Chapter Twenty-Two #2
Adrienne’s chest unclenched. It felt like she’d finally broken the surface from deep water.
Her lungs flooded with sweet, warm, delicious relief.
She paused, just long enough to smooth back the strands of hair that had matted against her sweating neck, then picked up speed again.
Abandoning all sense of airport etiquette, Adrienne pushed past the line of people waiting, ignoring their annoyed grunts and exasperated gasps, until she got to the desk.
“Make that two tickets to Alaska,” Adrienne panted, slamming her palms flat on the counter. She had no idea if Valerie was even traveling to Alaska. But it didn’t matter. This was her grand romantic gesture.
“Adrienne,” Valerie gasped, looking at her as if she were Gandhi resurrected. “What on earth are you doing here?”
Adrienne drew in a breath to calm her hammering heart and said, “Well, if I’m going to live there, I suppose I should actually visit the town first, shouldn’t I?
” She held out her palm for a ticket but the lady at the counter, whose eyebrows were plucked thinner than a pencil line, pulled her lips tight.
“This is the check-in, Ma’am. If you want to buy a flight ticket, you’ll have to go to the ticketing office. ”
Adrienne blinked. What?
The truth was, she had absolutely no idea how to actually buy a flight on the spot.
If she wasn’t taking her parents’ Gulfstream G650 across the world, she usually paid Roderick, her personal travel agent, to book all her trips.
If she suddenly felt like arriving in Paris the next morning, Roderick would sell his own kidney to secure her first-class seat.
Dealing with airport logistics like a regular person wasn’t something she’d ever had to worry about.
“Okay,” Adrienne said, dropping her hand to the counter. Under normal circumstances she would’ve been mortified, but the adrenaline still pumping through her veins drowned out the shame. “I guess—”
Valerie grabbed Adrienne by the elbow and pulled her out of the check-in line toward a row of empty plastic seats. “What do you mean you’re going to live in Sitka?” she asked, turning toward Adrienne. Her sea-glass green eyes looked stormier than they ever had before.
Wasn’t it obvious? Adrienne was declaring her love for Valerie.
“I’m prepared to move to Sitka for you,” Adrienne said. Had she really just said that? Would Adrienne survive the average eighty-five inches of rain a year, winter temperatures that hovered at freezing, and December daylight that barely lasted seven hours?
“I’m not asking you to do that,” Valerie said.
“You’ll hate Sitka. Within twenty minutes of being there, you’ll complain about the air being too humid.
There are no five-star hotels or fancy rooftop restaurants, or vitamin bars.
We have local pubs where the décor is taxidermy and flannel, and our beaches are covered in black volcanic sand.
The water is freezing. It’s an island town of eight thousand people. You’d lose your mind.”
This was all true. Valerie was right; Adrienne wouldn’t survive there, at least not year-round. But that wasn’t the point of this. “I’m trying to tell you that I have feelings for you,” Adrienne huffed. “I’ll go wherever you go, even if it means getting on a plane to Alaska. I love you.”
“You do?” Valerie asked, looking utterly shell-shocked. But was it really that shocking? Adrienne had literally lain naked on hard ground, hair in dirt, with Valerie sitting on her face. If that wasn’t love, then what was?
“Yes, I do, you fool,” Adrienne said, exasperated but so fricken relieved she was getting this elephant off her chest. “I was going to tell you last night, after the party, when we could finally be alone, but you left. I looked everywhere for you.”
“I love you too,” Valerie cut in. She lifted a hand toward Adrienne’s face like she was going to caress her cheek, and although Adrienne craved her touch like a double cheeseburger, she wasn’t going to let Valerie off the hook that easily.
She stepped back right before Valerie’s hand could land. “Then why did you run away?”
Valerie dropped her arm to her side. “I...” She shook her head, sank down onto the edge of the plastic airport chair, and exhaled.
“When Vivian called out Isla and Safiya’s names yesterday, it felt like my world was crumbling down.
Losing Outlast Her was different for me than it was for you.
You don’t care about the money. I care about it a lot.
I needed that money not just for me, but for my parents.
I need to look after them, and although they would never ask me to, I want to help them.
I want to live close to them.” She let out a ragged sigh.
“We live such different lives, Adrienne. I’m happy with a quiet life on the water, with a good boat and enough to pay the bills.
Your family owns yachts and private planes, and you holiday with celebrities.
We aren’t compatible. I guess it was easier to leave without saying goodbye properly because if I waited, I’d convince myself that I didn’t have to say goodbye, that we could actually make this work. ”
Adrienne had expected as much, which was why she wasn’t surprised.
But that didn’t mean she accepted it. Every time she looked at Valerie and stared into those sea-glass green eyes, experienced her fiery touch, and listened to her singsong laugh, she felt a stubborn ache flare in her chest. Valerie saw her in a way no one else did. She could never let that go.
“The only reason I don’t care about winning Outlast Her is because I’d already won. I won you,” Adrienne said. She realized it as the words left her mouth. The title of Ultimate Outlast Her was nothing in comparison to what she felt for Valerie. Nothing. “I care about you. I love you.”
“Adrienne...”
But before Valerie could finish, Adrienne grabbed the lapels of Valerie’s denim jacket and pulled her up into a kiss so fierce that Valerie let out a soft gasp against Adrienne’s lips.
Then her arms wound tightly around Adrienne’s waist, and she pulled her flush, and Adrienne could almost feel every ounce of doubt Valerie carried seep off her body and onto the floor.
“You know this is a cliché, right?” Valerie muttered a minute or so later against Adrienne’s mouth. Her breath was warm and tasted like coffee and cinnamon buns. “The whole confessing-your-love-at-an-airport thing.”
“Tamera approved it,” Adrienne whispered back, her fingers tangled in the dark strands at the nape of Valerie’s neck.
“Tamera?” Valerie asked, frowning.
“Never mind,” Adrienne said, laughing. Then she pulled Valerie back in and kissed her like no one was watching.