Page 62 of A Man To Remember
This thing we've built together that feels more real than anything I've ever experienced.
I help him stack the cases by the door, each one feeling heavier than it should. These pieces of equipment have been constants in my life for weeks now. I know which lens he uses for close-ups, which lights he prefers for dramatic shadows, how long it takes him to set up each configuration.
Soon they'll be in boxes on a plane, flying away from me.
Soon he'll be in a seat on that same plane.
"Jesse." His voice cuts through my spiral, gentle but concerned. "You okay? You look like you're about to cry."
Am I? I touch my cheek and find it dry, but my throat feels thick and my eyes are burning like I've been staring at the sun.
"Come home with me," I say, the words tumbling out without pause. "Just... one more time. Please."
He stops moving and looks at me. I drop my gaze to the floor, the familiar intensity in his eyes suddenly too much.
"You have to," I continue, my voice getting smaller with each word, more fragile. "You have to."
CHAPTER 21
AUSTIN
"YOU HAVE TO," he says it again, and then again, each time just a little bit more desperate. A little bit more raw.
And I let him.
I could answer immediately. I could cut this misery the second it comes up. I could tell him that from here on out, whatever he asks of me the answer will always beyes.
I don't.
Maybe it's a little sadistic. Maybe there's still some residual part of me that remembers being eighteen and desperate and getting nothing in return. Some small, ugly corner of my heart that wants him to feel a fraction of what I felt all those years ago.
So I let him suffer for all of fifteen seconds, watching his face crumple as he waits for my answer, watching hope and terror war in his expression.
After that, the need is gone. Completely evaporated, like it was never there in the first place.
No more urge to punish him. No more desire for cosmic justice. Just love, pure and overwhelming and absolutely certain.
"Why?" I ask and try to hide the smirk that tugs at my lips. "Are you breaking up with me?"
"Never," he whispers, and the word comes out broken.
I step in closer and take his face in my hands, thumbs brushing away tears that have started falling. His skin is warm, slightly flushed, and I can feel the rapid flutter of his pulse beneath my fingers.
"I need to tell you something," I say, and his whole body tenses like he's bracing for impact. "It's good news," I add quickly. "I promise."
He nods and manages a sad smile.
"There's this gallery downtown. It's small and not particularly prestigious, but the owners seem nice. They're interested in exhibiting my work."
Jesse blinks, processing the words like they're in a foreign language. "They... what?"
"A gallery downtown," I repeat. "We've been talking for the past week."
"They confirmed?" The question comes out small, like he's afraid to hope.
"Not yet. We're meeting next week to discuss details." I smile, watching understanding slowly dawn on his face. "But it's real, Jesse."
"What if they don't?" He's still afraid to believe it, still protecting himself from disappointment. "What if they change their minds?"
