by Claire Raye
I suck in a hard breath as it takes everything in me not to throw myself in his arms or scream at him or start sobbing again. I’m a fucked up mess right now.
“Do you want a drink?” I ask without turning around, heading straight into the kitchen.
“Sure,” he says and his voice melts through me. Everything he does brings back a memory, a feeling, the desire to be near him, but at the same time, I’m completely terrified.
“Beer?” I respond shakily, my voice failing me and giving away exactly how I’m feeling.
“Yeah, that would be great,” he answers back and I catch the nervousness in his voice this time. It hangs on his words, as if he’s struggling as much as I am.
I linger longer in the kitchen than necessary, bending down and letting the cool air from the refrigerator clear my head. Despite the shock of the air, my head remains clouded, if anything I’m worse than I was before. Having him in my house, knowing he’s standing in the other room, has my entire body fighting to gain control. Each part of me is at war with another. My heart is yelling at me to run to him, throw myself in his arms, but my head is telling me to be sensible.
What if he’s married? Has a girlfriend?
He was never mine and he still isn’t and to think that we can just fall into a relationship, be in love, live happily ever after is unreasonable, but there’s a reason he found me. There’s a reason he’s stayed with me for thirteen years. And there’s a reason things happened the way they did so long ago.
When I return to the living room, Elliot is standing holding my book with a small smile on his face.
“That’s my book,” I respond, but it comes out harshly as if I don’t want him to have it and his smile falls.
“I was hoping you could sign it,” he says and again there’s a nervous quality to his tone.
“You came here for me to sign your book?” I question and my voice fails to gain control. I’m suddenly angry, upset for believing he would be here only to find me. My mind forces me to believe there are other reasons for his sudden arrival.
“Of course not, Nora,” he says, setting the book down on my coffee table and walking over to where I’m standing. “It’s the reason I found you.”
He reaches for me, his hand finding its way to my hip and resting gently before his fingers grip it tightly. He swallows hard and I feel my skin heat up, a slow burn, starting where his hand is resting and flooding my face, making me flush.
“You read it?” I ask, knowing it isn’t exactly the kind of book a man would gravitate toward.
“I did, but I didn’t need to. I read the back cover and knew it was our story immediately.”
I freeze when he says “our story”. His words stop me from speaking and I fall weak again. While it is our story, I never thought he’d ever read it or would refer to it as something that belongs to us.
I’ve run through more emotions in the last thirty minutes than I think I have in my entire life. I’m sobbing, I’m angry, I’m terrified, yet I want him to take me in his arms. I want him to remind me what it feels like to be in that moment, to live like I did thirteen years ago.
“Nora,” he says, his voice a hushed whisper as if he doesn’t want to disturb the quiet. “I don’t know where we go from here, but you’re visibly upset.” I can see the confusion in his eyes.
I don’t know how to respond, but I know I need to find my voice, because I’ve literally said nothing about his presence, only a few simple words spoken.
“I’m sorry,” I instantly declare, unsure of what I’m apologizing for. Not being able to find him, for leaving all those years ago without saying goodbye, for my reaction to him currently or maybe it’s for all those things?
When he steps closer, I find myself closing the distance between us and falling into his arms. Cradled against the warmth of his firm chest, his smell a reminder of everything I’ve missed and everything I still want.
I think I’m still in disbelief as I try to take in a deep breath and my chest tightens, my thoughts scrambling to catch up and speak everything I’ve wanted to say. Now that the opportunity is here, I’m silent and scared.
“I looked for you for twelve years,” I stutter out. “I didn’t want to quit…” I stop there, the crying starting up again.
“You don’t need to defend yourself,” Elliot says. “If anyone understands, it’s me.” I feel Elliot’s lips brush my hair and then rest on the top of my head. The simplicity of his gesture comforts me, and in return makes me understand he’s the only other person in the world who can empathize with our situation.
My arms slip gently around his waist as his arms encircle my body, pulling me closer. We stand for what feels like forever, wrapped in each other’s arms just waiting for time to pass by, to ease some of the pain that has consumed us for all these years.
“I don’t even know where to begin,” I eventually say. Do I share with him my obsessive need to find him? How I traveled the country each year in search of him? Or does it all make me seem desperate and crazy? “Did you look for me?”
“Every day of every month of every year. I never stopped, Nora,” he says, his words a crushing blow as if all the air from my lungs is being released. Breathing is nearly impossible.
I’m not sure what hurts worse, the fact that I gave up or the fact that he didn’t. And all along he was just as desperate to find me.
“Stop,” he says calmly as if he can read my thoughts. “This isn’t about you giving up. It’s about us finally finding each other. Can’t you see that? It doesn’t matter that you decided to stop looking for me. What matters is I found you. I found you just like I did thirteen years ago.”
“Elliot,” I pause as I swallow back the tears. “I didn’t want to quit, but it began to consume my life. I missed you so much it hurt. But it was like you weren’t real. No one understood and I began to feel like I was losing control.”
