He presses his lips against my temple, and then he’s gone.
Moving down the hall.
Like he’s headed toward the men’s room, but I know the truth.
He won’t be here when I come out.
CHAPTER 5
Val
“Sorry!” I lift my hand in a waving apology to Bo.
My driver, a.k.a. security guard, shakes his head and grabs the handle of my luggage next to the empty baggage carousel.
When I was in the bathroom cleaning up, I noticed my bag vibrating and dragged my phone out just in time to miss Bo’s call. And to see the five other calls I missed.
I texted him immediately, telling him I was sorry for being late but that I had a stomach issue and would be a few more minutes.
I wasn’t more specific than that. But I knew I wouldn’t have to be, because Bo is good at his job and good at not asking me more questions than strictly necessary.
I feel a little bad about him having to wait for me, but then I remember he gets paid by the hour, and I don’t feel so bad anymore.
We walk in silence out to the big SUV that’s illegally parked in the pickup lane—but somehow not being ticketed—and Bo walks my suitcase around to the rear of the vehicle while I climb into the back seat and set my backpack next to my feet.
The moving air from the back door slamming shut wafts the perfume I sprayed on myself before I left the bathroom, since I was paranoid about smelling like sex.
My mind spins as Bo pulls away from the curb and we join the traffic leaving the airport.
And I can’t help but wonder if I’ll really see Dominic again.
And I wonder if he meant for me to keep his jacket, the bundle currently shoved into the top of my bag.
And I’m wondering how long I’m going to stress about this when my phone vibrates from inside my bag.
I take it out, and my chest fills with a soft, light feeling.
Big Guy: Let me know when you make it home safely, Valentine.
I clutch the phone in both hands and smile out the window.
Because that feeling is hope.
I’ve unpacked my luggage, prepped my laundry so I can start it tomorrow—carefully tucking my dirty underwear into the middle of the pile, even though there’s no one else to see it—showered, and put on my pajamas. And now, there is not a single thing to stop me from texting Dominic back.
With only the bedside lamp on, I crawl onto my bed and sit cross-legged against the pillows.
My hands are only shaking a little as I unlock my phone, the screen automatically opening to the text from Big Guy because I’ve looked at it a hundred times since Bo dropped me off at my apartment.
I lock the screen and set the phone on my bright white comforter.
Quit being a baby. He texted you. If he didn’t want you to text him back, he would’ve just said have a good night or it’s been fun or something like that. He specifically told you to text him back.
I pick the phone back up and unlock it again.
“Just send a normal text back.”
I stare at the keyboard.
Then I stare at the text Dominic sent me.
And then I start to feel guilty because he was kind enough to text right away, and he asked me to let him know when I got home. And I’ve been home for a while now.
But there’s about an hour of flying time between here and Chicago, so maybe this delay is perfect to catch him when he’s back on the ground.
“I can be normal.” My lips purse as I blow out a breath. “Think chill.”
I don’t know why the first person who pops into my brain when I say that is Aspen, my half sister, because she might be cool, collected, and proper when she has to be, but she’s not chill. She’s the opposite of chill.
My fingers tap against the letters, and I type out hi, then delete it.
Me: Hey.
Delete.
Me: Good evening, Dominic.
Oh my god. Delete.
I close my eyes.
I was acting like me, more or less, the whole time we were together. So I should keep acting like me.
Me: I’m home! Sorry I didn’t text sooner. I figured you’d be in the air, and I wanted to get all my crap unpacked before bed. And there was this guy today who bought me a new backpack, so I had to take the proper time to appreciate it because I was a little flustered when I got it. Hope your flight was smooth! And I’d love for you to return the favor.
Send.
Oh, wait! No!
Me: Sorry! I meant for you to return the favor of letting me know when you get home safely.
Send.
I groan.
Me: Not like return the favor “return the favor” because that was already very much returned.
Send.