Just One Kiss - J. Saman Page 0,49

hold my breath and turn around. Miles is standing there, something in a long cardboard tube with a white cap in one hand and something smaller wrapped in brown paper in the other.

“These are for you.”

Right. Well…

“Oh, firefly, don’t cry.”

Uh-huh. I nod. I swallow. I cry. Didn’t I just freaking promise myself I wouldn’t be this girl?

He crosses his room and takes me in his arms, tossing my perfume bottle on his bed like it’s there to stay. “I’m sorry, London. But if I don’t let you go now, I’m only going to get greedier. I can’t lose you the way I’ve lost everything else that’s ever mattered to me. You’ll go back to New York and I’ll still be here. That’s how it works for me. That’s how it’s supposed to work for you. Your life is there. Mine is here.”

How do you tell the guy you want to stay when he’s not even offering that up as an option?

“Miles—”

“Be careful with these, okay? They’re both fragile. But I don’t want you to open them until tomorrow. Until Christmas. They’re so, you know, you’ll think back and remember your time here with me.”

Is he joking with that? Think back? Like I need objects to remember him by?

Miles hugs me tighter, his voice growing raspy, hoarse, like just the art of pushing words past his vocal cords is the workout of a lifetime. “I knew it was going to be like this. I just” —hard swallow— “I just…” He can’t even finish what he’s trying to say, and I can’t beg him to.

I can’t beg him to change.

Instead he kisses my face, my closed eyes with my wet lashes. My nose that’s running and likely red. My lips that hunger for him. That need him to say all the right things when everything he’s saying is wrong.

He takes me by the hand, packages in tow and gathers my suitcases. I clutch my new presents while he carries my bags wordlessly down the stairs. Fletcher must sense the world of despair in the room because he mumbles something about putting my bags in the SUV and leaves in a rush.

“I’ll have your car fixed and make sure you get it.”

“I wanted you to come with me,” I finally manage.

“I can’t, London. Coming with you will kill me. If I can’t keep you, then I have to let you go now.”

“But—”

He steps forward, captures my mouth with his and tamps down any further argument I can mount. I can feel it. His desperation. His torment. A man who has never known the pleasure of love, only the pain. Only the loss. Only the fear.

Fletcher clears his throat and I reluctantly pull back. I don’t know what to do right now other than go. Other than hope, it doesn’t end this way. Other than muster up the strength to believe it won’t. That there is, in fact, more for us. He just has to find a way to believe in it the way I do.

But as I look into his blue eyes one last time, I know that won’t happen. He’s letting me go. For good.

Chapter Nineteen

LONDON

I have no idea how long the ride up to my parents’ house takes. It feels like an eternity and also brutally quick. I sit silently in the back of the SUV and Fletcher is smart enough not to try and fill it with empty banter. I feel like I’ve left my heart back there and I’m not sure how to get it back.

By the time we arrive, it’s late and most of the lights are off, but as I walk into the kitchen behind Fletcher who is carrying my bags straight up to my bedroom, I find both of my parents and my sisters sitting around the kitchen in their pajamas drinking tea and munching on Christmas cookies.

“Santa’s going to be pissed when he finds you’re eating all his cookies.”

All heads swivel in my direction and I don’t have to force a smile even when my insides feel like they’re being ripped apart. I’m happy to be here. I missed my family. This is where I belong. Sorta.

One by one, they all stand up. Loud, affectionate ‘welcome homes’ and ‘we’re so happy you’re okay’ and ‘now Christmas is complete’ surround me as do their hugs and kisses. I sink into that. Meld into their love and push everything else back.

I go for the plate of cookies and accept a cup of tea.

Chamomile, my favorite. With any