Page 70 of Forever Then
Chapter Fifty-Four
I’M HOME, BABY
Connor
August
Me
What are you wearing?
Gretchen
Clothes.
I’m not sexting you from work.
Me
Clothes can be hot. Are they hot?
Gretchen
You should be doing work things right now.
Me
I’m wearing clothes, too. In case you were wondering…
Gretchen
I wasn’t.
Me
Give me something, Fish. I miss the hell out of you!
Gretchen
*insert pondering emoji*
Me
Still not using actual emojis, I see.
Gretchen
I’m wearing a skirt.
Me
Mmmm, what’s underneath that skirt?
Gretchen
You’re gonna regret this.
Me
I’ll be the judge of that.
Gretchen
Nothing.
Me
This was a mistake.
Gretchen
Enjoy the rest of your day, QB.
*insert winky face emoji*
I miss the hell out of you, too.
September
Twenty-four hours with Gretchen in Flagstaff was not enough.
The only alone time we had was one night at the hotel. With her room adjoined to her parents, I couldn’t do the things I wanted to do to her. We could only do careful and quiet things, hands-covering-our-mouths things. Better than nothing, but it only left me needing more.
The afternoon spent at Cheyenne and Miguel’s house wasn’t much different than Gretchen’s birthday celebration back in June.
Everyone embraced Kelly, Paul, Drew and Reagan into the fold like one of their own.
Kelly and Cheyenne hugged for the better part of four hours, two mothers exchanging and wiping each other’s tears.
Gretchen never told her parents about Winona’s role in everything, maintaining that it was her story to tell.
When Winona pulled Kelly and Paul aside an hour into the party, I had an idea what was happening.
One by one, Gretchen, Cheyenne, and Miguel joined the hushed conversation and I watched with bated breath to see how Kelly and Paul would respond to the knowledge of what Cheyenne’s sister had done.
“What’s going on?” Drew asked when he caught me staring. A gaggle of young boys ran circles around us as I held a football over my head, but I didn’t take my eyes off the conversation across the yard.
My response fell silent as Kelly hauled Winona into a hug, rivers of tears streaming down their cheeks.
I simply shrugged and said, “Not sure.”
That was three weeks ago. Gretchen and I have had twenty-four hours together in the past two months.
“Vining, if you’re gonna be a sour patch baby at your own birthday party, just go home,” Drew chides from across the high table.
I wouldn’t call it a party. Drew and Reagan arranged for a night at the bar with a few mutual friends. My parents even flew in to spend the weekend with me.
“Baby boy, turn that frown upside down,” Mom says with a smile and a kiss on my cheek.
Dad tilts his beer at his lips. “What is it, two more months?”
“A little less, yeah.”
Gretchen wanted to fly in for my birthday, but I told her to not spend the money. Soon enough we’ll have every day together, I had told her. I’m so wise and frugal. Dumbass.
“Ask him how many days?” Drew says, eyes aimed at a message he’s typing on his phone .
“I’m not that bad,” I defend, but I don’t have much fight left.
“How many days, Vining?”
I sigh. “Fifty-one.”
“There it is.” Drew shoves his phone in his back pocket. “Can I give you your birthday gift now? Or are you too much of a little bitch to get excited about presents?”
I glare at him.
He swipes his beer from the table. “You’re welcome for this, by the way.”
“For what?” I ask.
My best friend’s response is nothing but a smug grin and a tip of his bottle over my shoulder.
I spin on my barstool. The breath gets knocked right out of my lungs when I see her. Gretchen stalks across the bar, heart-stopping smile set entirely on me. I’m out of my seat in an instant, sweeping her into my arms in three strides.
“Happy Birthday,” she whispers.
“How are you here?” I pull back to look at her, but my mouth is on hers before she can answer.
“Drew bought my plane ticket. I have to go back tomorrow night.”
I shake my head in disbelief and turn to find Drew in the crowd. When our eyes meet, I mouth, “thank you.”
Gretchen squeals in delight when she spots my parents.
She drops into the seat beside them like she’s got all the time in the world and for forty-five minutes, I am patience personified.
A saint, if you will. I feed her. I keep her Diet Coke full.
And I listen as she and my parents catch up as hard as the day is long.
The moment she takes the last bite of her burger, I toss a wad of bills on the table, politely ending this charade.
“Mom, Dad, I love you, but we’re leaving now.
” Dad chuckles while Mom looks scandalized.
God love her . Gretchen ducks her head in quiet laughter.
Me? I’m not the least bit embarrassed that my parents know exactly what Gretchen and I are about to be up to for the next twenty-four hours, if I have anything to say about it .
