invest it back into the business, mostly. Use it to travel in the off season. Donate some of it. Save the rest.”
“You just shrugged like it’s no big deal that at twenty-five you’ve got a career as a professional snowboarder and a very successful second career as a photographer,” she says, sounding equal parts annoyed and proud. “Can I see?”
I bring the site up on my laptop and click over to my profile. “I’ve never shown anyone this before.”
She brings her feet under her and sits on her knees, leaning toward me. “Wait, like no one?”
“No one.”
The look on her face is surprise, followed by vulnerability—like she’s peeling back her armor and baring something sacred. I wonder if she’s mirroring my own expression, or if she has secrets to share too?
She glances at my screen, takes in the username, then pulls up the app on her phone.
She curls back into her chair and scrolls through the images, stopping at most of them for a closer look.
“These are spectacular. And your ads are so clever. They don’t even feel like ads, they’re such a natural part of the account. ”
She scrolls some more and I watch the expressions on her face change—the way she zooms in on some, stops and gazes at others, dips her eyebrows as she examines others.
“This is like seeing a whole other side of you,” she says, and looks up at me. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”
“I don’t know why I still keep it a secret,” I tell her.
“It’s gotten big enough that I’m going to have to get help to manage it soon.
Like I’ve got this promotion coming up.” I tell her about the camera company that’s sending me a new lens to try out and one to give away, and about how I need to manage a giveaway and then send out the other lens.
“I’m going to have to schedule it after the X Games and mail it from wherever in the world I am then. ”
“Why don’t you just leave the lens here and I’ll mail it for you? It’s no trouble to stop by the post office and send it off when you’ve finished the giveaway.”
“Really?” I ask. Even though I always have Lance and Drew with me, I don’t normally have someone in my life I can lean on for anything other than snowboarding.
Don’t get used to it, I remind myself. Just because she’s happy to drop a package off at the post office for me doesn’t mean that I’m the kind of guy she wants to be in a relationship with.
But we’re so compatible, being with her is easy, like it’s meant to be.
Maybe if I wasn’t leaving, we could see where this goes.
I am leaving, though. I’m heading to Aspen in a few days, then I have to be in Austria in February, and Canada in March.
And in between those trips, who knows where we’ll wind up?
That’s what I’ve always loved about my life—the freedom to do anything, go anywhere.
Only now, those trips feel like they’re business, and I just want to be home with Sierra.
“Of course,” she says, snapping me out of my introspection. “And you should think about getting a virtual assistant. Someone who can handle these administrative tasks for you while you focus on the photography and growing that account.”
“I didn’t even know virtual assistants were a thing,” I admit.
She explains how it works, and how I could find someone to fill that role. It’s yet another administrative task I won’t really have time for in the coming weeks, but if I could find someone like she’s describing, it would save me so much time in the long run.
“Hey, I’m starving,” she says. “Want to go out and grab dinner somewhere?”
“Are you asking me out on our first date?” I tease.
“Ha!” She laughs. “I feel like we passed first date status, and then some, in Vegas.”
“Okay, so . . .” I say and mentally count off the nights we’ve spent together, “our fifth date, then.”
“Dating someone who is leaving in three days would be insane. Let’s just call it dinner.” She sets her phone on the coffee table and stands.
“So let’s have a date in Aspen too,” I say, as I reach out and pull her toward me so she’s standing in the space between my knees.
The idea has been percolating in the back of my mind for two days now.
I can’t stay here. If I don’t head to Aspen this weekend, I risk losing my sponsorships, not to mention the prize money that’s at stake if I’m in the top three in either of my events. But she could come with me.
She smiles, then reaches down and taps my nose with her finger.
“You’re cute, but don’t tease me with things we both know aren’t possible.
” She turns away quickly, so I don’t really have time to analyze the look that came over her face when she finished her sentence.
“I’m just going to change, then I’ll be ready to go.
” She slips down the hall and into her bedroom while I sit there trying to figure out why we both know her coming to Aspen isn’t possible.