Page 75 of Don't Take the Girl
"Two hundred and fifty-seven," he gives me more numbers, his voice carrying a little more strain. "That's how many minutes it's been since you kissed me."
My eyebrows shoot up. "Excuse me. It was you who kissed me. You're the one who pinned me against the pole, and it was you who leaned in."
"Relax, heartbreaker, I know who kissed who."
"Then why did you say that?"
"I just wanted to see if you were thinking about it too."
I press the phone closer to my ear and close my eyes. I've prayed for conversations like this one, where thoughts of wondering if he thought about me were answered, but now that I have them, I don't know what to do with them. The silence stretches between us like a physical thing, underscoring the years of separation.
"Are you okay?" he asks, the concern in his voice breaking something inside of me. After everything, he still cares. I may not know the details of why he made the choices he did, but I know they weren't made easily.
"It's late?—"
"I'm sorry about earlier…" My chest tightens painfully as I immediately assume the worst—he's sorry he kissed me. But then he says, "I couldn't drive you home. I only had my bike, and I would never be able to forgive myself if something happened to you."
"Is that all?" I swallow hard, leaving no stone unturned.
"I'm not sorry I kissed you. If anything, I'm sorry I waited this long." I pull in a stuttered breath that I'm sure he hears through the phone. "Laney…" He pauses, and I listen as he takes a quickened breath. "Can I give you another number?"
"Yeah," my voice cracks with emotion as I collect this moment, one that's literally been years in the making.
"Two thousand two hundred and twenty-one," he breathes out with a sigh that matches the immensity of the number.
"I never knew you had a thing for numbers," I say to knock the tension down enough so I can breathe.
"I don't. I have ayouthing. That's how many nights it's been since the last time you kissed me."
My eyelids flutter in sync with my heart. "You kept count all this time…" What feels like a million questions bombard me at once. If he kept count, he lived every day remembering, and if not a day has gone by where I didn't cross his mind, why subject himself to this? "Why?"
"It's complicated…but in short, I needed the reminder of what was threatening to kill me so that I could find the strength to continue walking down the path I chose." His voice catches. In the silence, I listen to the soft rhythm of his breathing through the phone.
"I don't understand," I say quietly, my fingers tighteningaround the phone as if I could somehow grasp the meaning hidden beneath his words.
"I know you don't…" he trails off with a ruffled sigh. There's a heaviness to it, and I wish he'd open up. I wish he'd stop carrying more than he can bear alone. "Can you meet me for coffee in the morning?"
I hesitate, but only for a second. "Yeah, I can do that."
"Okay." A sigh of what sounds like relief filters through, loosening something tight in my chest.
"Okay," I echo his resolve, the word somehow both a whisper and a promise.
"Hey, Laney..." He says my name like it's something precious.
"Yeah." I press the phone closer to my ear.
"I'm glad you called." It's only four simple words, but they are the exact ones I need to hear. I dialed his number for a reason: I needed to know if he thought of me the same way I thought of him and if there was any reason for me to hold on. And for the first time in a long time, tomorrow feels like it holds infinite possibilities.
"Goodnight, London."
"Goodnight, heartbreaker." The nickname slides through the receiver like a caress, stirring memories I've tried and failed to bury.
After I hang up and rise to my feet, standing motionless beside my window overlooking the stables, I press my forehead against the cool glass, my racing thoughts settling. Tomorrow brings no guarantees, just coffee and conversation with the one person who knows me better than I know myself. The one person who still calls me heartbreaker, as though I hold that power, when all along it was my own heart I couldn't protect.
I crawl into bed, pulling the covers up to my chin. Tomorrow waits on the other side of sleep. Whatever path we've chosen, whatever complicated truths the morning light will reveal, at least we'll face it together. Two people finding their way back to a conversation that never truly ended.
"I'm beginningto understand why you said no when I initially asked you to work with Gypsy," Madison says, flanking me on my left as she rides up on London's horse, Titan.
