Chapter 46
FORTY-SIX
Austin
“YOUR ESTIMATED ARRIVAL TIME INTO Pensacola International Airport is eight thirty a.m., with an approximate flight duration of two hours and five minutes. We’ll keep the overhead lighting dimmed until eight a.m. for your comfort.
Prepare for weather in the fifties today, with no rain in the forecast for the rest of the week.
Please sit back, relax, and enjoy your flight. ”
My knees jammed into the seat back in front of me, which was occupied by a poorly placed elderly man, sporting a floral Hawaiian shirt and drinking a Bloody Mary before the sun rose.
The vacationer traveled alone, yet the fiery glances he darted my way whenever I adjusted my legs told me he would be a handful, no matter which beach bar he spent his holiday break in.
“Sorry,” I offered.
He said nothing back. Instead, he answered my apology with a cold, northern stiff hand gesture that said it all for him.
Coach was hardly accommodating for people taller than six feet, even in the aisle seat.
My compressed spine, indenting the seat back, proved it.
Unfortunately, snagging an extra-legroom seat in the exit row hadn’t been an option when I booked the flight three months ago.
My plan to fly to Pensacola for Elle’s graduation had changed since the last time we had seen each other.
I only hoped that her reaction to me would too.
When the aircraft reached its cruising altitude and leveled off, it hit me.
Only a few more hours until I was in her territory.
I couldn’t fucking wait.
Two hundred forty-four days had passed since my eyes had feasted on her. Since my mouth had had its first taste of her. Month after agonizing month, I allowed each day to crumble with no bids toward her. No reaching out, no surprise visits or mysterious letters.
The urges to beg her for forgiveness and cut our time apart short were relentless.
I fought daily—downing whiskey almost nightly—to stop myself from catching a taxi ride to the airport and moving my body until it collided with hers.
But I’d vowed to let her finish her graduate program and make plans for her future without my influence.
A promise to her and to myself.
As hard as it was to live without her, I needed her to go on without me. To give herself time to decide if the future she’d planned for herself had room for me.
I was determined to prove to her that it did.
An unsweetened bottle of iced tea stared at me from the tray table—a far cry from the syrupy delight Grandma Justine had effortlessly whipped up when I was young.
Still, it provided a sliver of support that only a grandmother could provide.
I sipped it, knowing she would be proud that I was going after the woman of my dreams.
I slid my carry-on bag out from under my seat and peeked inside to ensure—for the third time—that I hadn’t forgotten anything. The gift I’d brought for Elle was a big part of my plan. I released a breath when I saw it was still there, neatly packed, where I’d left it.
The gift wasn’t lavish by any means, but it brought the occasion to life. The one I hoped would pull her back into my orbit because if it didn’t …
I wasn’t sure what would be left of me.
Elle was smart enough not to let materialistic gifts sway her. She needed the truth and the admiration of a man who loved her for all she was.
That was in the bag too.
Unable to find stillness while being physically uncomfortable, I popped earbuds into my ears and closed my eyes, hoping that Elle would come to me in my dreams.
The only thing that found me was Mr. Grumpy Old Hawaiian Shirt and his pompous slurps of Bloody Mary.
Am I overdressed? I wondered, adjusting my silken tie as a humid draft followed me into the auditorium at Coastal Pensacola College.
The buzzing line of people before and behind me was the only thing containing my excitement, enveloping the energy that made it impossible for me to think clearly. The line crept forward slowly, painfully, as it diffused deeper into the space.
I’d march on forever if it gave me the opportunity to see her again.
The echoes of the growing crowd, the flags of distinction stretching across the back wall, and the line of cap-and-gown-donning professors settling into seats on the stage reminded me of graduation days back on base.
Ironically, I imagined that I felt the same way Elle had when she arrived for Jesse’s boot-camp graduation ceremony.
Will it end the same way for me today as it did for her? I shuddered, revisiting the pain that had overtaken her face twice.
Once when Jesse broke her.
The other time when I had—the first and last time I would ever let her down like that again.
I swatted my intrusive thought away as if it were a bloodthirsty mosquito, replacing it with the pride I felt for Elle and her accomplishments with every step closer to the main event.
