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28

MONTE

J ulian accompanies me on the early morning helicopter ride to Laramie, where I’ll take a short flight to Denver and then on to New York.

I can feel him glancing at me every few minutes. If he’s got something to say, I don’t especially want to hear it so I won’t be the one to encourage him to open his mouth.

The scenery out the window is glorious and I’m sure I’d appreciate it if I was in a better mood. My only thought is that tonight I’ll be holding my girl again. I’ll get to tell her all the words I should have said before I left her behind. If she wants to see me grovel, I’ll grovel. I’ll do anything she wants. I meant it when I said that I need her with me.

As we’re landing at the Laramie airport, I rethink the conversation with my brother and realize I never told him I’d be flying back today. He probably assumes I’ll be driving. That’s a big can of worms to open up right now and anyway, I don’t have access to a phone to give him an update. He’ll find out soon enough.

Julian follows me from the chopper and into the terminal building. My flight will be taking off in thirty minutes so I don’t have time for any Tempesta drama.

“Monte,” he says.

I’m tempted to just keep walking but I sling my duffel bag over my shoulder and turn around.

Julian steps up with a hangdog look on his face that’s totally out of character. We’re the same height and he scores a tiny bit of credit for daring to look me in the eye after all the shit he and his brothers pulled.

There’s an object in his hand and he holds it out. “Getty didn’t really throw it in the creek.”

I snatch my phone from him, noting that the battery is dead but it looks otherwise undamaged. With a hiss of annoyance, I walk away from him.

“I’ll see you,” he calls.

“No, you won’t.” I raise my right hand and flip him off.

He laughs anyway.

When the plane takes off, I exhale with relief. Finally, I’m on my way to Sabrina. We fly over the Tempestas’ parked helicopter and Julian is standing on the tarmac and watching the sky. He waves at the sight of my plane. I’d flip him off again but what’s the point? He can’t see me.

It’s only now, as I’m high above the ground, that I take a panicked look at my left hand and remember how I left my wedding ring in the glove compartment of the Impala when I arrived at Storm’s Eye. I try to tell myself it doesn’t matter, that the vows Sabrina and I exchanged weren’t done in good faith anyway.

We’re in love. We don’t need rings for this to be real.

Yet I still regret losing mine.

After barely making my connecting flight in Denver and searching unsuccessfully for an outlet to plug my phone charger into, I land at JFK in the late afternoon. The city sparkles beneath the summer sky and has never looked better.

How could anyone not love this place?

I love it more than ever because when I look down at the maze of high-rises and concrete, I see more than home. I see the girl who owns my heart.

But this dead phone problem is becoming a real kick in the teeth. How did people get shit done before cell phones were a thing? They must have just wandered around aimlessly, tormented by a ton of unanswered questions. I consider stopping in the terminal to plug it in long enough to make a call but I don’t want to stop. I’m too keyed up to be back in the same city as my girl.

The second I’m outside, I hail the first cab I see and bark out the Manhattan cross streets for Gino’s. Nico said Sabrina was staying at her sister’s place in Brooklyn but I don’t have an address. Gino’s seems like the best place to regroup, get in touch with her, and make a plan.

Not even a full month has passed since I last stepped through the door of Gino’s but it’s been an eventful absence. On the jukebox, The Band just started playing The Weight . The predictable view of my dad standing behind the counter is an emotional punch. Stevie nudges him and he looks up.

“Hey, Pop.” I toss my bag in the corner.

He leans heavily on the counter. The circles under his eyes aren’t my imagination and sorrow gnaws at my guts.

I can’t relate to the agony of a parent.

Maybe someday. I hope so. Now that I’ve found the right girl, I can actually see that happening.

What’s more, I can only wish that when the time comes, I’ll do the job half as well as Sal Castelli.

“Hey, kid,” he replies in a gruff pitch. He looks me over, evaluating whether there’s been any permanent damage done in my time away and then relaxes when he finds none. “Your brother seemed to think you’d be on the road for a few days before showing up.”

“Yeah, I’ll explain later. Has Sabrina been around?”

