by Kilby Blades
But she didn’t know what would be good enough for her now. More intense than the knowledge that she would miss him was the desperation to believe that this wouldn’t be the end. She didn’t want to believe that a single word they’d agreed upon nearly a year before could so thoroughly eliminate the thing they’d built. But she had no idea how closely he would stick to the plan.
She wasn’t stupid. She knew that he cared for her in ways that had nothing to do with sex. Friendship was a concept Michael didn’t take lightly, and no matter how it ended, she would still have some place in his life. She knew that he wouldn’t be ending this if he wasn’t being transferred. She knew he would miss her. What she needed to know now was what it cost him to let her go.
It doesn’t matter, she kept repeating to herself as she slogged through her shift. He’s leaving and finding out the truth would achieve nothing. There’s no point in fucking things up now when we’ve got a shot at ending up as good friends.
That was what she told herself as she got dressed that night in a pretty black maxi dress Michael liked and a pair of sandals. That’s what she replayed, on a loop in her head, as she packed a small bag. That’s what told herself as she slid her room key into a special elevator slot that would take her to one of the hotel’s private floors. She almost had herself convinced. Then she opened the hotel suite door.
The room was bursting with color, so much so that it took her a long moment to make sense of what she was seeing. Yellows and oranges, purples and whites, and every color on the spectrum of red to pink covered every surface. Hundreds of blooms that grew like wisteria turned upright sprang out from dozens of vases. They adorned the large suite's every surface, and their fragrance, a bit reminiscent of bubble gum, permeated the large living room. A lump formed in her throat, not only at the fact Michael had done all this for her, had made her the object of such a grand gesture. But at the unmistakable meaning of the flowers themselves.
“Snapdragons.” She closed her eyes as she said the word quietly to herself. Her bags slipped from her fingers and a tear slipped from her eyes. It was tragedy and perfection, all at the same time.
She opened her eyes when she sensed him. He had appeared from deeper within the suite, had possibly emerged from the master bedroom. He walked toward her slowly, appraising her reaction, a storm of emotions rolling across his eyes.
“When do you leave?” she asked.
“Tomorrow,” he replied roughly approaching her with a bit of caution. “How did you find out?”
“Andrew…he didn’t mean to tell me. He thought I knew.”
At that, he looked remorseful, but she shook her head, sniffling.
“It’s better like this,” and she knew he’d know what she meant. “So we have tonight?” she asked softly, as he finally reached her, nodding as he took her hands, intertwining their fingers.
“I missed you when I was gone.”
He had never before spoken those words to her.
“I missed you too.”
“I miss you every time I go.”
“So do I.”
They slept an hour past dawn, having spent the better part of the night intertwined with one another in bed. Darby hadn’t spoken much, and neither had he. As they made love, so slowly, so desperately, she was sure that her body told him what she wouldn’t dare to say out loud. As intense as it had felt in the moment, she still doubted what it was to him, not completely sure whether he had given her what she needed simply because she needed it, or because he needed it too.
She awoke to the sensation of him kissing her hair, and snuggled more deeply into him, her nose burying into the light tuft of hair on his chest to better-inhale his scent. She wondered how long he’d been up. They lay like that for a long time, each knowing the other was awake, neither of them speaking. As she had done the day before, she debated how to say to him the things she wanted—maybe needed—him to know. Things that could only be said before everything changed.
“Nobody has ever stood up for me to my father like you did,” she whispered finally. “I never thanked you for that.”
Michael kissed her forehead again and stroked her hair for a languid moment.
“Like I said, he had it coming.”
“Huck, too,” she continued, on a roll, as if Michael hadn’t spoken. “You ruined a man’s career for me.”
He stopped stroking her hair then and tipped her chin up to force her to look at him.
“You’re worth sticking up for, Darby,” he said with a bit of fire. “How does somebody as smart as you not know that?”
She lowered her eyes but he tipped her chin up again.
“I told you. My inner circle is small but there’s not much I wouldn’t do for the people in it. You’re in my inner circle. You have been for a long time. Me moving to Sydney isn’t going to change that, so you can stop saying your goodbyes, Darby. This isn’t goodbye. You’re stuck with me.”
His voice was firm, but his hands and eyes were soft, and by the time he finished, his palm was cupping her cheek.
“I guess there are worse people to be stuck with,” she conceded, her voice tearing up a bit at his declaration.
Too soon, they were sharing a silent cab ride back to her house. There had been more love making back at the hotel. In the shower, back in bed, after breakfast, after lunch. Every part of her was sore, but she didn’t care. She’d taken everything he’d been willing to give, and maybe a little bit more.
He got out of the car with her, helped her inside her house, and took her hand as he led her to her sofa. He kissed her again, until the last minute he could. By the time she had to be ready for work, he’d be at O’Hare, passing through security. She had realized at some point that the two short days he’d come back to Chicago had been only for her.
And then the moment came, both of them standing by her front door, he with his leather jacket and the same small duffel she’d seen him with two dozen times before. He couldn't stop kissing her. She couldn't stop letting him. He might miss his plane. She wished he would.
“You don’t have to wait until January to visit,” he said finally. At some point that day, they’d talked about her coming then. “You’re welcome in my house whenever you want. Show up on my doorstep any time. And I don’t care about the time difference, Darby. I want to hear your voice. If you need me, call.”
“Of course I’ll call,” she sniffled. “You’re my best friend, Michael. Who else would even listen to all my shit?”
He hugged her fiercely, whispered something she couldn't hear at the very same moment that he pressed something small into her hand. She didn't know how long she stood alone in her rotunda, didn't make a conscious decision to blow off work, didn't hear the loud sounds of her wracking sobs after she’d crawled into bed. She was sure that he had seen tears shining in her eyes as they had stood at her door, but she saved the real tears for after he left.
She didn't remember sleeping or waking up, only startling to realize that the butterfly that had entered her consciousness was neither a memory nor a dream. It was the drawing from Michael's apartment—the stunning teal and chartreuse-winged creature she had admired a hundred times. And it was hanging over her mantel.
The rendering was exquisite. The wings seemed to shimmer, as if diamond dust and silver had been infused into the paint. It made the room feel complete. The gesture would have been perfect if it hadn't felt so much like goodbye.
Thank you for reading Snapdragon, the first book in the Love Conquers None duet. The final book, called Chrysalis, picks up where Snapdragon left off and is told from Michael’s point of view. For a sneak peek at Chrysalis, head to www.kilbyblades.com. Want to ask me about my books, or just say hello? Drop me a note at [email protected]!
Writing a book is one thing. Seeing it come together is another. Maintaining a sense of sanity and well-being while you’re doing it is a third. A huge thanks to my pro team, Tasha, Sabrina, Carrie, Kerri, Stacey and Jada for helping Snapdragon come together.
Another one to Nicole, Leslie and Rose for making sure I didn’t fall apart.
A high profile business executive by day, and a writer of smart contemporary fiction by night, Kilby earned her MBA from one of the nation’s top business schools and currently serves as Chief Marketing Officer for a celebrated start-up. She juggles a busy business career while also raising two sons with her husband. Before Snapdragon, her first romance novel, she wrote fan fiction for ten years and earned herself a readership of over one million.
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