He smiled, and it hit me right in the chest.
God, I would miss that grin. How it was cold on the edges and scorching in the middle. But mostly … it was just wild.
Like my Oliver.
I sighed and heard the hitch in my voice each time my throat tremored. “She’s been counting down the hours.”
I thought of the sign she had threatened to make and bring with her to Logan Airport tomorrow, and when all of this didn’t feel heavy, I would probably laugh.
As he moved to my other foot, I added, “Maybe you’ll get to meet her in August.”
A few weeks ago, the guys had begun talking about their annual trip, and I suggested they come to Boston.
His expression told me what I already feared.
“Ibiza won?”
When he nodded, I saw the disappointment on his face.
“I was hoping for it too, sweet girl.”
I had known it was a stretch, but having him come to America was still my only shot at seeing him.
And now, that was gone.
His expression continued to deepen, his grip tightening, more emotion spreading over his face until he said, “Come here.”
I didn’t hesitate. I maneuvered my body around to throw myself in his arms, and once I was there, I squeezed him with every bit of love I had in me.
And I hugged him for so long that when we were standing outside Heathrow the next morning, it felt like I’d never let him go.
We’d taken a taxi, and it was double-parked in front of the terminal while we were standing by the trunk, my two suitcases by our feet. Police officers were directing traffic, whistles loudly blown when drivers were parked for too long.
We were running out of time.
But Oliver’s arms didn’t release me; he held them at my sides like locks, keeping me pressed to his body. “Fuck, gorgeous,” he whispered in my ear.
My face was buried in his chest, hands clinging to his sweatshirt, as I breathed him in.
I’d thought about this moment, and I’d tried to prepare myself for it, so when the emotions came, I would be able to handle them. Except they were here, bursting through my chest, dripping from my eyes.
And I was falling apart, and I couldn’t stop it.
As my hands readjusted, a fear came through me, reminding me that, in just a few minutes, I wouldn’t be able to touch him. It was consuming that when I went to take a breath, I couldn’t get the air in. “This can’t be the last time I see you.”
His lips pressed into the top of my head. “I hope it won’t be.”
There was another whistle and shouting, and from this angle, I wasn’t able to tell if it was directed at our taxi or a different one.
But when Oliver sighed, “Damn it,” I took that as my answer.
But I couldn’t go. Not yet. I needed just a few more seconds with him. “I’m going to m-miss you.”
One of his arms released me, and another shot of terror burst through my chest, thinking he was letting me go until I realized he was only bringing me closer. And now, with his lips pressed into my hair, I felt each of his exhales, each grunt of emotion.
And something inside me released.
It hadn’t happened in the days building up to this moment when I shed so many tears. It was a sensation I’d never felt before, a raw gnawing that was like an animal tearing through me. “Oh God.”
The pain was too much. I had to make it stop. I had to make this right somehow because I couldn’t think past not being able to see him again.
“Oliver,” I cried, pulling my face away, so I could look at his. “I …” There were so many thoughts; they were moving in all different directions. I couldn’t pull them together, and I couldn’t get them straight. “Tell me not to go,” I cried out, and I couldn’t even see him through the tears. “Tell me not to get on the plane, and I’ll give up the internship. I’ll give up everything, and I’ll stay here with you.” I swallowed, and air shot through my lips because there were so many tears and no breath. “Just tell me, Oliver …”
I felt movement, and I was wrapped in him again, filled with a warmth that didn’t make it beyond my skin.
“Fuck …” There was so much pain in his voice. “Chloe, do you know how badly I want to say those words to you?” His hand was on the back of my head, tilting my chin so I could meet his lips. “But I can’t. I want you to have this internship more than anything, and I’m not going to be the one to take it away from you.”
“B-but I’d do it … for y-you.”
His mouth was on mine, kissing me with a fierceness. “And I fucking love you for that, but I’d never let you.”
My tears were making our lips wet, the truth of his statement causing them to drip faster. “H-how do I”—my chest felt like it was going to cave—“s-say good-bye to you?”
“Sweet girl …” He pressed his nose to mine, breathing so heavy, not saying anything for a few seconds. “I know how you’re going to be when you get back, so I want you to listen to me.” He made sure I could see his eyes, and that was when the emotion started to fill them. “I want you to get your arse out there with Molly and party like hell and have the time of your fucking life.” He tightened his hands as he spoke, emphasizing each word, his eyes now getting so watery that it was causing me to cry harder. “Make me and my mates proud, okay?” He paused, and my throat trembled as the first tear fell over his lid. “If you need anything, I’m here.”
One of my hands released his shirt, and I lifted it to his beard, knowing the tear was in there somewhere. “Oliver …” I sniffled.
And he just stared at me, not saying a word, holding me with such firmness.
I was already shaking, but I felt it get worse.
Because we were here.
At our last second.
Oh God.
He finally whispered, “My beautiful, sweet girl,” and there was so much pain in his voice that it sent a rawness through me that made my stomach ache. “Promise me something …”
I couldn’t answer; I just stared at him and continued to hold his face.
“Promise you won’t ever forget me.”
With the streams falling from my lids, my vision was now completely gone. But I didn’t need it because his lips were on mine. I sucked in his breath, and I circled my arms around his neck. I felt him give me everything he had left.
“Chloe,” he said so softly.
And I knew it was over.
The kiss.
The moment.
Us.
My eyes opened, and I stared into his face. “You were so perfect to me, Oliver. I will”—sobs racked my chest—“never forget that.”
“I love you.” His mouth was on mine again, but it was a gentle kiss, and I knew his tears were touching mine. And the whole moment was like a breath, over far too quickly.
As impossible as this felt, I had to be the one to leave.
I forced my fingers to release their grip on his sweatshirt, my arms dropping to my sides. “I love you … too.” I gasped, my hand going to my chest to help the air move through it.
I couldn’t say any more; it would be too final, and I just couldn’t handle that right now.
So, I stood there, taking in the feel of him, doing a final sweep.