Page 98 of Free to Breathe
Leaning forward to brush my lips against his, I whisper, “Please?”
He returns my kiss, turning my insides out and making me forget my own name within minutes. By the time I remember my name, we’re on I-84 eastbound and Colby’s plying me with nonalcoholic champagne, strawberries, and cheese to distract me from looking out the tinted windows.
Otherwise, I’d have known where we were going in a heartbeat.
* * *
Two hours later,we’re pulling up in front of a building. I’m stiff from sitting so long. Colby places his hand on my arm. “Before you jump out, I want to talk with you.”
“Okay,” I say slowly, reclining back in my seat.
“It started here for me, right outside this door in a room on the third floor. A girl with incredibly long hair and a shy smile walked into the room, and I felt the punch right here.” He lays his hand on his stomach.
My pulse quickens. I start to look out the window, but Colby snags my chin with one hand. “The more time I spent with that girl, the punch moved from here to here.” He takes my hand and puts it over his heart.
“I want to build new memories tonight over the ones that were so tainted, Corinna. I want to go upstairs and be with the woman I loved then, the woman I never stopped loving, the woman I love now, and erase the final ghosts from our pasts before we move on to our future.” He releases me so suddenly my body flounders a bit. “I want to dance with you in a room where we laughed until we cried. I want to hold you where you trusted me with your deepest secrets. I want to love your body where I dreamed of touching every inch of it with mine. And then I want to do it all over again.”
I sure as hell hope Em used waterproof makeup as my eyes are leaking so many tears, I can’t catch them all. I can’t respond verbally because of the lump in my throat. So, I do the next best thing.
I launch myself at him.
“I love you,” I sob. “I love you so much.”
“That,” he murmurs into my neck, “is just how I feel about you.”
After holding me for a few more moments, he shifts. “The surprises aren’t over.” Colby leans forward to rap on the window. The driver turns off the vehicle. Coming around to Colby’s side, the driver waits for him to slide out before offering me a hand. Stepping onto the sidewalk, I look up at my old off-campus apartment with a mixture of fondness and amazement.
“Come on, baby. Let’s go inside.”
Tucking my hand back into his arm, he escorts me in.
I am in no way prepared for what I see next.
“Oh my God.”
50
Corinna
It’s me. It’s him. It’s us.
We’re everywhere.
Big. Small. Black and white. Captured in photographs. We’re together.
Like we always should have been.
The room is lit only by small Christmas lights. The light casts just enough light to guide the way. It’s like my hope—there’s just enough to keep me alive. But Colby is looking further ahead than I am. He’s getting me to glimpse our future beyond the tomorrow that may never come.
Colby ushers me farther into the tiny apartment I shared in college with Ali and Holly so he can close the door behind us. “Take your time looking around, princess. I’ll be right back.” Dropping a kiss on my shoulder, he leaves me to wander amidst our memories. Soon, music starts playing and the wet hits my eyes.
I’m lost in love over this man.
I stop in front of a picture of me and Colby that Holly must have taken when I was a freshman and he was a junior. If I remember correctly, a five-pound bag of flour had just exploded all over the kitchen. It had gone everywhere within a good eight-foot radius, with me being right in the middle of the blast zone. I study the picture now with a woman’s eyes. Colby’s expression as he brushes flour off my face while I’m laughing up at him causes my heart to clutch in my chest.
Ten years later.
“I think that was the first time I realized I was falling for you,” his deep voice says from behind me. A cool champagne flute slides over the base of my neck and over my tattoo. “I never forgot what it felt like at that moment to know you were everything, and the likelihood of us was next to nothing.” Handing me the flute, he assures me, “It’s nonalcoholic.”
