“Ma’am? Ma’am? Is something wrong?” said the flight attendant, peering at me from the door of the plane. “Do you need assistance?”
“It’s all wrong…” I said out loud to no one. “I got to go…”
I ran back toward the door, lugging my oversized tote bag. I made it to the door just before the agent was closing. I could hear the woman cursing just as I made it back to the terminal. I scanned the gate, looking for Porter over the crowds making their way through the busy airport. I finally found him standing next to the coffee kiosk, scrolling dejectedly on his phone.
I walked behind him, holding my tote close to me. “I mean, I guess my luggage will get there before I will.”
Porter turned around, eyes wide in disbelief. “But… I thought I saw you get on the plane?”
“I got halfway down the ramp and turned around. I sprinted back before they closed the door. The agent was calling out to me, but I didn’t care. You made me run. You know I hate running.”
Porter put his hands on my face, pulling me closer to him. Our lips met and we kissed without regard to the crowds around us. I’d missed his kisses, the warmth of his breath, the fullness of his lips against mine. Porter deepened the kiss, moving his hands to my hips and me into him, where I was fully aware of his erection, growing slowly in the airport. I pulled back, the taste of his lips lingering. Porter let out a satisfied moan.
“You’re stuck with me,” I whispered.
“And I’ll follow you to the moon and back. Or in this case, Madrid.”
Porter kissed me, pushing his body closer to me, and gripping my ass through the fabric of my skirt. The firm grip of his hands made me smile against his lips.
“I’ll pay for the ticket change for both of us,” Porter whispered into my ear, finally coming up for air.
I threw my head back, laughing. “Oh, I know you will, Trust Fund! And it better be first class. I’m not flying to Madrid in coach.”
We kissed again, deeper and with more urgency. We pulled back, desperate for air. Yet, wanted to still drown in each other.
“I love you, Ari.”
I looked into his seafoam eyes. They were pooling with tears. Wetness rolled down my own cheeks. Porter took an index finger, sweeping the tears away.
“And I love you too, PJ. But I have a question?”
“Ask me anything, baby?”
“So, when did you kick Greer in the balls? Before or after you quit?”
Porter smiled. “You know me so well, Mon Coeur. But it was more like a punch to the face. My knuckles are still sore.”
My face slowly crept into a smile as I looked down at Porter’s swollen knuckles. I lifted his hand and kissed the deep purple bruise. “Well, you’ll have to tell me all about it on the flight over to Madrid. In the meantime, let’s get some ice for that hand, Champ.”
Porter laughed. “I will but right now, I’m starving. The flight to Spain is going to be long and I need one last hit of soul food before we go.”
“Come on. Let’s get you something to eat. I hear they have gumbo on this concourse. I mean, it won’t be like Senior’s. But—”
Porter kissed me midsentence. After several sweltering kisses, I pulled back, gently pressing the tip of my nose against his. He smiled. “That’ll be perfect.”
Epilogue
Ari
3 Years Later
We watched as Desmond hung the large mural across the wall of the office foyer. Porter supervised while Eloise, my mom, and I all stood back with our heads cocked to one side in curiosity. Porter had his hands on my back, and as always, was rubbing it in small, reassuring circles.
“Well… What is it?” asked my mother, as she put the temple of her glasses between her teeth.
“Can’t you see it?” asked Desmond. “It’s a train. You know, where Porter first saw Ari. Porter’s the artist. He can explain it better.”
“Well,” said Porter. “It’s my interpretation of that.”
My mother shrugged with squinted eyes. “I guess. I don’t see it. But if you say so.”
Todd walked in, carrying a large box, followed by Kim, holding two gorgeous lamps. Todd was doing great, having been sober for almost three years, and practicing civil rights law at a smaller firm. Todd shifted the box to one hand, giving me a one-arm hug. Kim balanced a lamp on each hip. Both stood in front of the painting, transfixed, trying to figure out what it was.
Todd scrunched his lips in confusion. “Des, what is this? A worm?”