I wasn’t prepared.
Martin had been right, the posters were everywhere, and everywhere included the baggage claim at O’Hare. I’d wanted to take it out of the plexiglass display, roll it up, and steal it, especially when I spotted two other women do a double take as they walked by. One of them elbowed the other and they shared a look.
They shared a look about my boyfriend . . .?
No.
Wait.
Is that what he was?
That would make you his girlfriend.
No.
Maybe?
I had no idea.
Anyway, I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that people in the airport had seen Abram with his hair down, shirtless, in his underwear before I had. And that gave me the sad. Would I ever see him with his hair down? Would I ever see him in his underwear?
Only time would tell, and time was being evasive.
Presently, my hand moved to the folded piece of paper I’d been carrying every day, now in my PJ pocket, and I rubbed my finger over the outline of its folded corners. I’d replaced my beloved letter—the one that Abram had burned in Aspen—with the poem he’d left me on my side table. The original letter I’d carried was thick, three pages of hefty hopes and dreams. This one was much smaller, which felt appropriate because it contained just one hope, This is not goodbye.
Then why does it feel like goodbye?
“Hey,” Lisa said, pulling me out of my reflections. “You know, I almost cried when I saw the poster too.” I could tell by the shift in her tone that she was trying to be funny, trying to cheer me up. “O’Hare should take it down, otherwise the arrivals area will be full of swooning, weeping women.”
Ugh. “Not helping.”
“I’m sorry. I’m just trying to—” Lisa’s tone changed. “Listen, he’s famous. Okay? He’s famous, he’s a rock star, and he’s a model, and he’s hot, and that means he’s going to be a sex object, an object of lust for thousands of women. Those are the facts. You can’t burst into tears every time you see a billboard of Abram Fletcher in his underwear.”
My head whipped around to my sister and time slowed. “There are billboards?” My voice cracked, because of course it did.
She scrunched her face, and her response seemed to take forever. “Forget I said that.”
“You’ve seen billboards of Abram in his underwear?”