With a final wave to my friends, I grab Gretchen’s suitcase from behind the bar, throw her over my shoulder and bolt for the door.
Out on the sidewalk, Gretchen swats my ass and laughs. “You’re such a caveman.”
“We have less than twenty-four hours, baby.”
“We’ll get there faster if you let me down.”
I ease her to her feet, take her by the hand, and roll her suitcase behind me with my free hand as we begin the two-block jog to my apartment.
“I feel bad I didn’t get you a present,” she spits out through sharp breaths but never breaks her stride.
“Don’t need one. You’re here. That’s all I want.”
We slow to a walk as we approach my building. “Actually, I did get you one thing, but it’s not much of anything.”
“Oh yeah,” I answer absently, but try to show interest—her being here is truly all I could ever want.
A couple minutes later, we stumble into my apartment, a passionate storm of hands and lips. “You ready for your present?” She smiles as I kick the door shut behind me.
The shy turn of her face has a glint of mischief that looks like trouble.
She prowls backward past my empty living room.
“I went to the doctor last week.” Strands of hair fall haphazardly around her shoulders as she peels her shirt over her head.
“A regular check-up, no big deal.” I suck in a breath as she removes her bra, nothing but a pair of skintight jeans adorning her body—I’ve missed her so much.
I stalk toward her with the same slow gait she’s using to lure me toward the bedroom. “What’d you get me, Fish?”
With a wink, she pushes her jeans down her legs. “I got an IUD.”
We don’t leave the apartment until I drive her to the airport a day later .
October
Gretchen
Living alone sucks.
Me
Facts.
Gretchen
Are you dressing up for Halloween?
Me
I think I’d make a good Ebenezer Scrooge.
Gretchen
Ahh yes. Old, cranky, full of regret. This tracks.
Me
I thought so. What about you?
Gretchen
Willy Wonka. I think the kids will love it.
Me
Willy Wonka…but with books?
Gretchen
How’d you know? *insert kissy face emoji*
Me
Gene says hi, btw.
Gretchen
*insert melting face emoji*
Do you think the trick-or-treaters will like peanut butter M&Ms?
Me
Nobody likes peanut butter M&Ms.
Gretchen
*Sigh* I don’t think this is going to work out.
Me
We’ve been doomed from the beginning.
Gretchen
We should probably break up.
Me
Probably so.
Gretchen
We had a good run.
Me
I wish you nothing but the best.
Gretchen
Don’t You Forget About Me.
Me
How could I? It’s been only moments Since U Been Gone.
Gretchen
I Saw The Sign years ago, sorry it took so long.
Me
You spun my head Right Round. I’m to blame too.
Gretchen
Our love was Titanium.
Me
No Diggity.
Gretchen
No Doubt.
I love you.
Me
I love you, too.
Gretchen
I miss the hell out of you.
Me
Me, too.
November
“That’s the last of it.” I close the trunk of my car, filled to max capacity with the last of my things. My apartment upstairs is empty, save for the bed frame and mattress.
I peel the key off my key chain and pass it to my best friend. “The guy buying the bed is coming by in the morning to pick it up.”
“Got it. I’ll be here,” Drew says, tucking the key into his pocket.
“And I told the office you’d drop the keys off on Monday.”
Drew bobs his head, neither of us too keen on eye contact at the moment. “And Gretch still doesn’t know you’re showing up three days early?”
I shake my head. “Nope. No clue.”
As far as she knows, I have some work stuff to wrap up over the weekend and will make the drive to New Jersey on Monday.
Unbeknownst to her, thanks to many early mornings and late nights, my team has reached the end of the Governor’s campaign project.
I’ll need to video-conference in on Monday morning to give a final recap to my boss, but he approved my request to make yesterday my official last day in the office.
The work I’ve done on this project, along with the generous letter of recommendation from Mr. Driskill, was my golden ticket to secure a marketing management position at a sports magazine start-up in Manhattan.
My years spent as a quarterback may have done me a few favors, too.
It’s a mid-sized operation, spear-headed by a few athletes turned executives around my age, all of them with wives and kids—really down to earth guys that I’m excited to work with.
I met with my new bosses on a video call this morning and we hashed out the details of the position. I’ll report to the office for my first day the Monday after Thanksgiving.
After I hung up from that call, I super-sonic cleaned my apartment, cleared out my fridge, packed up my bathroom and closet, and patched up the walls to ensure I get my security deposit back .
When Gretchen texted this afternoon to check in, I played right into the plan as she knows it.
“You sure you’re good to drive through the night?”
“I’m good.”