chapter twenty-seven #2
“Don’t,” Riley says, hugging me to him while kissing my head. “Not yet. We still have a full day together.”
“You’re right.” I blink back my tears, let go of the handle, and blot my cheeks. “I’m just…. I’m going to miss it. All of it. Mom included.”
He takes my hands in his. “Me too.”
“You’re going to miss my mom?” I ask with a cheeky grin.
“Of course.” He winks. “She was my roommate too.”
Taking another look around, melancholy flutters my heart. “Is it just me, or does it feel like a lifetime ago that we were standing right where we are, arguing over who this cabin belonged to?”
He chuckles. “You were so adorable. Majorly pissed and a little scary, but also adorable.”
“Hey! You were angry too.”
“Not at you, Riles. I was angry at life in general.”
I cup his cheek. “And you’re not anymore?”
“No. How can I be? I met you.”
My body hums with warmth. “And I met you.”
“Best vacation mix-up ever.”
I burst into laughter, drop my hand, and clasp the handle of my suitcase again. “We’re still getting that damn refund though.”
“Already have.”
“Really?”
“Yep. Mine landed in my account this morning.”
Rummaging through my handbag, I collect my cell and open the app for my bank as he holds the door for me to exit. “Will you look at that? Mine’s there too!” I internally clap with glee as I slide my cell back into my bag. “Now I have some spending money for when we hit the Champs-élysées.”
“What’s a Shawns Elysay?”
I giggle at his pronunciation, which, to be honest, is nearly as bad as mine. “It’s where all the high-end and touristy stores are in Paris.”
“Greeeat!” he drawls, less enthusiastic. “So we’re going shopping?”
“Of course. Who goes to Paris and doesn’t go shopping?”
“I figured you’d want to visit museums.”
“Oh, I do. The Louvre is on my list.” I shove my case with my foot and roll it along the corridor.
“And I want to climb the Eiffel Tower, and walk under the Arc de Triomphe, and climb the steps to Montmartre.” Pausing, I turn back to him.
“Oh, oh, and let’s not forget Notre Dame and that bridge you put a padlock on. ”
He smiles like my mother often did on Christmas morning and nods beyond my shoulder, gesturing that I keep walking, which I do, continuing to run through my Paris bucket list.
“I want to eat a big baguette with lots of cheese, and we should try escargot.” I stop and turn to face him again. “On second thought, I don’t think I can eat snails.”
Riley comes to an abrupt halt, his suitcase nearly crashing into my shins. “Riles, stop stopping!”
“Sorry! I’m just excited.”
“Yeah, I can see that.”
“There’s just so much I want to see and do.”
“Then keep walking, or we won’t have enough time to see and do it all.”
I swipe my hand at him. “Once we arrive in the city, we’ll have around ten hours before we have to check in at Charles de Gaulle. That’s plenty of time.”
“And what are we supposed to do with our suitcases? Drag them along with us?”
“No, silly. Of course not. I booked us two storage lockers at Saint-Lazare Station.”
He stares at me.
I stare back. “What?”
“Nothing,” he says, smiling as he shakes his head.
“So, should we eat escargot, or not?”
“Riles—”
“We should, shouldn’t we?”
“Riles—”
“Oh, I don’t know. The thought of it grosses me out.”
“Riles!”
“What?”
“Keep moving!”
“Okay! Okay!”
After disembarking the ship, and roughly two and a half hours later, we’re strolling by the Bouquinistes along the Seine River, passing cafés with delightful chairs and tables facing the streets, many Parisians enjoying their coffee while people-watching.
Soft florals float from open doorways of perfumeries, gold-gilded statues, bridges, and domed roofs glittering in the sunlight.
Pooches strut along cobbled laneways, their owners in tow.
I soak up the culture, beauty, and tradition, basking in the romance and extravagance.
We visit the Moulin Rouge, and Montmartre, where my breath catches in my lungs for the first time that day. The second time is when we enter Notre Dame. The third, on the top level of the Eiffel Tower.
And the last, seconds ago, when Riley’s flight was announced as “boarding.”
