Page 61 of Crazy In Love (Love & War #2)

FOX

I was supposed to have another week in Chris’ bed.

Turns out, I’d already slept for the last time cradled in his arms, and I didn’t even know it.

I’d dozed with my cheek on his chest, and I had no clue it would be the last.

I was oblivious to the fact that the last time we stood in the bookstore apartment—me in a pretty dress and him in a handsome suit—would be the last time we’d be there together .

I had no clue the last meal we shared on his porch would be our last . And damn it, I didn’t know the last time—the first time—he would ask me to dance in public, would be the only .

I hate the things we were robbed of, and I hate even more that he’s as toxically wounded as I am because instead of looking into my eyes and spending my final eighteen hours in Plainview with me, he chose avoidance.

He stayed inside his house with his drapes closed, and his doors locked, and when Alana invited him to her home for Sunday breakfast before my newly scheduled flight, he chose to decline.

He chose for us.

He chose Rome.

And now my time is up.

I stride through JFK airport at an almost jog, sneakers wrapped around my feet and my carry-on luggage trailing in my wake.

I wear headphones in my ears, so my hands remain clear.

Making my way toward the luggage carousel, I search every screen, every line of information, every flight number until I find mine.

“You arrived safely?” Unimpressed and uninterested in hiding the scorn in her voice, Alana bounces her baby to sleep on the other end of the line, patting the squeaking infant, and walking laps of her living room.

Or bedroom.

Or maybe even the dock stretching across the lake outside her house.

I’m not sure where she is, but I picture every detail as easily as if I was right there with her.

Jesus, I never thought I’d see the day when I longed for Plainview.

“Your flight was delayed taking off,” she grumbles. “But you got there pretty quick.”

“Yeah, there was a good tailwind or something.” I pause by carousel number 3 and drag my carry-on to a stop by my thigh, my purse nestled on top and my phone tossed haphazardly inside, and because life enjoys smashing me in the face with lemons, I feel the tug of something sticky on the bottom of my shoe.

Frowning, I lean on my carry-on and lift my foot, only to find gum stuck to the sole.

A little more, tacked against the floor.

“Ew.” Stubbed toes. Spilled coffee. Gum.

Great! I dig through my purse in search of a napkin.

A wet wipe. Literally anything to save me from losing my damn mind.

I’ve returned to the greatest city in the world. This is supposed to be a happy occasion, dammit.

“I stepped in gum,” I grunt, sweeping the contents of my purse from side to side. “Who the hell drops gum inside an airport?”

“Pigs, mostly. Maybe that’s a sign you should come back to Plainview.”

With a victorious explosion of air, I find a single-wipe sachet in the bottom of my bag, so I yank it out and tear the packet open.

Then, I balance on one foot and clean up the mess some other jackoff created.

“I stepped in gum in Plainview, too, just so we’re on the same page.

I’m pretty sure I shattered my little toe on the corner of your dresser.

I lost my lucky pen. Oh, and I got my heart broken.

” I roll my eyes. “I assure you, this is probably not the sign you think it is. How are things back there?”

“Awful. I used to have this best friend— you might know her —she committed to visiting me for six weeks. But I guess that was a lie.”

“Alana—”

“She said she would run my shop while I recovered from childbirth. Ya know, the life-altering, life-risking situation where a woman brings a whole other human into the world? Yeah. I did that. But then this alleged friend quit. Without warning . Pretty unprofessional, if you ask me. ”

“Alana!”

“Plainview is a little less beautiful today. The sky, a little grayer.”

“Good lord, William Shakespeare. Chill out.”

“My son cried himself to sleep last night because he was counting on one last week with his Aunty Fox. That week was callously taken from him.”

“Alana—”

“There are less stars in the sky now. And my husband?” She scoffs. “Girl, my husband hasn’t even had a chance to consummate his marriage.”

“What’s that got to do with me ? I wasn’t gonna be in the room with you.

Jesus! I’m here to support you, Lana, but there are some lines I’d rather not cross.

” Especially when your husband looks exactly like the man who crushed my heart.

I peel sticky gum off my shoe, groaning when the mess only seems to grow worse.

“You’re making an already stressful situation worse. Friends don’t do that to friends.”

“You didn’t even tell him how you feel! People don’t do that to people they love.”

