Chapter 10
TEN
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Saying goodbye is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
I don’t want to let her go. But I know I need to.
Throughout the flight, she’s next to me, but she isn’t really there. We watch a few movies on my tablet, and her head rests on my shoulder, but she isn’t with me.
She’s the one who slid into the seat beside me. She’s the one who snuggled up next to me.
But we haven’t talked. We haven’t decided if we’re telling her brother. If she wants to do this again, or if this is a what happens in Iceland, stays in Iceland type thing.
And I’m not the kind of asshole who demand answers on a crowded plane with no escape hatch. She deserves space.
When the plane lands, she pulls away even more.
“I guess this is it,” Cari says, reaching for her purse.
“Yeah.” My body feels hollow. Like the gaping crater in the center of my chest can ever be repaired.
“See you,” she mutters, before standing and working her way into the aisle.
And then I let her go. Because I have to.
The other passengers deplane before me, but I stay in my seat for as long as I can. I’m numb.
She doesn’t want this. She doesn’t want me.
With everything in me, I believe that what we shared was special. I don’t want to leave it the way we did. I want more. I need more. I need her.
I let her go. I let her walk away. Because I have to. It’s what she needs.
Even if it breaks my heart.
Cement weighs down my shoes as I take the small, rickety stairs down to the ground. She’s a few paces away with Kiana, and her teary smile breaks my heart.
Something inside me snaps. Before I can talk myself out of it, I'm moving.
I race across the tarmac, dodging passengers and weaving around stacks of luggage. My pulse pounds in my ears. The distance between us shrinks. Finally, finally, I reach her, and I grab for her hand.
Cari whirls to face me, her face a storm of emotions.
“What are you doing?” she demands.
“I can’t,” I blurt.
She narrows her eyes. “Can’t what?”
“I want to try,” I blurt. “Try with me.”
“We want different things.”
“I want you. The rest of it, we can figure it out.”
She inhales sharply. “Brody, I—”
“I want to try. I don’t have the answers. I don’t know if it will work out. But if we never even try, I’ll never forgive myself.”
She relents, melting into my arms. “I don’t want that.”
“Go on a date with me.” I press my forehead to hers, breathing in her scent. “We’ll go to dinner and just talk. Get everything out in the open. We can have a conversation about all of it. But we’ll never know if we don’t at least try.”
Cari opens her mouth, then closes it again.
“Dinner. That’s all I’m asking for.”
She sighs. “Brody, we want two different things.”
“No, we think we want different things. But we haven’t actually talked about it and what it means. So that’s what I’m asking for. Let’s try. We’ll have dinner and lay our cards out on the table.”
“Why should we mess with a good thing? It was a fun week. That’s all it has to be.”
“But it could be so much more.”
Still, she hesitates.
“Unless… that’s not what you want?”
Dismayed, she shakes her head. “I just don’t see how it would work.”
“That’s what we have to figure out. We don’t have to make any decisions right away.” I press my forehead to hers, breathing in her scent. “Just think about it. Go on a date with me. Just one.”
She swallows loudly. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“Because… we just…” She sighs. “It won’t work.”
“Why are you so determined to give up on us before we even start?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“Because this ends badly.”
“That's not an answer.”
“Yes, it is.” She pulls back enough to look at me. “We had an amazing week because it was a week. No responsibilities. No reality.”
“We can figure out reality.”
“Can we?” she asks softly. “Or are we going to spend six months trying to force something impossible because neither of us wants to admit this was supposed to end here?”
“Cari—”
“You'll resent me for not moving. I'll resent you for asking. One of us will compromise and pretend we're fine until we're not.”
“Or,” I counter, “none of that happens.”
A sad smile tugs at her mouth.
“You really believe that?”
“I believe we owe ourselves the chance to find out.”
She looks away.
I step closer. “I'm not asking you to quit your job. I'm not asking you to marry me. Hell, I'm not even asking you to be my girlfriend.”
That earns a reluctant laugh.
“Then what are you asking?”
“One date. Back home. In the real world.” I lace my fingers through hers. “If we're a disaster, you can tell me I was wrong.”
“And if we're not?”
My heart pounds.
“Then we'll figure out the next step when we get there.”
For a long moment, neither of us says anything.
The sounds of the airfield continue around us—the chest-rattling rumble of planes taking off, the chatter of the other passengers who are definitely not pretending to listening, the rhythmic thumping of suitcases hitting the tarmac. Life moving forward while mine hangs in the balance.
Cari studies me like she's searching for the catch. For the reason this won't work. For the reason she should walk away.
“What if you're wrong?” she asks quietly.
I smile. “Then you'll get the satisfaction of saying I told you so.”
A reluctant laugh escapes her. “That's a dangerous offer.”
“I'm willing to risk it.”
Her eyes soften.
And just like that, I see it. The moment she stops looking for reasons to leave. The moment she starts considering reasons to stay. Not forever. Not even for next month.
Just one date. One chance. One beginning.
“You're really not going to let this go, are you?”
“Absolutely not.”
Cari shakes her head, but she's smiling now. “Stubborn.”
“Persistent.”
“Annoying.”
“Handsome.”
She laughs again, the sound warm and familiar and already my favorite thing in the world.
“Fine.”
The single word hits me like a body check.
“Fine?” I repeat.
“One date.”
I grin. “One date.”
“Back in the real world.”
“In the real world.”
“No grand declarations.”
I wince. “Can I keep some of the declarations?”
“No.”
“Worth a shot.”
She rolls her eyes, but her fingers slide between mine. The gesture is small. Simple. Somehow it feels bigger than anything that's happened between us all week.
“Okay,” she says softly.
“Okay.”
Neither of us moves. Neither of us seems willing to be the one who ends the moment.
The cool Boston breeze lifts a strand of hair across her cheek. I reach up and tuck it behind her ear, letting my hand linger against her face. Cari leans into the touch.
My chest tightens. Fuck, I'm done for.
I dip my head, giving her every opportunity to pull away. She doesn't.
Instead, she closes the distance herself.
Her lips find mine in a kiss that feels completely different from every other one we've shared. Not desperate. Not reckless. Not fueled by stolen vacation days and an expiration date hanging over our heads.
This one feels like possibility. Like a promise neither of us is ready to make out loud.
I slide my hand to the back of her neck, deepening the kiss as she rises onto her toes. She smiles against my mouth, and I can't help smiling back.
When we finally break apart, we're both a little breathless.
“A date,” she reminds me.
I brush my forehead against hers. “A date.”
“Don't make me regret this.”
“Too late.”
Her eyes narrow. “Brody.”
I laugh and steal one more quick kiss.
The smile she gives me afterward is brighter than the sun overhead.
For the first time since she walked into my life, I don't know exactly what comes next.
But that's okay.
Because for the first time, we're heading toward it together.