Page 53 of Loving London

Outside, I stumble toward the side of the building, thankful it’s shaded from the hot California sun. My back against the building’s brick exterior, I crumble to the ground in a heap of sobs.

In an instant, the strong, independent woman I’ve worked so hard to be dissolves, and I’m just a heartbroken girl, crying for everything she’s lost.

Seeing Loïc up on that stage—the real standing, breathing, talking Loïc—is something I can’t wrap my mind around. Since he left, I’d simply close my eyes, and he would be there. He never truly left me. Yet seeing him in the flesh is more powerful than I can handle.

“London?”

I lift my face from my knees and quickly scramble to my feet, hastily wiping under my eyes. I take in a few calming breaths.

“I thought I saw you leaving the auditorium. I can’t believe it’s…you.” He stumbles on his words.

He’s here, right in front of me. My love. My Loïc.

I love him. God, I love him.

I’ve missed him with a tangible ache every single minute since he left that December morning, twenty months ago.

His deep blue eyes scan me from my feet to my head as I simultaneously take stock of him. He looks the same yet so different somehow. I notice some scarring on his right arm and the side of his neck. There’s some evidence of old wounds on the side of his cheek, but someone who hadn’t known Loïc before, the way I did, wouldn’t even notice them.

But I know every inch of his skin. Memories of Loïc have kept me going for so long. I’ve imagined running my palm along his cheek and down his chest—just feeling his warmth in every way possible—every day since he left. My dreams of him, both when I’m awake and asleep, have sustained my aching heart.

I’ve loved every part of Loïc. I still do.

“Hi,” I say weakly. There are so many things I want to tell him, and now is my chance, but I don’t even know where to start.

“Hi.” He grins, and my heart nearly falls out of my chest.

His smile is genuinely happy. His eyes shine with what seems to be joy to see me. He’s in his military uniform, and he is truly the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

It’s reminiscent of the first time I saw him in uniform at the charity car wash, which seems like a lifetime ago. Except I can tell he’s not the same man who pulled up in that dirty truck way back then. I’m nowhere near the same girl I was then either.

“How are you?” he asks.

I let out a forced laugh as my hand gestures from my head to my feet. “I’ve obviously been better.”

I can’t take it anymore. His proximity is maddening.

“Can I please hug you?” I blurt out.

“Yeah.”

He takes a step toward me, and I throw my arms around him.

Being in physical contact with Loïc again sends my senses into overdrive. It’s completely overwhelming. My tears start falling again, and there’s no hope in stopping them. So, I let them fall onto Loïc’s uniform, and I hug him tighter.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers into my hair. His arms pull me in tighter.

“I’m sorry,” I sob into his chest. “I’m so sorry.”

The two of us stand in this embrace for some time. I’m in no hurry to release him because I don’t know if I’ll ever get to hold him again. I’m committing the feeling of his body against mine to memory.

Eventually, when my tears have run dry, I drop my arms and take a step back.

“I don’t know what to say,” I admit, my entire body feeling tired and heavy.

With a thoughtful expression, he asks, “Are you happy?”

“Yeah. Are you?”

---