“He suggested I go to Rome! He didn’t choose me, Alana. If he wanted me to stay, he could’ve pulled me aside and said something. He didn’t.”

“Tommy told me he loves you.”

Straightening again, I scrunch the napkin and glance around for a trashcan. “Tommy loves me? That’s sweet. A little inappropriate, considering you just got married. But sweet all the same.”

“No, stupid! Tommy said that Chris loves you. He told me last night, after I held my crying son to sleep because my son is autistic and doesn’t handle change very well. He was expecting a week with you, but you cruelly robbed him of that. That makes you inconsiderate and a child abuser.”

“For God’s sake.” I grab my purse and sling it over the crook of my arm, and leaving my carry-on where it is, I stride toward the closest trashcan I can find. “You’re laying it on a little thick, don’t you think?”

“It’s not thick enough until you’re back here in my living room. And just so you don’t change the subject too easily, I repeat: Tommy said Chris said he loves you.”

“That’s nice.” Be still, my stupid, aching heart. “Chris never told me.”

“Tommy said Chris said he was gonna move to New York to be with you.”

“He—” I skid to a stop, just eight feet from the trash can. “What?”

“Finally,” she growls. “Got your attention. Chris was planning to sell his house and use that money to buy an apartment in New York. He would have given everything up for you, Fox. And he was trying to tell you, but then Booker turned up and ruined everything.”

“Chris wouldn’t come here. No chance.” I start moving again, frowning as I toss the wipe into the trashcan, and then I spin back and head toward the carousel.

Sadly, I arrive… to nothing.

I look to the man on my left, then to the guy on my right— yep, this is where I was —then I look down at the small speck of gum still on the floor. “Someone stole my carry-on.”

Alana falls silent for a beat. “What?”

“Someone stole my friggin’ carry-on! Dammit!” I grab my carousel-neighbor’s sleeve and yank him around. “Did you see who took my suitcase?”

He looks to the floor— no suitcase —then back into my eyes. Then he drags his arm from my grip and circles to wait elsewhere. So I turn to the dude on my right. “Did you see who took my suitcase?”

“They haven’t come out yet.” He snags his phone and accepts a call, but he gestures toward the not-yet-moving carousel. “They’ll come soon.”

“Someone stole your suitcase?” Alana questions. “Seriously?”

“I was gone for ten seconds!” I back up and cast my eyes around the packed airport, searching for the bright monstrosity amongst blacks and blues and grays. “Who took my suitcase!?”

“You’re going to get your ass arrested,” Alana snickers. “Don’t shout in a New York airport, dummy. You know better than that.”

“First my pen, and now my suitcase!” I want to scream. I want to sit on the floor and cry. Most of all, I want Chris to emerge amongst the other travelers and tell me he loves me. Choose me, dammit! “It’s gone, Lana. All my stuff.”

“And you didn’t check it, right? Are you sure you didn’t?—”

“Yes, I’m sure! I had it a second ago, but I walked away to put the gum in the trash. Now it’s gone.”

“Did you have anything important in it? Anything valuable?”

“Well…” I tear my purse open and mentally check off my things. Laptop. Wallet. Cards. Phone. Tampons. “It had my butt plug in it. And cookies from the bakery. Raya packed them for me to bring home.”

“Cookies and a butt plug?” she snorts. “Honestly, that sounds like a fun suitcase to steal. If I knew the chick beside me at the airport was packing that kinda stuff, I’d do everything I could to become her best friend. She sounds fun.”

“Alana!”

“I feel for you,” she drawls. “So sad. Devastated. Someone stole from you. Those bastards.”

“You don’t sound sad at all.”

“I am,” she snarls. “Just not about the case. I’m mostly focused on the fact you’re leaving the freakin’ country in three days and moving to Rome! Buy a new butt plug and stop being such a friggin’ baby about the things that don’t matter.”

“He dipped, Alana! He left! He had a chance to say something, anything , but he didn’t. Then, instead of spending our last day together, he hid away and didn’t even say goodbye.”

“Because he’s hurt! That’s who he is, Fox.

He feels deeply , and now the woman he loves is leaving the country.

Maybe we disagree with his coping mechanisms, but we don’t get to dictate them.

He’s in survival mode now, so if he wants to lock himself away to cope, then there isn’t a damn thing we can do about it. ”