FORTY-SEVEN ARABELLA

FORTY-SEVEN

Arabella

THE WEEK FLIES by in a whirlwind of turning in final projects, studying for tests, dividing up my things and boxing the items that I’m sending to my parents’ apartment in Manhattan—their suggestion—and I finish packing my belongings that I’m taking with me to Paris. My mother has been in constant contact with me, which is unheard of. Telling me the flat she’s found for me to live in isn’t too far from the atelier, within walking distance. She’s texted me my work schedule and some of the names of the people I’ll be working with.

Maurice is her point of contact at the jeweler. He’s one of the creative directors and has worked there for years. She speaks of him often and fondly, and I can only hope that I’ll like him too. More importantly—I hope that he’ll like me.

If I’m not preparing to leave or studying for finals, I’m with Rowan. We spend every free moment together and I’m so grateful for this time with him. I just want to feel connected to him. Revel in his love and affection for as long as possible, before it’s taken away from me. Though I suppose I only have myself to blame for all of it. I’m the one who’s leaving. If I wanted to stay, I could. But it’s too late now. I’m committed. I must go through with this. I refuse to live my life with what ifs looming over my head. What if I’d never gone to Paris? What then?

For once, my mother did something for me. I have to take the opportunity she gave me. She may not tell me she loves me often, if ever, but this is a sign of her love for her child. I know it is.

By the time it’s Friday morning, my last scheduled final is for first period. Statistics. Mrs. Guthrie’s class. I haven’t seen her this week and I put all of my effort into my outfit just for her. The second I enter the classroom, I spot her sitting behind her desk, her gaze on the door, on me. Like she was waiting for my appearance.

I hope I didn’t disappoint.

“Arabella! There you are!” She starts to laugh, shaking her head. “Oh … my.”

I stand there proud in front of the rows of desks, doing a little curtsy, holding out the ends of my uniform skirt as I dip down. I’m wearing my white button-down but I left the last few buttons undone so I could knot the ends together just above my navel, showing off my belly. I’ve got a cropped gray cardigan on over it, and sheer white knee socks, along with my new favorite Dior loafers on my feet. My hair is done in two braids and I’ve got my standard black-framed glasses on. It’s not too outrageous of an outfit, but I’m hoping she can guess who I’m emulating.

“This reminds me of something,” Mrs. Guthrie says, tapping her index finger against her pursed lips as she studies me. “I’ve seen this look before.”

“Go on,” I encourage, nodding.

She stands there for a second, her gaze narrowing before she snaps her fingers, pointing at me. “Britney Spears from her ‘Hit me Baby One More Time’ video.”

“You’re right!” I’m laughing. So is she.

“Oh, Arabella.” Her laughter dies and she’s shaking her head. “I’m going to miss you.”

My heart hurts at the sincerity I hear in her voice. “I’m going to miss you too.” I hesitate. “Are you going to write me up?”

“No! Of course not.” Her voice softens. “It’s your last day here. Why would I get you in trouble? There’s no point.”

Her response leaves me feeling a little defeated. I sort of wanted to strut into the headmaster’s office and get a lecture. It’s been a long time and I wanted to finish attending Lancaster Prep on a high note, but I suppose Mrs. Guthrie is right. Why write me up when I’m leaving?

And seriously, only I would think it would be fun getting written up and sent to the headmaster’s office. Something is wrong with me. I think it’s that constant need to seek attention—even if it’s bad—that I have in me. Yes, I’m aware of it. Yes, I rarely acknowledge it, but I know it’s there. Maybe I don’t feel that way as much anymore because I have Rowan giving me all the attention I need.

“Are you excited to be going to Paris?” Mrs. Guthrie asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Yes. Definitely.” I nod, going for enthusiasm. “I can’t wait. It’s going to be such a wonderful experience, I know it.”

“I remember when you used to sell your jewelry in the dining hall during lunch. I bought a bracelet from you.”

“You did?” I frown, trying to remember. That was so long ago. Beginning of my freshman year, when I was looking for friends any way I could. Selling jewelry was one way to bring people to me as a conversation starter. It’s how I became friends with Simone. Hadley helped me sometimes, always talking up my jewelry designs to anyone who would listen.

