Page 83 of A Quick Stop in Paradise

“Brooklyn…” I whispered her name softly as I pulled away, holding her against me. “I’m glad it’s you,” I said. “That you’re here. That I’m here.” I paused. “Not to get sentimental.”

She laughed, but when she cracked her eyes, she didn’t quite look at me. “I’m glad I’m here, too,” she said softly.

“You know, it’s…” I swallowed. “It’s going to be hard on Sunday.”

Brooklyn stiffened in my arms. I shouldn’t have said it—we hadn’t directly mentioned it, not really, since we’d started this… whatever this was, but I couldn’t help it. I should have taken it back, but I didn’t. Hung in the silence waiting for what she would say, and she finally said, in an airy tone, looking just past me, “It is. But I’m just focusing on the here and now.”

I sighed, pulling myself away, just enough to sit next to her, picking up my coffee and cradling it close to my face. “Brooklyn?”

“Mm?”

“Don’t you get lonely?”

She let out a quiet snort, looking away, pulling one knee up into her chest. “You’d be surprised the kinds of things people can get used to.”

“Areyou used to it?”

She smiled thinly my way. “Journalists with the hard-hitting questions.”

I raised my eyebrows, letting the silence press her. She looked away with a sigh.

“Yeah, it still hurts to say goodbye to someone I like. But every life has its moments that hurt. A happy life doesn’t mean being happy all the time. You know that, don’t you? You’ve seen people with all kinds of lives.”

“I have. But… most of them want something different. Most of them want better.”

She shrugged. “I’ve lucked out. Gotten what I want, and now I’m happy.”

I studied her through an achingly long quiet before I said, softly, “So you wouldn’t change it, if you could.”

She shrugged, not saying anything. I sighed, standing up.

“I think I could use a little fresh air. A bit of a walk behind the house.”

She kept her gaze on the floor as I stood up, and the bitter feeling bit in my chest as I walked to the door, but she spoke, quietly, once I pushed the door open.

“I’ll go with you,” she said. “If that’s okay.”

I paused, not looking back at her. “You don’t have to, if you want a little alone time.”

I heard her stand up, and her footsteps came closer until—my breath caught at the feeling of her pressing up against my back, wrapping her arms around me, and she kissed my neck softly, burying her face against me. “Ryan, you know I feel the same way about you.”

A knot formed in my throat, and I gripped the door tighter. I tried to stay firm, but my body melted back into Brooklyn’s soft touch. “I mean… we’ve been pretty clear with how we’ve felt.”

“There’s no need to be coy right now,” she laughed softly, breath tickling my neck. “You don’t want this to end. I don’t either. But you’re not moving here, and I’m not moving away either. It’s not that I don’t feel the same way, it’s just… I know how this ends. And I don’t want to think about it.”

I swallowed hard, closing my eyes, and I heard my voice wobble when I spoke. “How do you do it to yourself?” I breathed. “I couldn’t imagine doing this over and over…”

She clutched tighter against me, fingers slipping up under my shirt, her touch soft and tender against my skin. “Not to sound corny,” she murmured, “but… it doesn’t normally feel like this.”

I snorted, letting my eyes flutter shut as she held me against her. “You probably say that to everyone,” I laughed softly, and she gripped me tighter.

“You’re a difficult one. I was trying not to even kiss you, but you’ve been hard to resist…” She kissed my neck again, lingering longer, softer this time. “Sunday is going to be miserable. So I’d really rather not think about it.”

“I could… come back,” I said, my voice thin, knowing I wasn’t supposed to be saying any of this. “Like that person who came back to visit you regularly, and you…”

She squeezed me. “If you do,” she murmured, “then you can come back here. See me. Do this again. But until then… don’t make promises.”

I laughed thinly, weakly. “You really do like me, huh?”

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