“I don’t think I can say goodbye to you.” Because it wasn’t just about saying goodbye. It was about seeing him slip out of my life without being able to do anything about it. It was about how unfair it was that timing hadn’t been on our side. It was about how much I wanted him not to go. “I… don’t think I can go with you to the airport and watch you leave. I—” I closed my eyes. Shook my head. “I can’t, Lucas. I just—”
I felt his mouth on my forehead, his lips pressing on my skin for a long moment.
“It’s okay, Ro,” he told me in a whisper. “You don’t have to come. I understand.”
I didn’t want him to understand, though.
I wanted him to fight me. To make me say the words I hadn’t yet uttered out loud because he needed them. To tell me that he wouldn’t leave, or that we wouldn’t become nothing but a memory. To tell me that as much as he hadn’t figured out his new life, he wanted me in it. Needed me.
But I couldn’t make him say those things. And I’d understand if he didn’t.
It broke my heart, but I wouldn’t make him put my heart before himself. “Okay,” I breathed out. And when I opened my eyes, I wasn’t ready to see what was staring back at me.
There was an emotion flooding Lucas’s face, his eyes, the way his features were arranged right this moment. As if he was in far more pain than I was. As if he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving. As if he loved me.
Without a word, he clasped my hand and pulled me toward the bed.
And without a word, I went.
He guided me onto my back and braced his hands on each side of my head.
His gaze met mine, and I swore he was looking at me with this emotion I didn’t want to acknowledge out loud. That powerful, all-consuming emotion that mirrored mine.
“What do you need?” he said, placing a kiss on the corner of my mouth. “I’ll give it to you, Rosie.”
The answer was so simple, so obvious, that I didn’t even understand why he asked.
I grabbed on to him almost desperately, and told him, “You.”
Because it was only him I needed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Lucas
I rested my elbows on my knees and let my head fall between my shoulders. Closing my eyes, I told myself for the hundredth time that I’d done the right thing.
The only thing I could have done.
Rosie wasn’t the only one struggling with the idea of saying goodbye. I was, too. I… didn’t think I could have gone through it if I hadn’t left the way I did.
I snuck out while she was still asleep.
I was a coward.
But it was about survival.
I couldn’t give her what she deserved. I was… a man with no plan. No life. No purpose. Sin oficio ni beneficio, like Abuela would say.
And if I had stayed one more minute in that bed with her all soft and warm and wonderful against me, I would have never left her side. I would have only delayed what was to come: her finding someone else that could give her all the things she wanted and deserved. Everything we’d had, and stability. Someone that had goddamn plan, a future. Someone who had his shit together.
I didn’t want Rosie to settle for me. And I wouldn’t let myself use her, use us, to ignore reality.
Eyeing the counter again, I finally saw my destination displayed on the screen above it indicating that it was open for check-in.
“Fucking finally,” I muttered under my breath, even when I knew that this was on me for showing up at the airport hours early.
Instead of enjoying that time with Rosie.
With a sigh that wasn’t of relief, I stood up, grabbed my backpack from the floor, and called for Taco, “Vamos, chico.” Then I headed to the queue before it got too long.
Checking my phone as I stood there, I fired a text to my sister, who had arrived in Spain from Boston yesterday. With the time difference, I knew it had to be around lunchtime in Spain.
Lucas: At the airport. Will you pick us up?
Lucas: Can we stay at your place tonight?
Charo: first, I babysit your dog. Now, the two of you?
I rolled my eyes; she was just being difficult by default. I knew my big sister.
Charo: Abuela is staying here too, she planted herself here today. So we’ll go pick you up. I’ll bring sandwiches to the airport; I know flying gets you hungry. Jamón or chorizo?
Lucas: Jamón.
Charo: How about please and thank you?
Lucas: Please. Thanks.
Lucas: And why is Abuela with you?
Charo: Rude. I hope you got her a gift. Mamá, too.
Lucas: oh.