Deciding Tomorrow (32 page)

I peek around his shoulder. The closet is full with his clothes, and his empty suitcase sits in the corner.

“How long are you staying?” I ask.

“Forever,” he responds, not missing a beat.

There’s not even a question in his reply. There’s no debating his words.

“How? You have a scrimmage on Tuesday and next weekend, too.” I search his expressionless face. “What are you doing?”

“You’re the answer. I told you.” His hands cup my face. “I looked everywhere else, and I’ve learned from my mistakes. In the end, all that matters is that you’re with me. I don’t need anything but you. I’m taking away the distance, so it’s no longer an issue.”

“Brent…you can’t give up everything for me.”

“No, what I can’t give up is you.” His breath catches. “You’re the reason I live, Ruby—the reason my heart beats, my blood flows through my veins, and my lungs take in air. You’re the only reason I wake up every day. This”—he takes my hand and places it on his hard-thumping heart—“has no purpose without you. And neither do I. In order to thrive, all I need is the person standing right in front of me.”

“Are you serious?” I ask, tears escaping. “Are you really serious?”

“Yes.” His thumb brushes away the wetness drawing a line to my chin.

“I can’t let you do that,” I choke, slipping out of his arms and into the wide space of the apartment.

I turn to face him where he remains in the dressing area entrance, his hands hanging heavy.

“You can’t just quit everything. Do you know the kinds of things they were saying about you? Your talent? Your—”

“I don’t care!” Brent charges toward me and takes my face in his hands. His eyes are fierce and hungry. “You are not sending me away again. You don’t get to do that anymore! I’m not going to ask if you want me to stay.” His fingers curl into my hair. “You’re my entire life. I. Love. You.”

“I love you, too,” I stutter through all the bubbling emotions. “With everything I am.”

“Then, what are we talking about?”

His mouth is on mine before I can catch a breath. My fingers hastily explore his jaw, his neck, and his head of hair before finding their way to the hem of his shirt. There, they peek and flirt with the warm bare skin beneath, another point of remembrance and home.

His body is my home. His soul is where I reside. And his lips are the doorway to it all.

“Brent,” I breathe, trying to pull away.

“Stop.”

He shuts me up with his wicked tongue, rubbing and sucking my own. All I need is him. One touch, one kiss, and everything melts away. All the emptiness and worry, the hollow ache in my chest—they’re gone. I’m instantly revived, and my being is whole. There’s so much comfort and ease now that he’s here. My anxiety and dismay feel like they were all for nothing.

I press my body to his, and the warmth of his chest consumes me as he continues to slay me with his mouth. He knows what I need, and he came here to give it to me. He’s willing to give up everything for me.

My stomach caves with guilt.

I never asked for that.

I could never live with that.

“Just take me with you,” I implore against his jaw. “That’s all I want.”

“You’re not quitting school.”

I stop kissing him and step completely out of his arms. We hold one another’s gaze for a long time. It’s stretched out enough for me to realize the gravity of what he’s doing and what he’s proposing. There’s something romantic and beautiful in it, but it’s not practical. It’s fraught with future resentment.

“You can’t do this,” I tell him. “I love you and need you in so many ways, but I could never live with myself if you stay.”

“I don’t see it any other way. I’m not taking anything away from you. You made what you want clear.”

“I know, but…” I grunt, frustrated by the hand we’ve been dealt over and over again. It keeps us fighting for each other, yet still we remain apart. The obstacles we face are never-ending.

He takes a cautious step forward and then another. After one more, his arms are around my back. I tuck into his chest, and he rests his chin on my head. Our breaths work in rhythm, accompanying the beat of our hearts.

“What are we supposed to do?” he asks into my hair.

“I wish I knew.”

“You know, if you weren’t so stubborn, this would be a lot easier.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” I lift my chin, tilting my view toward him. “And if you weren’t so overly romantic and wonderful, this would be a lot easier, too.”