We separate, but my body yells out in protest, craving the touch of his hands, needing to be close to him. And that’s when he steps toward me again, his hand cradling the back of my neck, his other hand on my cheek as he leans in and kisses me softly. His lips press against mine and I feel the tears begin to fall once again.
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Elliot
Her body is pressed against mine and it feels like a dream. The room is warm and as my lips touch hers it feels like home, like this is where I was always meant to be. I can’t let go of her and I’m basking in the easy silence and the ease of the way her body folds into mine, fitting perfectly. The tears are falling from her eyes and I pull back kissing her cheeks and her neck as she moves closer to me until there isn’t even a breath of air between us.
We stand together, our bodies as one and Nora cries into my shirt and I let her. I’m just as confused by this fucked up situation as she is and if anyone understands her need to cry it’s me. This is what we’ve both been waiting for, longing for and now that’s it here neither of us have any idea what to do or say.
Nora lets out a stuttered cry and takes a ragged breath in what I assume is an attempt to calm herself. Her hands are on my chest and her head is resting between them so I kiss the top of her head hoping it helps her settle down.
When I boarded my plane today I was overcome with a sense of completeness, and after all these years I’ve never once regretted meeting Nora at that party. It was like fate had whispered in my ear, like it saw the future and regardless of how things will ultimately turn out, I was meant to meet Nora. Seeing her face today only reaffirms that.
As Nora begins to calm down I quietly say, “Why don’t we sit down,” as I guide her over to the couch. My hands have yet to leave her body and right now my hand is resting on the small of her back.
We sit down and I hand her the beer she placed on the coffee table and she takes a long drink before setting it back down. She turns to look at me, as if she has a million questions but doesn’t know where to begin.
“You don’t have to say anything,” I tell her.
“I can go or I can stay. It’s up to you.” The last thing I want to do is disrupt her life or cause her any stress. The way things ended between us and the way we’ve spent the last twelve years has caused both of us enough turmoil.
“I don’t want you to go,” she says and she reaches for my hand as if the constant contact makes this far more real. I want to tell her I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay forever if she wants me to. “And I didn’t want to go then either,” she admits and I know exactly what she’s talking about.
“Why did you?” I ask, not trying to pry for answers but needing them. I think we both do even if it’s just for the purpose of closure.
“My plane was leaving. I was late and my sister called screaming at me. I had no idea what time it was or where you went. I waited, I looked for you, but I couldn’t find you. I didn’t have much time and I panicked and left,” Nora says, but her words come out in a forced rush and she starts to cry again.
“It’s okay. I would’ve done the same thing,” I say as I rest my free hand on her knee and Nora moves closer to me.
“Elliot, I’m sorry.” I’m waiting for her to tell me she’s married, she has a boyfriend, that we were never meant to be and whatever we had all those years ago was a fluke.
“Why?”
“Because I ran off. I left you on that beach wondering where I went and then all these years have passed with nothing. I should’ve stayed. I never should’ve left.”
“Nora, stop. It’s okay, seriously,” I assert, making sure she knows I don’t blame her for any of this. “We found each other again and that’s all that matters.”
By now she’s once again pressed against my body and I wrap my arm around her shoulders pulling her closer. The room is gripped with silence all over, the sound of our breathing, melodic and in time together is all that consumes it.
“Sometimes there is more said through silence than you can ever say with words,” Nora whispers against my chest, her warm breath floating through my shirt and my heart practically stops in my chest at her words. It brings me back to that day on the beach when I realized I wanted nothing else in the world than the girl sitting next to me. I never thought I would fall in love with someone I barely knew but I did, and as I sit here with her, I realize I’m still in love with her.
I thought I loved Bridgitte, but what I felt for her has nothing on the intensity and pull I feel with Nora. There have been moments when I felt like my heart might explode in my chest and she makes it hard to breathe. My fingers tingle when I touch her, like they’re on fire, a burning sensation I never want to end. And I’ve felt all of this in just this short amount of time I’ve spent with her.
“Sometimes we’re given choices, but there’s no choice in them at all,” I respond hoping she understands she made the only choice she had at the time and now she will always be my only choice.
“Do you have someone at home?” she asks with some hesitation in her voice and I feel her breathe out in relief when I answer no.
“You?” I ask back almost certain I know the answer to my question. I saw her with someone just a few short weeks ago, someone she was clearly in a relationship with.
“No,” she says quietly and then looks up at me. Every time I see her face, her beautiful brown eyes and the perfectness of her features, she takes my breath away. I’m stunned for a few seconds, each time wanting to kiss her and tell her how beautiful she is.
“But I saw you with someone,” I admit and immediately regret it. I’m not sure how it’s going to come across. I’m concerned she’s going to think I’ve been stalking her, watching her like some creepy fucking weirdo.
“What do you mean?” she asks pulling away from me, but she still doesn’t seem bothered by my comment. She’s more confused than anything.
