Chapter 23
Kevin
Tuesday morning
I woke to Lauren’s alarm at six and wanted to hurl the damn thing across the room. She groaned, fumbled for her phone, and killed it.
“Morning,” she said, voice rough with sleep.
“Morning.” I pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head. Her hair smelled like her shampoo, faint and familiar. Five days in Chicago was too long, and five days without her sucked more. It already felt wrong not being able to reach for her.
“What time’s your flight?” she asked.
“Ten. Should probably get moving.”
She made that soft noise, the one that said she wasn’t ready to let go yet. Same here. But I had to shower, finish packing, and get to the airport.
I kissed her again and dragged my ass up.
By the time I was out of the shower and dressed, she was in the kitchen making breakfast in my gray shirt from yesterday and nothing else. I had to look at the counter instead of her.
“You didn’t have to make breakfast,” I said.
“I wanted to.” She slid scrambled eggs onto a plate and passed it over. “You need to eat before you fly.”
I sat at the counter and ate while she leaned against the fridge with her coffee.
We barely talked. Mostly, we stayed quiet and didn’t look at the clock.
Every time she moved past me in that shirt, I kept my hands locked around my mug.
I kept eating because if I stared too long, I was going to touch her, and then I wasn’t leaving.
When I finished, I rinsed my plate and loaded the dishwasher. Then I grabbed my suitcase from the bedroom, my laptop bag, and my keys.
Lauren walked me to the door. Barefoot on the cold floor. She stayed there anyway.
“Five days,” I said.
“Just five days,” she answered.
I kissed her. Meant for it to be quick. Then her mouth stayed on mine, my hand went to her waist, and I had to make myself stop. Lauren pulled back first.
“Go,” she said. “Or you’ll miss your flight.”
“Yeah.” My feet stayed planted.
She laughed and gave me a little shove toward the door. “Go.”
I headed out to the truck in the driveway. Should’ve started it earlier. Hadn’t thought that far ahead. I got in and turned the key.
Nothing.
Tried again.
Still nothing.
I sat there with my hand on the wheel, then tried it a third time.
It finally caught. I let it idle for a minute and looked back at the house. Lauren was still standing in the doorway, bare legs, my shirt, hair a mess from bed, watching me leave like she hadn’t decided to go back inside yet.
I waved. She waved back.
My phone buzzed. Work email.
Ignored it.
I texted Lauren instead: What if five days is too long?
She answered right away: Come back to me.
I read it again.
Come back to me.
Had to look away from the phone for a second after that one.
I put the truck in reverse and backed out. Work emails kept buzzing. Ignored them. I’d handle them when I landed.
All I could think about was Lauren in my shirt, barefoot in the doorway, and how five days already felt too fucking long. When I got back, I was telling her. Done acting like this was temporary.
Five days.
I could wait five days.
Work kept buzzing. I kept ignoring.
Made it three blocks before my phone buzzed in the cupholder.
Jackson.
Drive safe. She’ll be fine.
By the time I hit the highway, I’d read it twice. My thumb still hadn’t moved.
I told myself the reason I couldn’t answer had nothing to do with Jackson. It was the morning, the leaving, Lauren barefoot in the doorway.
Then I put the phone facedown and kept driving.