“This is what you’ve been working for, gorgeous.”
“But four weeks? That feels like nothing.”
“I know.” I heard the pain again in his voice, and it hit me—everywhere. “This isn’t what either of us wanted or what we planned for.” The light blue in his eyes was holding me in a way I wouldn’t ever forget. “But you’ve got to take this internship and kick its arse and make me fucking proud. These opportunities come around once in a lifetime, and you’re not going to let go of this one because of me. You hear me?”
I shook my head, staring at this wonderful man, the ache in my chest becoming unbearable.
Still not feeling close enough, I slid off the stool and fell into his arms, where they wrapped tightly around me. He was telling me to give this up two months sooner.
To give us up.
And he was so selfless when he had said that, but it was still hard to hear.
“I’m going to go to the loo,” he said, pulling back from our hug. “Then, Jake is going to get up on the table and have everyone in the bar sing our girl a congratulations.”
“What are we celebrating?” Jake asked, setting the three beers down, pushing two across the table toward us.
I laughed at the thought of Jake on a high-top and lifted the mug into my hands.
Oliver put his arm over my shoulders. “Chloe got a big internship in Boston, and she’s leaving us in a few weeks.”
“Is that right?” Jake asked, and I nodded. “I’d say that’s a reason to celebrate. Of course, we don’t want to see you go either.”
Oliver’s arm left my shoulders, and he kissed me on the cheek and said, “Be right back.”
Since I was still standing, I sat in the same seat as before and drank the rest of my beer before I could move on to the cold one Jake had just brought.
“When do you leave?”
I swallowed, and I knew it wasn’t the carbonation that was burning my throat. “Twenty-seven days. If I accept the position.”
“Jesus.” He rubbed his bare forearm. It didn’t matter how cold it was outside, Jake only wore T-shirts, his arms covered in colorful cartoon tattoos. “He’s going to miss you.” He adjusted his thick black-framed glasses. “We all are, but, man, is he going to hurt over you …”
It felt like my entire body was trembling, and I was doing everything I could not to let a single tear into my eyes, especially when I said, “You have no idea.”
“I remember the way he was when we were in Switzerland, texting you all the time, calling. It’s going to be hard when you’re so far away.” His hand went to my shoulder, patting the top of it. “You’re going to come back and visit us, won’t you?”
I didn’t answer for two reasons. I was too afraid I wouldn’t be able to hold off the tears and because another trip to London wasn’t in my future. I certainly couldn’t afford the ticket; I just didn’t have that kind of money. My parents had already bought me this set of flights, and they didn’t have the extra funds for another flight. Going back and forth to see him wasn’t an option.
Fortunately, Oliver returned, and I didn’t have to respond. Standing behind me, he wrapped his arms around my neck and said to Jake, “I think you have some singing to do.”
The boys laughed as Jake got on top of our table.
“Excuse me,” he shouted through the pub, using his hands as a megaphone. “I need everyone’s attention, please.”
Even the band in the corner quieted.
“Our friend Chloe fucking Kennedy”—he pointed at me, and the attention in the room shifted in my direction. Even the beer was unable to hold off my embarrassment—“will be flying home soon for an internship. There’s a lot of people in this pub who are going to miss her, so let’s give her a congratulations that she’ll be able to take all the way back to America.”
I felt the red move into my face while the entire bar began to sing to me.
At the end of the song, Jake held his beer in the air and shouted, “Chloe, have yourself one hell of a fucking time!”
I grabbed my glass off the table, and said, “Thank you,” to everyone in the bar and to Jake before I took a drink.
Oliver’s face went into my neck the second the mug left my lips. His hands tightened on my stomach, and he kissed my cheek. He was silent for a few moments, and then, “I bet you’re never going to forget us.”
“Oliver …” I whispered, the pain making it too hard to speak any louder. “That would be impossible.”
Nineteen
Once I signed the contract with Back Bay Digital, I knew my time with Oliver would go by fast, yet each day, we would grow closer. That was exactly what happened. I was learning so much about him, falling for every detail. But in the back of my mind was a countdown, a number that flashed before my eyes when I looked at him.
And it ticked away faster than I could breathe.
Especially once I started receiving emails from Professor Naples, discussing the class he was having me TA for next semester and the list of philanthropy he wanted me to participate in and the marketing events the school was putting on that I should attend.
I was back … and I hadn’t even left.
And my departure date continued to hang between Oliver and me, a topic we had avoided discussing since there wasn’t anything either of us could do to change what was going to happen. But I felt it every day, this ache growing in the pit of my stomach whenever I thought about leaving.
And on my last night in London, it felt like it had eaten a hole straight through me.
Prior to going to Oliver’s, I’d spent several hours with my roommate, helping her pack and load her things into a taxi, hugging her before she flew back to South Africa. Then, I’d spent the rest of the afternoon with Oliver and his roommates. That night, we all cooked dinner together, and I got a chance to spend some time with them before they went out for the evening.
Once we cleaned up, Oliver brought our wine into the living room, and we got comfortable on the couch. The doors to the garden were open, and I could smell spring in the breeze. He lifted my legs and placed them across his lap, cupping the bottom of my bare foot, rubbing over my arch.
“Whatever you do,” I groaned, “do not stop.”
I watched him laugh, and it was the most beautiful sight.
He’d asked me several times how I wanted to spend my last night in London, if I wanted to sleep at his family’s cottage—a place we’d now visited a bunch of times—go out with the guys, or if I wanted to go back on the London Eye to see the city one last time. I’d weighed each option, and only one felt right.
London had gotten plenty of my time.
Now, I just wanted my Oliver.
He circled around my heel and through the middle of it. “Are your parents going to be able to make it to the airport?”
“No, they’re coming to visit this weekend instead.” I shook my head, my arms wrapping over my stomach. “I can’t believe I’m going to be home tomorrow.”
He ground his knuckles into the center of my foot, massaging up to my toes. “Molly’s going to be happy to have you back.”