He looks away and the sound he makes in his chest tells me he’s finding this every bit as difficult as I am. I squeeze his hand. It feels as if we’re passing the ‘I’ll be the strong one now’ baton between us.
‘I borrowed you from Boston and you borrowed me from London. And now there are two little boys in Boston who need their superhero back.’
His kids’ faces come to me, Susie’s too – the image from Mack’s wallet he showed me on the very first day we met, in a misguided effort to prove it was safe for us to spend the night under the same roof. I can’t imagine that a man who wears novelty cufflinks and calls her schmaltzy names will hold his own for long against a man with magic eyes, whose kiss feels as if he’s giving you a piece of his soul. He’s going home, and unless the woman has rocks in her head or, like the Tin Man, is missing a heart, she’ll take one look at Mack and realize she made the biggest mistake of her entire life. In my head, I see his kids running to meet him at the airport and Susie meeting his eyes over their shining heads as he hugs them. It’s a love story. But it isn’t my love story. Mack and I have held on to each other and now it’s time to let go.
‘I think I see the boat,’ he says, standing.
I see it in the distance too, and it all feels horribly, lurchingly real. ‘Oh, Mack,’ I say, getting to my feet. ‘You’re really leaving.’
He turns and pulls me into his arms, the tightest of hugs, the hardest of goodbyes.
He holds my tear-streaked face in his hands. ‘You’re the micro-love of my life.’
I look into those wonderful, mismatched eyes and find them brimming with ‘another time, another place’ longing. ‘I micro-love you too,’ I say.
Our kiss is tear-salty and endless, bittersweet beautiful. I hear the boat’s engine idle as it draws near to the beach and I have to stop myself from clinging on, from begging him to stay, because I know he can’t. I even know that being alone is the right thing for me right now, but none of that matters because the thought of never seeing his face again is killing me.
‘I won’t call,’ he says against my hair.
‘And I won’t call,’ I say. ‘Oh, I have something for you,’ I add, remembering. I dig in my jeans pocket and press something small into his hand.
‘Chalk,’ he says, laughing and crying as he looks at it. ‘I’ll keep it for ever.’
‘I’ll think of you whenever I hear Springsteen,’ I say. And every other day of my life, I don’t say.
‘I’ll think of you too, often,’ he says.
We turn to look at the skipper of the boat as he trudges up the beach and calls out to us, a huge net of orange pumpkins leaving drag marks in the sand behind him. ‘Just the one of you, is it?’
Mack nods. ‘Just me.’
‘I’ll take your bags down, will I?’ If he can see that we’re both a mess, he has the good grace not to mention it, leaving just one holdall behind on the sand for Mack to pick up.
‘Right then,’ I say, breathing deeply through my nose. ‘You best get going.’
He takes my cue, nodding, brisk. ‘Can’t miss that connection.’
He looks over his shoulder at the waiting boat and then into my eyes. ‘I’ll be seeing you then,’ he says, even though we both know he won’t. He cradles my face between his hands, one last moment of connection.
I pull my jacket tighter around my ribs, though it’s a warm day by Salvation standards. ‘Just go,’ I say. ‘Go and don’t look back.’ I aim for brave, but the truth is I don’t want him to see me fall to pieces.
He stares at me, long and so full of meaning that it speaks a million words, and then he turns and walks away, his holdall slung over his shoulder. I watch him all the way to the shoreline, see him hand his bag to the skipper, and then he hesitates. He hesitates and my heart goes into weightless freefall behind my ribcage because he’s running back up the beach towards me.
‘I told you not to look back,’ I say, trembling.
‘One,’ he says, breathing hard, clutching my hands. ‘Promise me you’ll write that damn book, Cleo.’
I nod and I cry because this is all so hard on my heart.
‘Two,’ he says. ‘You’re in here for ever.’ He touches one hand to his chest, choked up.
‘And three …’
‘Don’t say it.’ I put my fingertips against his lips and he closes his eyes and kisses them. ‘Just go.’