hear the word ‘sex’ in any form. He wraps the chain gently around my neck. The gold feels slightly cold against my skin. His fingers graze the back of my neck, sending shivers through me. I close my eyes, craving his touch. He clamps the clasp, his fingers tickling my spine. I turn to him, desire pooling through me. I bite back the feelings I’m experiencing — it’s almost painful. “How does it look?”
“Beautiful,” he breathes, and his eyes seem to darken.
He pulls me into his arms again. I can feel his heart beat hard. I pull myself closer to him, tighter, and bury my hands in his hair. He presses his face against my neck, and trails his mouth along my cheek. His mouth searches for mine. I close my eyes. Every inch of my being wants to be kissed.
One last kiss.
Weston’s mouth finally finds mine. I catch my breath at the sensation of his soft wet lips on mine. His tongue teases. His kiss is sweet, gentle, coaxing. There is a strong need within me, but it’s not desire or lust. It’s a powerful need to be as close to him as I possibly can, to be tied to him forever.
Although, it takes every iota of strength I possess, I manage to pull myself away. He looks at me as if he understands I can’t kiss him.
“That was a goodbye kiss, Weston.”
His face falls. Any joy or hope there was there, has evaporated into thin air. All there is now is sorrow and pain and emptiness.
I trail my hand along the edge of his jaw, his five o’clock shadow rough on the pads of my fingers. “I’m sorry. You know I had to choose.”
He can’t seem to quite look at me when he says, “And you’ve chosen Gabe.”
“Yes, I have. And I think you should try to make a go of it with Bridget again. You two have a beautiful family.”
The tears stream down his cheeks again. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man cry so much. And to think, I used to believe he was cold, without feeling. I was so wrong. He’s the most sensitive, most passionate person I’ve ever met — which is what got us into this mess in the first place. Logic doesn’t prevail with two hopeless romantics. Our love story was always doomed to failure. And I think we both knew this, but we still wanted to live it.
I wipe another tear. “Don’t ever think, for one second, that I didn’t love you, Weston.”
He ventures a look up at me. “Did you?”
“I did. I still do. I love you, Weston. I probably always will.”
He clears his throat, his voice still a little shaky. “You don’t know how I longed to hear those words. I know I’ll always love you, until the day I die.”
I sigh, knowing he will love me until the day he dies. It may not be love. It may be infatuation…lust, but whatever it might be, he feels it passionately and always will. My stomach drops knowing we both need to let go soon. “Can I lay with you?” I ask, “Just for a little while before we go?”
He wraps his arm around me and pulls me to him, a soft smile on his face. We lean back on the blue blanket and look up at the sky which has cleared up, the clouds dancing across the bright blue. We lay in silence. I listen to his beating heart, knowing this is the last time I will ever hear it.
I suck in a breath. “There’s something else I wanted to tell you,” I say, turning to look at him. I know he won’t like what I’m about to tell him. There is finality about it, like I’ve written ‘The End’. I’ve made a life-changing decision, which was decided, in large part, because of him. This is how serious I am about breaking from him, making my own way — a new life, a new chance for Gabe and I. “We’re moving.”
He jerks up. “What? Where? Since when?”
I swallow hard. “We’re moving to Phoenix. Gabe has a work opportunity there. We just decided not too long ago.”
His face falls. “Why now?” he asks.
When I don’t answer, he fixes me, his gaze intense, his eyes a darker shade than I’ve ever seen them. “It’s about me, isn’t it?”
I hesitate a little. “Yes, it’s mostly about you…about the two of us.”
He rubs his face hard, almost as if he’s trying to