“Of course not, Nora,” he says, setting the book down on my coffee table and walking over to where I’m standing. “It’s the reason I found you.”
He reaches for me, his hand finding its way to my hip and resting gently before his fingers grip it tightly. He swallows hard and I feel my skin heat up, a slow burn, starting where his hand is resting and flooding my face, making me flush.
“You read it?” I ask, knowing it isn’t exactly the kind of book a man would gravitate toward.
“I did, but I didn’t need to. I read the back cover and knew it was our story immediately.”
I freeze when he says “our story”. His words stop me from speaking and I fall weak again. While it is our story, I never thought he’d ever read it or would refer to it as something that belongs to us.
I’ve run through more emotions in the last thirty minutes than I think I have in my entire life. I’m sobbing, I’m angry, I’m terrified, yet I want him to take me in his arms. I want him to remind me what it feels like to be in that moment, to live like I did thirteen years ago.
“Nora,” he says, his voice a hushed whisper as if he doesn’t want to disturb the quiet. “I don’t know where we go from here, but you’re visibly upset.” I can see the confusion in his eyes.
I don’t know how to respond, but I know I need to find my voice, because I’ve literally said nothing about his presence, only a few simple words spoken.
“I’m sorry,” I instantly declare, unsure of what I’m apologizing for. Not being able to find him, for leaving all those years ago without saying goodbye, for my reaction to him currently or maybe it’s for all those things?
When he steps closer, I find myself closing the distance between us and falling into his arms. Cradled against the warmth of his firm chest, his smell a reminder of everything I’ve missed and everything I still want.
I think I’m still in disbelief as I try to take in a deep breath and my chest tightens, my thoughts scrambling to catch up and speak everything I’ve wanted to say. Now that the opportunity is here, I’m silent and scared.
“I looked for you for twelve years,” I stutter out. “I didn’t want to quit…” I stop there, the crying starting up again.
“You don’t need to defend yourself,” Elliot says. “If anyone understands, it’s me.” I feel Elliot’s lips brush my hair and then rest on the top of my head. The simplicity of his gesture comforts me, and in return makes me understand he’s the only other person in the world who can empathize with our situation.
My arms slip gently around his waist as his arms encircle my body, pulling me closer. We stand for what feels like forever, wrapped in each other’s arms just waiting for time to pass by, to ease some of the pain that has consumed us for all these years.
“I don’t even know where to begin,” I eventually say. Do I share with him my obsessive need to find him? How I traveled the country each year in search of him? Or does it all make me seem desperate and crazy? “Did you look for me?”
“Every day of every month of every year. I never stopped, Nora,” he says, his words a crushing blow as if all the air from my lungs is being released. Breathing is nearly impossible.
I’m not sure what hurts worse, the fact that I gave up or the fact that he didn’t. And all along he was just as desperate to find me.
“Stop,” he says calmly as if he can read my thoughts. “This isn’t about you giving up. It’s about us finally finding each other. Can’t you see that? It doesn’t matter that you decided to stop looking for me. What matters is I found you. I found you just like I did thirteen years ago.”
“Elliot,” I pause as I swallow back the tears. “I didn’t want to quit, but it began to consume my life. I missed you so much it hurt. But it was like you weren’t real. No one understood and I began to feel like I was losing control.”
We separate, but my body yells out in protest, craving the touch of his hands, needing to be close to him. And that’s when he steps toward me again, his hand cradling the back of my neck, his other hand on my cheek as he leans in and kisses me softly. His lips press against mine and I feel the tears begin to fall once again.
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Elliot
Her body is pressed against mine and it feels like a dream. The room is warm and as my lips touch hers it feels like home, like this is where I was always meant to be. I can’t let go of her and I’m basking in the easy silence and the ease of the way her body folds into mine, fitting perfectly. The tears are falling from her eyes and I pull back kissing her cheeks and her neck as she moves closer to me until there isn’t even a breath of air between us.
We stand together, our bodies as one and Nora cries into my shirt and I let her. I’m just as confused by this fucked up situation as she is and if anyone understands her need to cry it’s me. This is what we’ve both been waiting for, longing for and now that’s it here neither of us have any idea what to do or say.
Nora lets out a stuttered cry and takes a ragged breath in what I assume is an attempt to calm herself. Her hands are on my chest and her head is resting between them so I kiss the top of her head hoping it helps her settle down.
When I boarded my plane today I was overcome with a sense of completeness, and after all these years I’ve never once regretted meeting Nora at that party. It was like fate had whispered in my ear, like it saw the future and regardless of how things will ultimately turn out, I was meant to meet Nora. Seeing her face today only reaffirms that.
As Nora begins to calm down I quietly say, “Why don’t we sit down,” as I guide her over to the couch. My hands have yet to leave her body and right now my hand is resting on the small of her back.
We sit down and I hand her the beer she placed on the coffee table and she takes a long drink before setting it back down. She turns to look at me, as if she has a million questions but doesn’t know where to begin.
“You don’t have to say anything,” I tell her. “I can go or I can stay. It’s up to you.” The last thing I want to do is disrupt her life or cause her any stress. The way things ended between us and the way we’ve spent the last twelve years has caused both of us enough turmoil.
“I don’t want you to go,” she says and she reaches for my hand as if the constant contact makes this far more real. I want to tell her I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay forever if she wants me to. “And I didn’t want to go then either,” she admits and I know exactly what she’s talking about.
“Why did you?” I ask, not trying to pry for answers but needing them. I think we both do even if it’s just for the purpose of closure.
“My plane was leaving. I was late and my sister called screaming at me. I had no idea what time it was or where you went. I waited, I looked for you, but I couldn’t find you. I didn’t have much time and I panicked and left,” Nora says, but her words come out in a forced rush and she starts to cry again.
“It’s okay. I would’ve done the same thing,” I say as I rest my free hand on her knee and Nora moves closer to me.
“Elliot, I’m sorry.” I’m waiting for her to tell me she’s married, she has a boyfriend, that we were never meant to be and whatever we had all those years ago was a fluke.