“I came to find you a few weeks ago and I saw you outside your apartment with another guy—”
“It was you,” she states with shock in her voice, interrupting me. “I thought I saw you outside my apartment, but…” She trails off but then picks back up again quickly. “Why did you leave? Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you come back?” The more she questions, the more I hear the panic set in in her voice. Her nervousness grows palpable and I can practically feel it radiating from her. She thinks she did something wrong and I watch her demeanor change as she slips further away from me.
“I left because you were happy,” I say but it doesn’t seem to ease her fears. I reach for her hand, threading her fingers with mine. “Nora, I know what it’s like to look for someone for so long and to completely disrupt your life. I saw that you were happy and had moved on. I couldn’t ruin that for you. I saw that you didn’t need me anymore, regardless of if I needed you.”
“I did need you. I still do,” she practically shouts, but even as she says it, we both know how strange it sounds. How can this possibly work? It’s been thirteen years and we’ve created lives of our own that don’t include each other. Is this something we’re both willing to give up?
The thought lingers in my head and after all this time I know how fucked up it is to question it. This is what we’ve both wanted obviously, but how logical is it really?
“Where do we go from here?” I ask her, my hand still holding hers and her eyes still focused on my face.
“I don’t know, but right now, I know I don’t want you to leave,” she responds, this time a small smile forming on her perfect lips.
Still needing an answer because I have to be sure, I ask, “So is he…” I stop short, not knowing exactly how to word it without it coming across desperate or intrusive. Without a word Nora shakes her head and I feel a sudden release of relief wash over me. I had no idea how much the thought of her being in a relationship was still affecting me.
As much as I tried to convince myself she didn’t belong to me, I’ve always felt a sense of ownership over her, like she will always be mine. And now knowing she’s not with someone, I’m finding an overwhelming need to make things work between us, that I want to see where this will go.
“I tried to make it work,” she says seemingly out of nowhere and I need no explanation of what she’s talking about. “I couldn’t though. It always came back to you.”
I smile at her words. It feels good to know I haven’t been the only one.
“Same here,” I tell her and she cocks her head to the side as if she’s questioning me and I realize we know basically nothing about each other’s lives. We’re strangers.
“I was engaged, but I couldn’t do it. Every second thought I had was you, you were my every thought,” I say. “I was more in love with you than I ever was with her and we were together for years.”
“It’s hard to explain that you fell in love with someone you barely knew,” Nora adds and I nod my head in response. “But I did and I still am. Seeing you now, having you here with me and as emotional as I am, I want this, Elliot. I want to make this work.”
Her declaration is sudden and I’m caught slightly off guard because this is not the response I expected. Honestly, I had no idea what to expect, but after searching for all these years, how can we just walk away from each other now? How can we not try to make this work?
“Me too.”
“When do you have to leave?” Nora asks me, her eyes still shiny with tears, but behind them there is hope, hope that this isn’t just a dead end.
“I haven’t booked a return flight yet,” I admit and a part of me feels like a fucking idiot for being so confident. I almost look away from her, but her face lights up and as her eyes crinkle in the corners, she smiles at me and it’s effortless.
“A return flight to San Diego?” she questions, her head cocked adorably to the side as I watch the memories come flooding back to her. I can see it on her face, an almost idealistic remembrance of what we were back then and what we had.
“No, I live in Chicago now,” I say and she shies away, the happiness of her memories of us fading quickly. I never realized how much stake we both put into
things remaining the same, and while I didn’t entirely expect Nora to be living in Boston when I found her, I truly couldn’t picture her life at all.
Maybe it was easier for her because we met where I lived. It was my home and there was the familiarity there, something she remembers as a place I felt comfortable or maybe her memory serves her well to picture me there.
Nora grows quiet, reserved even, but then, she says, “We really don’t know anything about each other, do we?” The way she says it isn’t negative, it’s like a declaration or reminder that maybe this won’t work, that maybe it’s all too much.
“That’s okay,” I reassure her. “We have nothing but time now. We could spend the entire night talking.” I smirk at her before I say, “Tell me everything. Your deepest fears, your biggest regrets, I want it all.”
Nora laughs and it’s like a song, perfect and beautiful, the most wonderful sound I have heard in years. It sounds exactly as it did the day I met her and it makes me weak. She’s the only girl I know who can make me feel this way and when I said those words to her all those years ago I meant them and I still mean it now.
“You’re a shithead,” she says and now it’s me who’s laughing. It’s un-fucking-believable how vivid my memory is with just a few words. I can recall almost everything she said to me that night and obviously she can, too.
“But you like me,” I tease back and this time she falls against my shoulder laughing and I wrap my arm around her. “So tell me, did you travel the world? See Amsterdam and London and all the other things you wanted to do?”
“No,” she says and I feel her softly shake her head as she lets out a long sigh. “I spent my time looking for you.”
As the words leave her mouth I feel my heart fucking shatter in my chest. Her arms are around my waist now and I can feel the warmth of her body against mine. I hate that she looked for me all that time, that she was alone and desperate to find me. I should’ve done more to find her.