When we finish talking about student unions and bars and campus libraries and all of the rest of it, I feel a little more anchored. Like all of this, talking with him is normal, like he's discussing my future with me because he's going to be part of it. Even if that isn't really true, it feels good.
And when he slips his hand along my shoulder to my neck, pulling me around to face him so that he can kiss me, I get this glimpse of something that shoots right down my spine. This impression of a future in which touching each other, kissing, talking about plans, is normal.
And the worst part is, it only makes me want that future all the more.
I don't know how I'm supposed to do all of this. Keep my head together over the next two days. But the good news is that when I'm with Oz, I feel like I can do just about anything. His calming influence makes me feel like I'm exactly where I should be, and it's hard to argue with that.
Especially when, instead of heading out somewhere for lunch or getting something from the kitchen, we end up falling into his bed, obliterating any other thoughts completely from my brain.
I spend the last two days of my trip at Oz's place, with all of my things moved over from the hotel and my reservation canceled, in kind of a daydream. I don't want to think about the fact that my time is almost up. Every time it comes into my head, I push it away.
When Oz asks me what time my flight is, I tell him I can't remember and I'll look it up later.
When he brings up the fact that I need to start packing, I brush it off, telling him I can do it in the morning before my flight.
When he asks me if I'm looking forward to going back home, I give him the briefest answer and then distract him by asking him if he'd like me to get him a drink while I go for a glass of water.
Anything to avoid talking about the thing I don't want to confront. The fact that all of this is almost over.
And then it comes. I wake up early in the morning, to the sound of an alarm going off. The first one I've heard the whole time I've been here. Oz and I usually just wake with the sun as it rises over the city when it finally reaches a high enough point to shine right through the windows and glint off our eyelids. But today, there is an alarm, which means there is a schedule and a deadline, and the prayer I uttered before I fell asleep didn't work.
Because I prayed that I would wake up and it would all be different, and I wouldn't have to leave, and I would be back right at the beginning of the week and ready to spend it all over with him again.
I lay still, for a long moment. Oz turns off the alarm and clears his throat, turning to look at me. But I remain still, my eyes closed, not moving, focused on keeping my breathing as steady as possible. Maybe if I just pretend to be asleep, I can sleep through all of this. Maybe he'll leave me here, let me miss my flight.
But he doesn't.
“Hey, beautiful,” he says, his voice soft even if still slightly rough with sleep.
“I'm sleeping,” I say stupidly, which definitely gives the game away.
He chuckles lightly, and I feel his hand brushing the side of my face. “You have to get up sooner or later,” he says. “You've got somewhere to be today, remember?”
“No,” I say, keeping my eyes shut tightly and deliberately rolling onto my side, putting my back to him. I know I'm acting like a child. Stubborn and dumb, like I'm having a tantrum. But my heart is breaking inside me, and I don't know how else to deal with it. I don't want to face reality. I don't want to face the fact that today is the last day I will wake up in his bed.
“Darling,” he says, kissing lightly at my neck. It makes me shudder the same way it always does, sending a bolt of desire right down into the pit of my stomach. How am I supposed to resist him when he does that?
“Don't,” I say, my voice cracking on the words.
“What is it?” he asks, going still immediately. His hand hovers slightly above my arm, lifting up from where he was touching me. His face remains just an inch from my neck, but no longer kissing.
And that breaks my heart, even more, knowing how much thought he puts into my needs. How eager he always is to make sure that I’m comfortable, that I enjoy what is happening. How if there is the slightest hint that I’m not, he will pull away, no matter how much he must want to continue.
“Please,” I say. “Just let me go back to sleep.”
“Are you tired?” he asks, his voice full of concern. “Didn't you sleep well last night? I think you can sleep in for a while, but not for too long, otherwise...”
“Let me sleep in forever,” I say, my voice coming out as a whine.
Oz sighs, his breath ghosting over my skin. “Why?” he asks. “Because you’re tired? Or because you don’t want today to happen?”
“I don't want to go home,” I say, the words breaking into tiny pieces in my throat. I hold back a sob. The last thing I want is to make things worse. He must already think so little of me from the way I'm acting.
But his arm comes around me, holding me, pulling me against his chest where I feel safe and warm. It's like he is cradling me. Not rebuking me. Not laughing at me.
“I don't want you to go either,” he says, and that broken heart of mine suddenly jolts back into place, all of the million pieces reforming into one whole.
“Do you mean that?” I ask, my hands covering his where he embraces me. I don't dare turn around and look at him just yet, not until I know for sure. I don't want to embarrass myself by letting him see the hope in my eyes, not if it's all a horrible joke. Not if he's about to say, but you have to.
“Of course, I mean it,” he says. “I've been dreading this day ever since the first moment we met. Only a week. It's not long enough. It wouldn't be long enough if you were here with me for a year or a lifetime. I don't want you to leave my side, ever.”
