Chapter 27 #2
We’ve talked around the subject the past few days. Hinted that we’ll figure something out. That we obviously want to live in the same city. But it feels ridiculous to talk about concrete plans when everything is still so new.
At the same time, it feels even more ridiculous to imagine that a month from now, when my contract is up at Atlanta General, I might feel differently about Theo. So why not talk about it now?
Soon, the steady hum of the car lulls me to sleep with those thoughts circling my brain.
Some time later, Theo wakes me up, a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Hey,” he says softly. “We’re here.”
I blink awake and sit up, stretching as I look around the parking garage, surprised that I managed to sleep the whole way without waking up at all.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Theo says with a teasing grin. “Do you know you talk in your sleep?”
“Oh gosh,” I say through a yawn. “What did I say? Please tell me I didn’t embarrass myself.”
“Something about sponge counts?”
I huff out a laugh. “I must be excited to go back to work.”
“You mumbled a couple of other sentences too. One about a sterile field and then something else about staying in Atlanta.”
My gaze jumps to his. “I did not.”
“You totally did. Which, I’m just saying. I think your subconscious is pretty smart.”
“Yeah, I bet you do,” I say.
Outside the car, an attendant is waiting with a clipboard, but Theo doesn’t seem like he’s in a hurry.
We’re in the same private lot where we picked up the car—nothing like the long line of rental car returns I’m used to—and the smiling attendant seems to content to wait however long they need for us to get out of the car.
“Becca, I’m not going to pressure you,” Theo says.
“I know you have your own priorities with work and your loans and going back to school. Those are important to me because they’re important to you.
I mean, obviously I want you to stay. But I’m also committed to making this work no matter what happens.
If we have to endure long distance for a while, that’s not a deal breaker for me. ”
I unbuckle my seatbelt, then lean over the center console and kiss him. “Thank you,” I say. “That means a lot.”
Fortunately, our travel day is relatively easy.
Theo very sneakily upgraded my ticket to first class, so we’re sitting together, and our flight leaves on time with clear weather the entire way.
By the time we get back to Atlanta just before noon, I almost wish we’d had a delay somewhere just because now we have to say goodbye.
“It’s this one,” I say, pointing to Indigo’s building.
Carter picked us up at the airport, and he pulls into the nearest open parking spot.
“I’ll get out here too,” Theo says. “I can walk home.”
“You sure?” Carter asks, and Theo nods. “It’s only a couple blocks.”
Sarah turns from where she’s sitting in the front seat. “It’s good to see you again,” she says to me. “Let’s have lunch next week, if you’re up for it.”
I nod. “I would love that.”
She smiles. “I’ll get your number from Theo.”
Theo wheels my suitcase inside, and we ride the elevator up to Indigo’s condo. “This is a nice place,” he says when we stop outside her door. It’s dark wood, marked with fancy bronze numbers.
“Yeah. She makes good money. You should see the inside—actually, you want to come in? It’s enormous. Three bedrooms. Three bathrooms. An amazing kitchen. And great views of the city, though not as great as your place.”
“I would love to,” he says, “but Nico is already waiting for me.”
“Physical therapy?”
He tucks his left hand into a fist before loosening it again. “Yeah. It’s pretty much do or die at this point. Whatever it takes to be ready.”
My mind flits back to our conversation last night, to the way Theo retreated. He’s been fine today. A little more open. But we also haven’t spent a lot of time talking about his hand or his hockey team, so that’s probably not a significant observation.
I step closer and lean into him, letting my hands slide up to his shoulders. “I get it. But I’m going to hate not having you around all the time.”
He loops his arms around my waist, hands clasped at the small of my back, and leans down to press a quick kiss to my lips.
“Yeah, we’ve been spoiled.” Something in his expression shifts, like he’s going to say something else, so I wait, anticipation building as his mind wrestles his words into whatever he wants them to be.
Finally, he says, “So … I know we didn’t talk about labels.
And it’s early, really. But are we—or are you—”
“Am I going to tell people you’re my boyfriend? I absolutely am.”
Theo grins. “Good to know,” he says, then he kisses me again, this time with a little more intention, a little more heat. I nip at his bottom lip, deepening the kiss as my fingers lift to his nape, tangling in his hair.
He lets out a low groan. “You’re making it very difficult to say goodbye.”
“You’re the one who has somewhere to be,” I say. “If it were up to me, we’d spend the rest of our Sunday doing exactly this.”
His eyes flash with heat, with hunger, and my stomach tightens, nervous anticipation curling through my body.
By some unspoken agreement, one likely influenced by the presence of our mothers and the squeakiness of our mattresses, Theo and I didn’t do more than kiss the entire time we were in Florida.
But we aren’t in Florida anymore, and I can’t help but wonder what the physical part of our relationship will look like now.