Page 100 of Our Little Cliche
“You bloody smart ass. Yes. Her name is Susan, I know it was her.”
“Oh, Susan Kivert?”
“Wait, you know her?” Holly asks.
“Of course. That would have definitely been her, then. That’s Izzy’s mom.”
“Wait. So the person who found me a house to live in, is also the mother of my favorite author? No way! Really?”
“Yes.”
“Oh my god. I’m going to text her, maybe we could catch up bef?—”
My phone sings, cutting her off mid sentence. I swallow the dread. “It’s Quinn…”
Holly holds her hand over her mouth, equally as concerned.
“Shit.”This is it. This is the moment it all comes to an end.“Our flight isn’t until four. Go call Susan, have fun. I’ll take care of… this,” I add, gesturing to the incoming call.
“Okay.”
“Meet you in the lobby later?”
“Yep.”
It’s not quite two thirty when Holly returns from wherever she went, peeling off her beanie. “I was wondering whether or not I was going to have to send out the hunting hounds,” I laugh, then kiss her fondly on the forehead. My lips feel a crisp pinch of the chill of her skin from the cold outside. “How was it?”
“Oh, it was so great! I’ve missed her, she’s such a lovely lady. She gave me food, and clothes when I got to Banff, did you know? I might’ve already told you that. Anyway, I told hereverything. Her favorite part was when you freaked out over mebiting my lip. And she laughed when I said that you caught me when I fell down the library ladder.”
I titter, tappingconfirmon the Uber app for a run to the airport. “Yes, that was quite amusing. It’s one of the many reasons I love you, Holly. Wow, I can’t help feeling like that was… years ago.” The words come out in such disbelief.
Holly grabs her peach bag, pulling the handle bar upward and rolling it beside her. “It does feel like that, doesn’t it? Like we’ve known each other forever.”
“Maybe we were in love in our past life, picking up where we left off, but without memory. Maybe even the time before that.”
“And the time before that…”
“Mmm. And do you know what?” I say, totally smitten as we walk out—holding hands, in public—into the icy cold to wait for the car that’s only a few hundred meters away. When she shivers, I tuck her under my arm and wrap my jacket around her.
“What?”
“We will love each other even again in our next life. When you and I are gone, our souls will be together again, forever and always. Even across oceans we will find each other like we already have.”
“So poetic,” she teases.
“You bring it out in me. I’m so fucking in love with you it’s sickening.”
“I love you too, Cyrus.” The truth of that is in her eyes as she smiles up at me. But then the smile dims as she adds, “Wait, I almost forgot.”
I grin fondly.Of course she did. “Mmm?”
“The call…” she asks.
“It went exactly how we expected. Have you seen the paper today? Actually, social media might give you an idea of how it went.” I cock my eyebrow, amused with the images that have been all over the papers. Globally.
Us.
“No.” Her tone is laced with sorrow, quickly working out what might have happened. Two Riverton House employees locking tongues for New Year’s seemed to be a pretty career ending hot topic for all the headliners. As I expected. “Oh, Cyrus. I’m so sorry.” Her apology is genuine, and I know that it breaks her heart.