Something is stirring so painfully in my chest, yet so wonderful. A mixture of the greatest thrill and the greatest joy, like my heart is about to expand and burst. Now I do turn, shifting in his arms until I can face him, putting my hands to his chest and looking up into his face to see the truth there. “You want me to stay,” I say. Not really a question. A statement. A hope.
“I want you to stay forever,” he says, bending to kiss me on the forehead. The lightest kiss, the most chaste. But also so full of meaning. “Gabby, I love you.”
That swelling becomes impossible to bear, my chest surely expanding sixteen times just to contain the size of my heart now.
“I love you, too,” I whisper. I close my eyes as he kisses me again, so sweet and gentle, and it feels like the end of the world and the start of it all at once.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Oz
It's only when the two of us finally come down from the highest of highs, the epic joy that seems to cocoon us both now, that we both realize and acknowledge the elephant in the room.
Even if Gabby doesn’t get on her flight, it’s still going to leave. Which means that other people are going to expect her to be on it. And we need to deal with that expectation.
It's all well and good, the two of us staying here together in each other's arms. In our own chrysalis against the rest of the world, protected and preserved for as long as we can manage it. But the thing is, it won't be this way forever. There are other people out there. I have work, which won't wait any longer than I have already made it. She has her family, her friends back home. She has her college applications. All of these things won't come to an end just because we’ve decided to be together.
And there are other considerations, too. Visas. The question of where we would stay. Where we would live. As much as I love my penthouse, it's not exactly set up for family life. All of these questions, and more, need to be addressed, and the simple bubble of our happiness might end up bursting along with them.
But I won't allow that to happen. I have her in my arms now, I know that she’s mine, and there is no way I’m letting her go.
“What do we do now?” Gabby asks, echoing my own thoughts.
&nb
sp; “There is only one thing to do,” I say. “Make arrangements.”
“What does that mean?” she asks, frowning slightly.
“It means, my darling,” I say, kissing her forehead again. “We have to talk to other people about this. Starting with canceling your flight, so they aren't waiting for you to arrive. And from there, we can decide whether you are canceling it entirely or just rescheduling it for a later date. And once we've decided that, others need to know. The people who would be picking you up from the airport, for example.”
Gabby lets out a low gasp. “My dad,” she says. “He'll be expecting me.”
She looks at me, and in her eyes, I can read the same thought that haunts me. How are we going to explain this to him?
How am I going to tell my best friend that I’ve fallen in love with his daughter?
It would be bad enough if I was just some random stranger. Someone he had never heard of at all. The age gap between us would make anyone question, as would the speed at which we realized we were meant to be together. It's only been a week, and I can hear all of his objections in my head already.
But above and beyond all of that is the fact that we know each other. That he trusted me to look after his daughter while she was here, to make sure that she was safe and well and had everything she needed. I’m sure he will see this as a betrayal of his trust. Not only that, but all the times I saw her when she was growing up. It's not like I thought anything about her then. I barely even noticed her, just saw her as my friend's daughter. But I don't know if he will believe that.
I have to trust that he knows me well enough to know that my intentions have always been good. To understand that I never saw her as a woman until she was one. But that is a lot of trust to place in a person, even a person who has been your best friend for decades. It was our own college experience that brought us together, and Gabby hasn't even been through that phase of her life yet.
I can see how bad it's going to look. How angry he is going to be. But it doesn't change a thing. How could it change anything about how I feel about her? How could it stop me from loving her?
“We need to talk to him,” I say. “Sooner rather than later. It would be better if we could talk to him in person, sit him down and go through everything, but...”
“But in order to do that we would both have to go back,” Gabby says, finishing my thought. “And if we’re there, he might not allow me to leave again.”
“You really think he would do that?” I ask. I think about Dean. About all of the times, we've shared together. I don't know if he would really put his own daughter under house arrest. But then again, what do I know? I know him as a friend, not as a parent. And it's not like he's ever been in a situation like this before.
“I think he could,” Gabby says. “He wouldn't have to do it forcibly. He could just... guilt me. I love my family, I really do. I don't want to hurt them or let them down. As much as I love you as well, there are ways they could make me stay. Reasons that could make me want to stay. Or choose to, at least, even if it broke my heart. I'd rather break mine than someone else’s.”
“There's that, and the fact that time is of the essence. The sooner we tell him, the more truthful we're being,” I point out. “The last thing we want is for him to find out this has been going on for a really long time and he had no idea about it. Otherwise, I would suggest that we just play it cool, have you go to college in the fall here, ‘start’ a relationship then, but it would be untruthful.”
“And it would be too long to wait,” Gabby says, her eyes wide and full of emotion as she looks at me. “I don't want to be away from you for months. I can't. Especially not right now, at the beginning. I want to savor every moment of this.”
“As do I,” I say, tucking her hair behind her ears with one hand. “And not just from the beginning. I can't imagine a time in my life when I would ever wish to be apart from you again.”
“What, then?” she asks. “How do we do this? How do we do the honorable thing of telling him everything, and yet still honor him by telling him in the right way?”