I’m going to miss my friends.

“Definitely. Everyone on staff was impressed with your work, but then you sort of … stopped.” Mrs. Guthrie holds her arm out and pulls up her sleeve, showing off the delicate gold chain bracelet around her wrist. “I’m wearing it in honor of your last day.”

I go to her and check out the bracelet, vaguely recognizing it. There are blue stones on it in various shades, and the way I set them gives it an ombre effect. It’s pretty. I can see why she was drawn to it. Mrs. Guthrie likes to wear blue.

“Thank you for supporting me back then,” I tell her.

“You’re easy to support—we’ve all adored having you in class, Arabella. Even if you test my patience with your outlandish outfits.” Her smile is kind. “Are you ready for the final?”

I stand up straight, snapping my heels together and giving her a salute. “As ready as I can be.”

We both laugh and suddenly, the hairs on the back of my neck rise. Glancing over my shoulder, I watch as Rowan slips into the room, a smile appearing on his face when he catches me staring.

My heart aches, full of love for him. And longing. So much longing. I’m already mourning the loss of him and it hasn’t even happened yet, but it’s happening soon. He’s taking me to the airport right after we finish school, and I know I’m going to break down and sob like a giant baby when I have to leave him. I don’t want to do it.

But I will. I have to.

Even if leaving him will shatter my heart into a million pieces.

T HE DRIVE to the airport is long and mostly silent, me nervously clinging to his hand when I can, which is for most of the ride there. He doesn’t say much because I think he knows that words are useless. We’ve already discussed this moment many times. He knows my feelings. I know his. We don’t want this to be over, but there’s a tiny part of me that recognizes it already is. The moment I’m gone, our future is uncertain. Or more like, our future is over.

There’s no point.

But for now, I’m clinging to him like he’s my lifeline, and he’s indulging me. I appreciate his kindness. His love for me. I never believed this moment would be possible, but here I am, in Rowan Lancaster’s car, somewhat secure that this boy—this man—loves me.

Until he won’t anymore. And that’s not his fault. I won’t be here. I gain his love only to leave him. This isn’t his fault.

It’s all mine.

We arrive at the airport and we’re at the point where he has the option to park his car and walk me in or drop me off at the departure section. “You sure you don’t want me to go with you into the airport?”

“No.” I am shaking my head on repeat. I will fall apart if he does that. Bad enough that I have to leave him at his car in front of all the harried travelers desperate to get inside as fast as possible. I’m flying first class and have TSA Precheck. The lines are usually a breeze for me and we’re here early enough. I almost wish we were late. That would give me more time with him. “I can do this.”

His gaze softens. “I never said you couldn’t do this. I just thought you might want me there.”

“I appreciate you.” I pat his firm thigh, thinking of last night. We had sex and I cried afterward, which is pitiful, but I couldn’t help myself. It was the last time. Everything just feels so damn final and I hate it.

Hate it.

He eventually pulls the car to the curb and cuts the engine before he gets out. I follow after him, grabbing my carry-on from the back seat of his car while he grabs my suitcases from the trunk. How he fit them in there, I’m still not sure, but I’m not going to question him. I just stand there on the edge of the curb, my travel backpack slung over my shoulder and the carry-on at my feet.

“Have a porter help you.” He nods toward the airline employees standing behind the counter outside who are checking in people’s luggage. “You can’t carry all of this.”

“I can manage.” I nod, pressing my lips together so I don’t say something stupid. Like, take me back to Lancaster Prep now, please .

I can’t do that. I need to be strong.

“I have something for you.” He pulls a small box out of his jacket pocket, handing it to me.

“You didn’t need to get me a gift.” I take the box from him, frowning when I see the words written on top of the box in his familiar script.

Keep me in your heart.

“Open it,” he says, his voice gruff.

I lift the lid to see there’s a dark blue velvet jewelry box inside. And when I pop it open, it’s my heart locket nestled within.

“Oh my God,” I whisper, lifting my gaze to his. “I meant to ask you if you ever found this a week ago and I just … I forgot.”