Pain constricts my chest, and I breathe him in, memorizing his minty, musky scent and how his arms feel wrapped around me, his hands in my hair, lips pressed, our heartbeats syncopating.
I pull away, eyes locked to his, words spilling from them with the same intensity as if spoken.
“Have a safe flight,” I murmur.
He cocks his head. “Is that all you’re going to say?”
“I-I don’t know what to say, but—” A tear escapes my eye, and I bury my head into his warm chest. “—I know I don’t want to say goodbye.”
“It’s only goodbye for now, sweetheart. Not forever.”
“It’s still goodbye.”
He cradles my head, leans away from me, and rubs the pads of his thumbs under my damp eyes. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Nodding, I stretch to my tiptoes and give him one last kiss.
“Final boarding call for American Airlines Flight AA755 to Philadelphia, boarding Gate Eleven.”
Finding what little strength I have left, I step back. “Go, or you’ll miss your flight.”
“I can think of worse things.”
“Go!” I say, laughing as I slap his chest. “I’ll text you when I land.”
As he walks backward, his eyes don’t leave mine until he bumps into a man in a business suit. “Shit! Sorry, man.”
The guy mutters something in French.
“Watch where you’re going!” I call out, shaking my head.
“You want to kiss me again, don’t you?”
I giggle. “No!”
He frowns and lets go of his suitcase.
Continuing to giggle, I cover my face with my hand and peek through my spread fingers. “Riley!”
The stubborn jerk doesn’t budge.
“Go!” I urge him, pointing to the gate.
He shakes his head.
Peanut butter.
Hiking my bag on my shoulder, I run toward him, his arms encasing me when our bodies collide, lips sealing one final time before he sets me down and then disappears beyond the gate.
I stare at the closed door and draw in a deep breath, my heart plummeting like a meteor slamming into the earth’s surface, loneliness once again a dark, hovering cloud. A sob rips through my chest, but I subdue it. We’ll see each other soon… I hope.
When my plane lands at LaGuardia, I make my way to baggage claim and switch my cell back on, a message alert from Riley chiming almost instantly.
Just landed. Had to sit next to a snorer. It was hell. If I ever snore again, feel free to suffocate me.
I giggle and type my reply, awkwardly dodging other passengers.
Never! I just touched down too. So tired. Couldn’t sleep on the plane either.
Pressing Send, I pocket my cell, then quickly pull it out and type another message.
I miss you.
The pending message bubble bounces on my screen, sending a weird sense of excitement through me as I wait for his response.
I miss you more.
Biting my lip, I stare lovingly at his words and sigh.
Lovingly? Golly gosh, it’s too soon for that, surely?
I grip my cell and take the escalator to the carousel, waiting impatiently as suitcases pass by, none of them mine.
Are you home yet?
Just got in. About to unpack.
I’m waiting for my suitcase. Oh, I see it. Better go
I dash a little closer and wrench it off the conveyor belt, nearly taking out an unfortunate man who didn’t use enough sense to move out of my way.
“Sorry,” I grouch, ridiculously apologizing for his stupidity.
Once I clear customs, I hail a cab and settle into my seat, the Manhattan skyline a comforting yet disappointing sight—no rainbow clouds or rippling ocean. No mountains or trees.
Not once in my life has NYC made me frown… until now.
My cell beeps again, so I quickly retrieve it.
Did you put your shampoo in my bag?
Laughter bursts from my throat.
I did.
What else did you sneak in? Jesus! I told customs I packed my own bags. Lucky I wasn’t detained.
Just the shampoo.
Thanks, but it’s empty.
And whose fault is that?
You need to bring some with you when you visit.
I bite my nail, excited at the prospect.
Maybe.
As I’m about to type another message, he beats me to it.
Gotta go. Mom, Roni, and Poppy just arrived.
My chest pangs, knowing no one will greet me when I arrive home.
Say hi to them for me.
I will, but you can do it in person when you meet them.
Heart delightfully pounding with nerves, I can’t type fast enough.
Okay. Does this weekend work?
It can’t come soon enough