“There’s only one option,” I say. “We video call him. Show him a united front, but also do him the courtesy of seeing him. Even if only virtually. We can’t be strangers to him, not right now. We can’t do it over an informal, impersonal call. The only way is to look him in the eyes, and with an ocean between us, video is the only option we have.”
Gabby nods, though I can see how afraid she is. It’s like she trusts me to carry this off. To make sure that everything works, that she doesn’t lose her relationship with her father in exchange for a relationship with me. It’s a lot of pressure.
And I have to step up, right now, and be the man who is worthy of that trust.
“Let’s call him.” I reach for my phone, scrolling to his number.
“Right now?” Gabby asks, almost in a panic.
I glance over at her. “Right. We should get dressed first. But otherwise, yes, right now. He’ll be waiting to hear from you, letting him know you’ve reached the airport. He’ll be awake and expecting a call. It has to be now.”
She bites her lip. “I know you’re right,” she says. “But I’m nervous.”
“Me, too,” I assure her, squeezing her hand. “But this is for us. For our future together.”
She takes a deep breath and nods. “Then I can do it. For our future together.”
We reconvene only a few minutes later, setting up the phone and propping it up on my coffee table so that we can both appear on the screen at the same time. I glance at her, turn to kiss her once for courage, and then press the call button before I can lose my nerve.
I’ve never felt like this before – this amount of pressure. No business deal, no interview, no appearance as a trade speaker has ever made me bat an eyelid or lose a drop of sweat. But here, now, it feels like everything is on the line.
And it is – because that’s what she is. Gabby. She’s everything.
The call connects, and after that brief awkward moment of the loading screen, Dean appears. He’s sitting in what looks like his own lounge, the lights low. It’s still early in the morning there or late, too early for the sun to have risen.
“Oz!” he exclaims, lifting a mug of probably coffee to his lips. Then his eyes spot Gabby, and he raises an eyebrow. “Oh, you found my daughter again, I see. Are you bringing her to the airport for me?”
“No, I’m not,” I say, facing him head-on. I don’t want to beat around the bush, even right now at the start of the conversation. It’s going to be so much easier if we just rip off the Band-Aid, so to speak.
“What, then?” he asks, frowning slightly. “Just wanted to say hi? Gabriella, shouldn’t you be heading for the airport right about now?”
“I’ve canceled my flight,” Gabby says. “For now, anyway.”
“You mean, rescheduled?” Dean asks.
“Canceled,” she repeats firmly. “Dad, I’m not coming home just yet. I don’t know if I’m coming home at all.”
“Why not?” he asks, frowning. I can see he doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get any of it, not yet.
I can see it crumbling in front of me. My dream. My future. But I’m not going to let it. I’m going to grab it with both hands and hold it together with everything I’ve got.
“I’m staying with Oz,” Gabby says simply, reaching for my hand.
The simple gesture sends my heart rate skyrocketing. I know he must be slowly starting to see it. Still in denial, but slowly starting to see us.
“The thing is, Dean, I’m in love with Gabby,” I say, needing to cut to the point of the matter. “I’m in love with her, and she’s going to stay with me.”
There’s a long pause.
A very, very long pause.
So long, in fact, that I wonder if Dean’s connection has cut out, if he’s frozen on the screen. But then he moves and I realize he’s not frozen. He’s just staring at us with an uncomprehending frown.
And then i
t happens.
His expression clears, he brightens and straightens up – and he starts to laugh.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Gabby
When I hear my dad start to laugh, it’s like a jolt to my system. I actually flinch slightly, it’s such a shock.
I can only blink at him as he laughs uproariously, even slapping his thigh.
“You really got me for a second,” he says. “So, what? Is the flight delayed or something?”
“No, Dad,” I say, feeling sick to my stomach. Does he really think we would joke about something like this? “We’re serious. I’m in love with Oz, and he’s in love with me. We’re together.”
Dad’s laughing slows down a little, trailing off. “No, you aren’t,” he says. “It’s a good effort, but I’m not falling for it. You’re trying to play a trick on an old man. Not fair, by the way. It’s the middle of the night here, and I’m not as on as I should be.”
“Dad, I’m serious,” I insist, knowing that the only way he’ll see is if I keep pressing forward. No – the only way he’ll see is if I show him. I pause, gathering my courage to do this. I look at Oz.
Then I lean forward and kiss him, full on the lips, and make it long and lingering. The kind of kiss that you couldn’t fake, not even for a prank. The kind of kiss that leaves no doubts as to whether it’s real or not.
The kind of kiss, apparently, that makes my father go bright red in the face.
“What the hell,” he growls. “Oz…?”
“I know this is going to be hard to accept,” Oz says, his words coming out in a rush like he thinks he needs to get it all out before my dad interrupts again. “I know it’s a lot. But please, just know this isn’t the kind of thing I take lightly. I’m serious about this – extremely serious. Gabby means everything to me. And, yes, it’s fast – but it’s real.”
“Fast?” Dad barks. “Fast? You’ve… she’s been there a week! What in the hell has been happening between you two?”
Love In London: A Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance Page 10