He smirks, shakes his head, and then tightens his embrace around me. “I’ll work on being a dick, if it will make things easier, of course.”

“Seriously, who flies across the country overnight on a whim and offers to give up his rising career just for some girl?”

He disengages his arms, walks toward the kitchen area, and then faces me, leaning his backside against the counter.

“This guy does,” he replies. “You’re not just some girl. You’re not even a girl. You’re the woman my whole world revolves around.”

“And my world is you.”

FORTY

“Are you going to miss me?” Brent asks, nose at my ear.

“Likely, but I doubt I’ll have time.”

“That’s true. We’ll be together again before you know it.”

“In just a few days.”

He kisses me hotly on the mouth and then exits out the door, pulling his suitcase behind him. At the steps, he turns around and waves. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Very soon.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

When he’s out of sight, I close the door and relish in the anticipation of what’s to come. I will see him again and soon.

We have a plan, and it’s one we’re both willing to work with.

Meandering through my apartment, it feels lighter but not empty. I walk into the dressing room, open the closet, and finger the garments Brent left behind—not because he forgot them, but because he’s coming back. I switch on the bathroom light, finding a small sense of peace at the sight of his toothbrush next to mine. These items live here now, and he does, too.

More importantly, he lives with me.

After talking about our options, we knew that neither one of us was going to budge on letting the other person give up on any dreams. In the end, the most important thing was that we were together. It didn’t matter where because our home was only with each other. The rest was just geography.

It is going to take some adjustments, but that’s how love goes. We are both prepared to give up everything for each other, so these tiny sacrifices are easy to accept.

Life is full of concessions when love is in the picture—especially a true, all-encompassing love like ours. Putting us first was the only thing we could agree on, so we compromised on the rest. It’s not ideal, but we get all that we want for ourselves and for each other.

Switching off the light, I venture into the main room of our apartment, letting my fingers graze the furniture full of memories from our new beginning. I think, in some ways, Brent’s subconscious had a plan when he bought these. He was putting up stakes in my space in more ways than one.

Taking a seat on the warm brown leather chair, I rest my computer on my lap and open the most recent email from Brent. I’ve read it a few times now. He sent it after we jointly made the arrangements together, and it still warms my heart. It’s full of our tomorrows, and there are many.

I’ll see you in San Jose in four days. I love you.

Below his note is an itinerary of flights for the next six weeks, some for him and some for me, spread three-to-five days apart. It’s not practical. It’s almost ridiculous. I don’t even allow myself to think about the cost. That was part of my concessions—to allow him to pay for it all. Brent was like a kid in a candy store with the freedom to give us everything. I never knew he was holding back so much, all because of me.

He’s not holding back anything now.

We’re in this together. We want the world for each other and with each other.

Love is patient, impractical, and sometimes hard. It has made us crazy at times and broken us into a million little pieces. It has healed us both, filling in the cracks created by our lives and our past, and welded us into a stronger, more permanent fixture. It has bound us together for what I now know will be forever because neither one of us will have it any other way.

THE DAY

Today is the day I’ve been working toward for the last two months. I’ve made all the arrangements, and after the game tonight, I’m telling Brent. It’s been difficult to keep this secret from him, especially with the entire behind-the-scenes steps I’ve been taking to wrap up my life in Chicago ahead of schedule.

Since that moment we made the decision to make us work no matter what, my heart has been at peace. We see each other weekly, if not more, and it’s been just enough to keep us moving forward with our relationship and with our lives—mine in Chicago and his in L.A.—that we began before coming back together as a couple. The balance might be difficult for some but not us. Loving him is easy.

Taking my seat next to Cohen, I tug my hat tightly over my ears to shield away the cool spring Chicago breeze blowing through the stadium. Brent’s team is playing an early-season game this afternoon against our local team, and his brother flew into town since it’s closer than many of the West Coast games. It’s good to see Cohen again. We caught up about a month ago in Salt Lake City at another one of Brent’s games.