To her. Until starting my naval career as a recruiter, I’d never set foot on a college campus.
Higher education had never been in the cards for me.
Nothing made me happier for Elle than knowing a good education was a part of her deck.
I gripped the knitted handles of the bag containing Elle’s gift, pulling it into my chest when a voice greeted me.
“Last name of your graduate, sir?” chirped the young man ushering families to their designated seating areas.
His unkempt blond hair proved he’d overslept while the hickey purpling his neck revealed all I needed to know about college boys.
They were animals.
“Madelyn. Elle Madelyn,” I replied, praying the rascal directing me didn’t know my girl.
“Let’s see here …” He dragged his pen over the list, fastened to the front of his clipboard, and paused on the name that would forever choke me. “She’ll be seated in the graduate studies section, first two rows back from the stage, sir.”
I glanced down at his list and noticed several names next to hers in red ink, under the column titled Ticketed Guests. Every name, apart from mine, sat beside a checked box.
“Can you tell me who else purchased guest tickets in her group?” I asked.
The way his smile lifted on one side told me he’d been asked the question before, probably for reasons much different than mine.
“Ah, yes. Don’t need good old family politics dampening the joyous occasion,” he hypothesized.
I let his comment slide, hoping he would spill the beans before the people waiting to be seated behind me got antsy.
“Let’s see … looks like Kimber Madelyn, Tony Madelyn, Ruth Porter, Austin Carterson, and Preston Thompson reserved guest tickets.
You’re the last to check in, which means the rest of the group should be seated somewhere over …
there.” He motioned to the audience section, left of the stage, this time faster and less patient than the first.
Wait. The dress shoes I’d worked so hard to shine earlier reflected my troubled expression.
Who the fuck was Preston Thompson, and why hadn’t I thought this seating situation all the way through?
Would Elle’s parents or Ruthie recognize me?
I expected to recognize Ruthie because Elle had shown me several photos of them together on her phone when we were snowed in.
Did Elle even have a picture of me to share with her best friend or her family when she inevitably turned to them, heartbroken over the lie I’d told?
We hadn’t taken any when we were together.
You’re about to find out …
Determined, I unstuck my shoes from the floor and walked through my trepidation.
The day was about Elle after all.
Moments later, I approached her cheering section, knowing I was in the right place when a familiar profile stole my attention.
Elle’s mother was instantly recognizable.
One arm draped over Ruthie’s shoulders like she was her second-born child.
The other dripped pure kindness as it waved to another family a few seats away.
Gold-tinted eyes, blonde hair a few shades darker but still in the same color family, and a smile identical to the one I loved bringing to life on Elle lit up her face. If Mrs. Madelyn was an aged reflection of her daughter, I imagined that her husband was a very happy man.
And he looked it.
He beamed proudly beside her with a clunky, outdated camera hanging from his neck. Mr. Madelyn fiddled with the controls, probably ensuring it was ready to capture his daughter as she walked across the stage.
“Ladies, please. I need to grab a test shot. Could you both stay still for two seconds? That’s all I ask!” He laughed, shaking his head. Affection laced his request, which succeeded in holding the duo still long enough for him to snap the photo.
Never taking my eyes off of them, I found a seat directly behind Elle’s family.
Close enough to feel like I was a part of them, positioned strategically enough to remain anonymous if needed.
Aside from the side-eye glance Ruthie sent me, they didn’t seem to recognize me.
I smiled at each of them from behind. They were the gateways into Elle’s life. I hoped to get to know them one day.
To be accepted by them.
Maybe even to be loved by them.
And then I saw him, the boy from the guest list, whom I assumed to be Preston. His permanent, computer-generated-looking smirk and overly lip-balmed lips overflowed with mischief.
I’d worked with many young men in my career, allowing me the opportunity to develop a strong bullshit-o-meter. The damn thing rang off the hook as it silenced every sound around me.
Potential Jesse 2.0 was trouble.
My chest vibrated in its attempt to process who the hell he was. A new boyfriend? A cousin? A lab partner?