24. Mik

CHAPTER 24

MIK

My stomach aches when I wake up to light peeking through the blinds and the bed empty next to me. I'd heard Jason get up and go into the bathroom, but I fell back asleep, assured that the alarm clock hadn't gone off yet. I thought he was coming back.

Lifting my head, I see the clock says it's just after six in the morning. Fuck. His flight leaves soon. Another pang of worry clenches my stomach and chest.

This is okay. I'll see him in a couple of days, and then we'll have to deal with long distance for a little while. We can handle this. We have to handle this. We're adults who have jobs and responsibilities. I have a family. I can't just run away with him. There are affairs I need to put in order first. It's the right, mature decision. Being apart for a little while doesn't mean we'll be apart forever. He's not going to go back to his life and realize he doesn't need the drama of my impending divorce holding him back. The physical space between us doesn't mean anything will change. I'm not so pathetic that I can't give us both a little space to arrange our lives. I can handle this.

A note on the bedside table catches my attention. It's Jason's messy scrawl on the back of a sheet of paper, showing that the room is paid for through the weekend.

Mik,

I don't want to wake you. You're sleeping so peacefully, but really, I'm worried that I won't be able to walk away if you're awake. There's a part of me that's afraid of walking away from this again. That maybe you'll change your mind, or something else will happen to keep us apart. But I need to give you space to work out things here, and trust that what we have is enough.

Unlike last time, I'm going to make sure you know this—I love you, Mik. I always have, and I always will.

We'll be together again soon.

Jason

I surge to my feet, looking around wildly for my things. Haphazardly throwing some clothes on and stuffing the rest of my stuff into the duffle, I run out of the room with my shoes untied, looking as disheveled as I feel.

I can't do this.

The drive to the airport is only ten minutes. I leave my car in the extended parking lot, not caring how much it's going to cost me. I barely flinch when the man at the airline desk quotes a price for a standby ticket to London. He almost doesn't sell it to me at all, considering the flight is already boarding and I still have to go through security.

"The love of my life is getting on that plane, and I can't let him go without me. Not again," I say, emotion clogging my throat. I know I probably look unhinged. I haven't combed my hair or brushed my teeth. My clothes are rumpled and untucked. My shoes aren't even tied.

Whatever the attendant sees when he looks at me, he decides to take pity. Once I've handed over my passport and credit card and assured him I don't have any bags to check—I forgot my duffle bag in the car in my hurry to get inside—he escorts me through security, allowing me to bypass the line. Wishing me luck, he leaves me in the hands of a security guard, who runs my shoes, phone and wallet through a scanner and has me step through an x-ray machine. I have to go through twice and get patted down when I forget to take my keys out of my pocket and am questioned about the various piercings lighting up the machine. After I shove my feet back into my shoes, I grab the rest of my things and start running as I hear the final boarding call for Jason's flight.

By the time I weave through all the people, nearly tripping over a small child that runs into my path, I'm red faced and out of breath. The terminal is empty, and I have to double check the gate number. It's correct, but there's no one here. Heart beating furiously, I notice a young woman in an airline uniform walking through the terminal door, the heavy metal shutting loudly behind her.

"Wait, please! I'm sorry I'm late. I had trouble getting through security. But I'm here," I say breathlessly, holding up my ticket.

She looks at me with concern and pity. "I'm so sorry, sir, the doors are already closed and air locked. I can't even get through there."

"Is there someone you can call? Can you get them to open the doors? I desperately need on that plane."

"It's out of my hands, I'm sorry. But if you want to come over here, I can see about getting your ticket moved to another flight."

I follow her despondently over to the desk while I watch the plane pull out of the terminal. The farther it moves away, the more my gut cramps. I barely even register the bad news when she tells me there isn't another flight to London until later tonight. There's nothing I can do here.

He's gone.

The exhaustion and emotion of the last half hour hits me all at once as I'm walking away from the terminal and into the airport. I walk out through the meeting area, where people are jumping into each other's arms and welcoming their loved one's home.

I know it's going to be okay. We understand each other this time, and this separation is going to be short. Once we work through our respective obstacles, we'll be together again.

It's going to be okay. I just don't want to be without him. I don't want to go through one more day of this life without him right beside me. I'm feeling weighed down by how fucking sad I am. My legs are heavy, and I'm so tired. I'll probably head back to the hotel to sleep it off before I'll be ready to face Janel.

It's too bright and hot outside when the doors to the airport open. It takes several moments of blinking before my eyes adjust, and then several more to believe what I'm looking at.

Jason is standing next to a rideshare sign on the far side of the terminal drop off area, looking down at his phone. He's probably fifty or more feet away from me, and people are milling about between us. I call out for him, but he doesn't hear me.

My phone vibrates in my hand. Looking down at it, I see several messages from him pop up onto the screen. I bump into people as I make my way to where he's standing.

Jason: Are you awake?

Jason: Don't leave the hotel yet.

Jason: I can't leave without you .

Ahead of me, Jason crosses the street towards a car that just pulled up.

"Jason!" I shout his name as loudly as possible. It's not until my third frantic cry that a group of three teenage boys start screaming his name, too.

He spins around in confusion, looking at the teenagers that are pointing my way excitedly. There are several cars passing, not pausing at the crosswalk. I shout his name again and dodge cars as I cross to the other side. His face contorts into one of shock when he finally sees me. Then he drops his bag to run towards me.

When we meet in the middle, he throws his arms around me and pulls me tightly against him. I'm shaking with adrenaline and overwhelming emotions, but I feel something in my soul settle the moment I have him in my arms. Before either of us can get a word out, his mouth meets mine. He sucks the breath from me with his kiss.

We only pull away from each other when we realize we have an audience, many of whom are cheering. The teenagers that helped me get his attention are whistling and whooping loudly. One of them shouts, "Get some!" and it seems like a good time to calm down before we cause more of a scene.

"What are you doing here?" Jason asks breathlessly.

"I couldn't let you go without me. But I missed the flight by minutes. What are you doing here?"

"I couldn't leave without you," he says, feigning a casual shrug. Then he smiles at me, those bright blue eyes putting the summer sky to shame.

"I love you, Mik Sanders. I'm not going anywhere without you ever again."