“Hey, guys,” Mara says, plopping down next to me with pretzels and drinks in hand. “It’s too freaking cold for this.”

“Has New York made you soft?” I ask, taking one of the pretzels. “Or are you just bitchier?”

“Shit! I’m like a kitten compared to the lions out there.”

“I’m sure you fit in purr-fectly.”

“Cute, Rubes,” she replies. “Not clever or obvious at all.”

I shrug. “I wasn’t going for clever.”

She sits back, buttons up her jacket, and adjusts her gloves. Mara coming into town was my idea. Since she and Kenzie moved for Mara’s new job in New York, I haven’t seen Mara at all. I’m planning to make that leap and move to California in the next month. This might be the last time we can easily see each other, so she made the trip at my request. It’s almost a last good-bye.

Over the winter quarter, I made arrangements to finish my last and final classes for graduation remotely. My advisers have agreed to work with me as long as I come back to present my final projects at the end of spring quarter. I already made the preparations to sublet my apartment, and I have movers lined up to ship the two pieces of furniture that matter to us most out to California.

It’s my gift to Brent and to us to allow us to be together. While a traveling relationship has been fun and seeing Brent has been my world, this setup is not ideal.

Graduate school is still an option, but I won’t be going in Chicago. I’ve made my decision on that. I want to be with the person I love. I’m still waiting to hear from a school in California, but if that doesn’t come through, it’s not the end of the world. I have other options.

Ripping the pretzel in half, I place a bite in my mouth and then offer the rest to Cohen, who is patiently watching the empty field.

“When does the game start?” Mara asks, being conversational.

“In about half an hour,” Cohen replies. “They should be taking the field soon.”

“Awesome. Bring on the testosterone.”

Cohen gives her a sarcastic look and then returns his focus to the sea of green. The stadium rapidly fills with excited fans ready for the players to take the field. The volume in the stands becomes a blanket of white noise as more and more people take their seats.

A few moments later, the local team takes one side of the field, warming up and running some drills. At about the same time, Brent’s team comes into view on the opposite end, mimicking similar movements and maneuvers. I’m really eager for the game to start and to watch the man I love. His performance seems to get better with every game I attend. Him giving up a soccer career truly would have broken my heart. This is where he belongs. It’s easy to see.

I search for the familiar form and number that I’ve been watching for months from a similar position.

“Where is he?” Mara questions. “Which one?”

“He’s number eleven.” I squint, searching the players, but I can’t find him. “I don’t see him.” Leaning into Cohen’s space, I ask, “Do you see him?”

“No, I don’t,” he says.

“I wonder where he is. I hope everything’s okay.”

“I’m sure it is,” he reassures me.

Someone taps me on my left shoulder. Startled, I quickly whip my head toward the sensation. A dark-haired man with bright blue eyes rests a finger at my back.

“Cody?” I say, completely confused. “What are you doing here?”

“Helping you find him.”

“Find who?”

“Brent,” he says, smiling.

“Wait? What?”

Lifting his hand, he points toward the aisle. I hesitantly follow the direction of his gesture to where Brent is sitting two rows up from us just across the walkway. Hidden among the crowd, he’s almost unrecognizable in plain clothes, not his uniform, and a ball cap.

Our eyes meet, and he knows I’ve seen him. One side of his mouth turns up, igniting that flirty dimple that drew me to him so many years ago, and he rises from his seat. Taking a few steps down, he stops at the end of our row, right next to Mara.

“Brent? Why aren’t you on the field?” I ask.

He extends his hand. Without question, I place mine in his and shuffle over Mara to join him in the walkway.

“What’s going on?” I ask in a lower tone.

He takes off his cap, drops it at his feet, and kisses me on the forehead. Without even saying a word, Brent lowers to the ground, taking a knee. My heart pounds into my ears, thumping and slamming a wild combination of feelings all at once—happiness, shock, excitement, nervousness, pure joy. His expression is so powerful and overwhelming. I steal a glassy glance toward Mara. She smiles widely.
She knew.