“But you’ve told her that you’re back.”
“I . . . sent her an email a couple weeks ago to make sure we were still on for the trip.” Everything I had to say to her needed to be said in person, which wasn’t an opportunity we’d had.
“You’re seriously going to get on that plane, hope she shows up at LAX, and then what . . . pray she didn’t get a boyfriend who can actually be around in the last six months?”
“Pretty much.” She’d said she was coming, but the email had been short, which I’d expected given the timing of her finals. Didn’t mean my stomach wasn’t in knots that she might have changed her mind. We’d both bought tickets in January, and I’d covered the resort, but the financial cost would be nothing compared to the blow of knowing I’d messed up our entire relationship because I hadn’t been able to keep my hands to myself six months ago.
“Right.” He pulled his sunglasses down and looked over the rims. “That whole we-live-in-a-gray-area thing you have going on is eventually biting you in the ass.”
“I know.” I sighed. “But until it does, I’m not messing with the only good thing I have in my life.”
“Don’t forget that you passed selection for Special Forces. That’s a pretty badass thing you have going for you.” He grinned back at me.
“Truth. We are pretty badass. Thanks for the ride.” I pulled my Saint Louis Blues cap down and shut his door.
Five hours later, I waited at the gate in Los Angeles for flight 4482 to Nandi, tapping my foot with more than a little nervous energy as the minutes counted down. I checked the boarding pass again and made sure I was at the right gate. I was.
Izzy wasn’t here.
I picked up my phone and debated calling, but knowing she wasn’t coming now as opposed to fifteen minutes from now wasn’t going to change anything. At least that was the lie I told myself. Fear turned my blood to ice.
Our emails had been shorter and shorter over the last few months.
Our phone calls had been nonexistent between the deployment and selection.
She had every right to change her mind, to date, to fall in love with someone else. God knew if she was mine, really, honestly mine, there was no way in hell I’d be comfortable with her flying off to Fiji with another man for a week.
Minutes ticked by, and the attendant told the people around me in their vacation clothes, an overabundance of flowered shirts and cargo shorts, to prepare to board.
They called passengers to preboard, and I stood, shifting my backpack to my shoulder as I surveyed everyone around me, looking for a flash of blonde hair and sparkling brown eyes.
Then the attendant called our group to board.
Holy fucking shit. This was actually happening.
There was still time, though, and Izzy wasn’t the kind of woman to stand someone up. She would have called. Written. Sent a carrier pigeon to tell me she was pissed or not coming.
I moved into line, scanned my ticket at the entrance to the gateway, and then walked down the jet bridge, my heart pounding with every step. By the time I found my seat, and hers empty next to it, the pounding had become a dull roar in my ears.
I took the seat next to the window because she’d never been comfortable there after the crash, and then I did the only thing I could—wait. Raising the shade on the window, I looked out over the tarmac and tried to find anything out there worth distracting myself with. When that didn’t work, I pulled out my copy of Catch-22 and a highlighter.
Was I supposed to get off? Go by myself? Fly straight to DC and beg her to talk to me?
The scent of Chanel wrapped around me like a lover, and I smiled.
“That was close,” she said, and my head whipped toward her. Those were the first words I’d ever spoken to her in a plane considerably smaller than this one. Izzy’s eyes were a little red and puffy, like she’d been crying but had stopped hours ago, and her smile was bright as she sank into her seat. “My flight was delayed out of DC.”
“Hey, Izzy.” My gaze devoured her, taking in the loose sweep of her hair up to the bun she wore, a few strands of the honey blonde falling around her face, and the curve of her soft lips. I needed to lean across the small barrier between our seats and kiss the shit out of her. I’d missed her more than I’d let myself realize.
“Hey, Nate,” she said softly, scanning over my features like she was looking for new scars, new injuries to catalog. There were none where she could see.
“You’ve been crying.” My stomach tightened.
She nodded.
“Want to talk about it?” All she had to do was tell me who to kill, and they’d be dead.
“I broke up with someone I liked.” She shrugged. “This trip wouldn’t have been fair to him. I don’t regret it. It was the right choice.” She fastened her seat belt and reached for my hand, locking our fingers.
It was hard to breathe under the weight of guilt of knowing I was the reason she was hurting, but with the simple touch of her hand in mine, I was home.
“Izzy,” I whispered, unable to put my feelings to words as pain settled in my chest. There was nothing I wouldn’t do to keep her from pain, even if it meant I wasn’t her choice. “You didn’t have to. And you don’t have to come now. You can walk off this plane, and there will be no hard feelings.”
“But I did have to break up with him.” She sighed, leaning back and turning so her cheek rested against the seat as she looked at me. “Because it didn’t matter how much I liked him. I would rather spend a week with you than a lifetime with him. That wasn’t fair to either of us, you know?”
I thought about the relationships I’d ended because I knew I’d be seeing Izzy soon, or because I’d realized that nothing compared to the way I felt around her.
“Yeah. I know.” The pain in my chest expanded, and I picked up her hand, pressing a kiss to the soft skin of the back of it. I would make it up to her. I had to.
The water lapped at our feet twenty-four hours later as we walked down the deserted beach. We’d flown, then flown again, then passed out side by side once we’d reached our overwater bungalow that had cost me more than I even wanted to think about.
I slept my first full night in what felt like years, and waking up beside her, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest, was the closest I’d ever been to heaven.
Or maybe that was right now, watching her smile down at the water, the sun kissing her bare shoulders in her sundress.
“So, what are you thinking for next year?” she asked.
“We haven’t even been here a full day and you’re asking about next year?” I slipped my hand into my pocket, fumbling with the little box I’d brought along. “I’m still thinking about renting those WaveRunners or going for a hike later.”