“Yes.”
His fingertips close around each of my hipbones and he pulls me down hard against him. He makes his come sound that I love so much because it always has my name behind it. “Ooh, Laurelyn.”
I feel him twitch inside me and I know he has just filled me with a part of him.
When he releases my hips, I collapse against his chest and his arms wrap around me. “God, I’m going to miss you.”
And there they are. My walking papers. I no longer hold out hope he will ask me to stay, and I feel the tears. Thank God I turned off the bathroom light when I came out so it’s dark and he can’t see me. And I won’t see the love he doesn’t feel when he’s holding me.
I feel the stream slide down my cheek.
“What is that?” He slides his hand between us and feels the wetness. “Are you crying?”
“No.” Yes.
“You are crying. What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” He slides up in the bed, although I’m on top of him. I feel him reach for the lamp on the nightstand, but I grab his hand to stop him.
“No. I’m not hurt. I’m fine.” Yes, I’m hurt but not the way you think.
I lace my fingers through his so he won’t try again to turn on the lamp. I don’t want to attempt to explain this.
He doesn’t say anything else about it and neither do I. I spend the next two hours lying next to Jack Henry with my head against his chest. I’m listening to his heartbeat—another thing I’ll never hear again.
He kisses the top of my head. “Mmm. I’m going to be late if I don’t get ready for work. I’d hate to get fired.”
“Yeah, that’s a mean ol’ mister you work for,” I laugh, but even I hear how phony I sound.
The sun is up and I watch Jack Henry walk naked to the bathroom. Damn, I’m definitely going to miss seeing that every morning.
When he’s ready for work, he comes over to kiss me like he has every morning that I’ve been in his bed, but this time is different. “I’ll see you this afternoon, baby.”
I kiss him like it will be the last time I ever see him. Because it is. I clutch him in my arms. This is our last kiss. Our last embrace. Our last everything.
“You’re squeezing me like this is it.” Can he read my mind? Sometimes I wonder. He kisses my forehead. “Are you sure everything is okay?”
I nod because I’m so unstable. I’m about to burst into tears and I have to keep it together just a little bit longer.
“I’ll try to come in early so we can do something special tonight.”
This is it. Here it comes.
I watch Jack walk out of my life forever as he leaves the bedroom. And that’s when it all sinks in. We’re over. Forever.
46
Jack McLachlan
At twelve o’clock, I decide to call it a day because I’m getting nothing accomplished. All I can think about is Laurelyn and how she’s going to walk out of my life tomorrow. It’s all I’ve thought of for a week since I heard her say that she loved me.
This has been the shortest three months of my life. My chest quite literally aches with the thought of never seeing her again. We agreed on three months, and our time together is up. I promised her the time of her life, but I’ll be damned if she didn’t turn it around on me. I’m the one who had the best three months of my life, and there’s no hope for ever topping it.
I love her too much to let her leave and I need to tell her right this minute.
“Harold, I’m taking the rest of the day off.”
“Yes, sir. Have a good afternoon.”
Within minutes, I’m at the house and Mrs. Porcelli greets me in the kitchen. “Mr. McLachlan, would you care for some lunch?”
“Has Laurelyn had lunch yet?”
She looks peculiar. “She left this morning not long after you went to work.”
She didn’t say anything about needing to go into town. “Did she say where she was going?”
Mrs. Porcelli hesitates. “She told me she was going home. I thought it was strange you weren’t going to the airport with her, but I didn’t think it was my place to question it.”
No. She’s wrong. That can’t be right.
“Laurelyn!” I run toward the bedroom and nothing seems out of place, but it’s too clean and in order. Laurelyn isn’t this organized. Something of hers is always tossed on the chair in the corner, but it’s free of clutter. I open the top drawer of the chest where she keeps her intimates and find it empty.
Please, don’t let her have left me.
I go to the closet and everything hanging there belongs to me.
Why have you done this, Laurelyn?
I take my phone out of my pocket and dial her number. I hear my personalized ringtone and I follow the sound. I find her phone next to her Martin on the coffee table in the living room. There’s an envelope lying next to it with my name written in her handwriting.
This is bad. Very bad.
I hold the envelope without breaking the seal. She’s gone and she left this ink on paper here in her place. These are her final words to me. I open it and remove the folded paper.
My beautiful Jack Henry,
This has been coming for three months and I’m no better prepared for it today than I was when we met. If anything, I’m less prepared. I didn’t love you the day I met you, or even a month later. But somewhere between hello and the goodbye I’m unable to bear, I fell desperately in love with you.
I know you don’t feel the same. That’s why I told you I was leaving tomorrow instead of today. I couldn’t bear to say goodbye and see how little you were affected by watching me walk out of your life forever. Because it is forever. I promised I wouldn’t contact you and I won’t.
You kept your promise to me. This has been the best three months of my life and I’ll never be able to top it. You made my every fantasy come true and that includes finding the love of my life. Now, it’s my turn to keep my promise.
I love you, Jack Henry, with every fiber of my being. Forever.
Laurelyn
Your American girl
No! I thought I had more time to tell her, but she’s gone. She’s really gone.
And then it strikes me that she might not be. Her plane might not have left. When she wrote the letter, she expected me to find it hours later.
I race toward the garage. I get into the Sunset and drive faster than what’s deemed safe toward the Wagga Wagga Airport.
I arrive in record time and don’t attempt to find a parking spot. I abandon my car at the front entrance. To hell with it. They can tow it.