I was too distracted by him that I forgot about my necklace completely. When he had it all along, like it was meant to be.

“I was surprised you never brought it up. I found it that night of the party.” He flicks his chin at me. “Open the locket.”

With trembling fingers, I crack it open to find tiny photos of the two of us in each frame. One is from my birthday party at his parents’ house that someone must’ve taken of us and another one is a selfie we just took a few nights ago, when we were lying on his bed together, our heads close, our smiles genuine. Though he’s not looking at the camera.

He’s looking at me.

And all the love that’s shining in his eyes makes the tears fall from my eyes, one after the other.

“Oh, Rowan.” I am crying. Hard. “I love it.”

“Fuck, Bells.” He crushes me to his chest, his mouth on my temple. “Don’t cry, baby. It’ll be all right.”

I sob into the front of his shirt. “I just—I don’t want to leave you.”

“You have to.” He pulls away slightly, cupping my face. “Wear the locket and don’t forget me, okay? I know you’re going to be busy, but we can FaceTime and catch up every night.”

“You’ll be busy too. We’ll be on different time zones. I don’t know—” I press my lips together, unable to finish my sentence.

I don’t know if this is going to work.

That’s what I wanted to say, but I don’t. Why put doubt into this moment? It’s already there, lingering around us like a cloud, but to say it out loud makes it real. And that’s something I can’t face right now.

“Let me put it on you.” He takes the box from me and pulls the necklace out. I can tell it’s a new chain, gold and shimmery in the sunlight because of course the weather is wonderful today. Like a reminder that I’m about to go to gloomy, rainy Paris. The weather is for shit there currently and has been for the last week. “Turn around.”

I offer my back to him and he drapes the necklace around me, clasping it together. I touch the locket, rub my fingers across the etched front, my heart feeling like it’s going to burst. Whirling around, I face him, throwing my arms around his neck and holding on to him with all my might. “I love it. I love you. Thank you.”

“Don’t ever take it off,” he says fiercely.

“I won’t. I promise.”

“I love you, Bells. So fucking much.” He pulls away from me slightly and kisses me right there in front of everyone. A long, intense, tongue-filled kiss that makes it even more difficult for me to break away. But I do.

I have to.

“Don’t cry,” he demands but it’s too late. “Come on. I’ll help you with your luggage.”

He’s about to take the heaviest suitcase for me but a man wearing an airport police uniform approaches him. “Sir, you can’t leave your car at the curb. You have to move it.”

“She needs help with her luggage,” Row protests, but the officer shakes his head.

“Those are the rules. And I can help her.” The officer takes my luggage from Rowan while I stand there, helpless. “Ready, miss?”

I look at Rowan, seeing the sadness filling his green eyes, and I fling myself at him one last time, hugging him tight, rising up on my tiptoes so I can whisper in his ear. “I love you. I’ll miss you.”

“Text me,” he says, his arms wrapped tightly around my waist. “Let me know your flight took off on time.”

“I will.” I keep my gaze trained on his face, desperate to memorize every single feature. Every little flaw and characteristic that makes him look like that. He is perfect. And he was mine. But now, I’m afraid …

He isn’t mine anymore.

“And text me when you land in Paris.” He runs a hand along the side of my head, fingers streaking through my hair. “I need to know you’re safe.”

“Okay. I’ll keep you updated. Promise.”

One last kiss, our lips lingering and finally I pull away. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

“Bye, Bells.” His voice is a harsh whisper and I swear his eyes are glassy with unshed tears. For me.

Seeing that makes me want to bawl like a baby, but a newfound thread of strength curls through me, and I stand taller, straightening my shoulders.

“Bye, Rowan.” It hurts to speak. Hurts more to keep looking at him and I turn away, smiling at the officer who’s been waiting patiently for me. As if he knew how rough this goodbye was for us.

I tell myself not to look back. It’ll only break my heart even more but like the sadist that I am, I finally glance over my shoulder to find Rowan standing there, leaning against his car, watching me go. He lifts his hand up in a silent wave and I do the same, quickly turning forward, telling myself I need to focus on my future.

Without Rowan.