Page 84 of Reclaim Me

Hunter hears the pain in my voice, and he looks at me with eyes that are certain enough for the both of us. “I’m going to come visit once a month; we’ll talk on the phone every day and do video calls once a week. We’ll make it work.”

Tears crowd my eyes, but I nod. “We’ll make it work.”

Will looks between us, and there’s something odd in his expression as he picks up his glass of sparkling water and holds it in the air for a toast. Hunter and I join him, and I push my fears and doubts down, leaving only room for the happiness of this moment with the two most important men in my life.

“To your futures,” Will says, clinking our glasses together. “May you always have love. May you always have each other.”

30

HUNTER

Then

“I’m going to be Juliet!” Rae whisper-screams through the phone. It’s the fifth time she’s said it, and each time, there’s a little less shock in her voice. “I can’t believe it, Hunter. I don’t think the company has ever had a Black Juliet before.”

“Even if they have, she probably can’t hold a candle to you.” I push the words out past the lump in my throat that’s all dashed hopes and disappointment I can’t express.

Two months.

That’s how long she’s been gone. That’s how long it’s been since I’ve held her in my arms or woken up next to her. That’s how long it’s been since I’ve kissed her lips. We were supposed to do monthly visits; that’s what we promised each other, but last month, when I scraped up enough to buy the flight, Rae had to call and cancel because a friend of a roommate’s friend invited her to their Hamptons rental for the weekend.

Now we’re going to miss out on each other again because one of the principal dancers hurt her ankle, which led to her roles being divided among a few of the girls in the corps de ballet. Rae, the little overachiever that she is, already knows all of the choreography, but now that she’s officially going to be dancing the part, she wants to spend all of her time in the studio, which means she has none for me.

“Are you okay?” she asks, some of that excitement dying as she catches on to my mood. I try to shake it off, turning away from the packed duffel on my bed with the square, black box sitting on top of it.

“I’m good, Sunshine. I’m so proud of you. I know you’re going to do an amazing job.”

She sighs. “I’m really sorry I have to cancel again. I just?—”

“You don’t have to explain, and you don’t have to apologize. This is what you’re supposed to be doing, building your career, grabbing on to every opportunity.”

Leaving me behind.

The words pop into my head on their own. An unwelcome addition to thoughts that were already hard for me to lend my voice to. Not because I don’t mean them, because, of course, I do, but because it hurts to keep feeling like I’m getting lost in the shuffle.

“I miss you,” she breathes, and my eyes fall shut at the severity in her tone when she delivers the words. “I miss you so much it hurts. This is so much harder than I thought it would be.”

“I know, baby, but we can do hard things, can’t we?”

Trying to encourage her when all I want to do is wallow in my own sorrow is a feat. A test of strength I find myself having to take more often than I’d like to these days. I knew this wasn’t going to be easy, living over ten hours apart, never seeing each other, barely talking, and rarely being able to video chat, but I didn’t think it would be this fucking hard.

“Yeah,” she says, the small bit of confirmation drowned out by the abrupt melody of voices that signal the arrival of her roommates and their friends. They’ll want to celebrate with her, take her out to dinner, snag cheap bottles of wine, and sneak them into the studio so they can make sure she knows every step and turn.

“You should go,” I tell her, my heart aching as I prepare to say goodbye.

“What? No, this is the first time we’ve talked all day.”

“I know. You can call me back when you get home from celebrating with your friends.”

“Will you wait up for me?” she asks, her tone half regret, half excitement.

“Of course I will,” I promise, even though I know that no matter how long I stay up, she won’t remember to call. “I love you, Sunshine.”

“I love you too, Hunter.”

The line goes dead, and I turn back to my bed, pushing out sharp, even breaths to try and soothe the ache in my chest that’s always with me in Rae’s absence. I move over to the bed and begin to unpack, picking up the black box on top of my bag first. Despite knowing that looking at the piece of jewelry inside will only make the pain in my chest worse, I pop it open and brush a thumb over the gold band and sunbursts of diamonds I emptied out my savings for.

I planned to give it to Rae this weekend, to get down on one knee and ask her for forever, to tell her that I was willing to do whatever I needed to do to have that with her—sell the gym, the house, and my land, move to New York and get three different jobs just to afford the outlandish rent in whatever borough she felt most comfortable. But now, it’s going into my sock drawer, set aside the same way I’ve been, hoping that one day soon, it’ll get a chance to come back out.

---