“Nico was trying to cheer her up and brought her in for lunch. She mentioned going to some event at her school so she’s probably still there.”

“Look, I know I owe you a few hours of explanations but-”

He waves his hand to cut me off.

“Go to your girl,” he says gently. “She misses you like crazy and it hurts to see her sad.”

“We’ll talk later.” I start backing away toward the door.

He nods but there’s now also a smile on his face. “You bet your ass we will.”

Nothing but the need to get to Sabrina could make me run out on my dad. The game design school is in midtown, far enough away that I’m not willing to take the extra time to walk so I flag down another cab.

I’ve been here many times to pick Sabrina up but I’ve never stepped inside. Today there’s a black and white banner stretched across the top of the entrance that says Fourth Annual Game Design Exhibition.

The people who are milling around outside and sifting in and out of the building are all wearing ID badges. A stocky security guard is checking credentials at the door so unless I want to make a scene I’m not getting in there without flashing some.

As luck would have it, a skinny guy jogs down the steps and starts down the sidewalk. His eyes bulge when I step into his path.

“You’re leaving?” I ask him.

He takes a panicked glance around in search of potential help. “Yes?” He says it as a question, like he’s offering to change the answer if I want him to.

I pull out my wallet and extract all the cash. “There’s almost three hundred bucks here. Give me your badge and it’s yours.”

He practically faints with relief. I didn’t mean to scare him. The guy pulls the lanyard with the badge over his head and hands it over.

“All yours,” he says and runs away without taking the cash. If I chase him, he’ll probably piss his pants so I just shove the money back into my pocket and trot up the steps.

A glance at the badge tells me that my temporary name is Arvid Kanterman. As long as no one examines the photo too closely I’ll be in the clear.

The security guard waves me in with a yawn. Every hopeful video game creator in the tri-state area must be here. Most are male and nobody gives me a second look as I impatiently scour the crowd for any sign of Sabrina.

Following the herd, I find myself in a large auditorium. Dozens of simultaneous conversations create a constant buzz. The room is a maze of colorful tables and booths. Many have interactive screens set up to show off their products.

And there she is. A flash of bright pink in the middle of a knot of drab men. Vibrant and captivating. Her long hair is loose and her short sleeve dress reaches to her knees, matching the flats she wears.

She’s speaking rapidly, using her hands a lot and gesturing to the screen behind her. I recognize the graphics from one of her own games, the one she demonstrated for me as she sat in my lap in a Colorado kitchen.

Everyone around her hangs on her every word, listening in rapt silence as she points to the monitor and demonstrates her game.

She’s beautiful. She’s brilliant. She’s inspiring.

And I’ll love her forever.

Sabrina’s head was turned while she called up an image on the screen but now she faces her audience. Our eyes lock and hers widen with shock.

“MONTE!” she yells and now all heads are swiveling this way.

I cut through the crowd without even seeing them as I rush to her. We collide and I scoop her up into my arms. Holding her again is like returning home after war. She is my home, now and always.

Without the slightest care about who is watching, I greedily seek out her mouth and steal a lengthy, passionate kiss. Her response is just as eager. She’s clinging to my neck and her legs are around my waist.

After a full minute she breaks the kiss and tilts her head back to give me a severe stare. “I’m still kind of mad at you. And how did you drive back so fast when Nico said you just left Wyoming today? What happened to your phone? Do you have any idea how much I’ve missed you?”

“I’ll tell you everything. I’m so sorry, baby. Just let me look at you for a minute.”

She drops her legs from my waist and runs her hands over the flared skirt of her dress before raising a stubborn chin. “You can look,” she sniffs, then pokes a finger into my chest. “But you have some explaining to do.”

I reach for her hand and press it to my lips. “I’ll explain. I’ll grovel. I’ll fall on my knees and beg your forgiveness. Name it, Brina.”

Tenderness battles with stubbornness on her face. But it’s her mischievous smile that finally wins.

“Sing,” she says.

“What?”

She shrugs. “You told me to name the price of my forgiveness. I’ve always wanted to be serenaded in front of a crowd. This won’t get you off the hook completely, but it’s a start.”

“You want me to sing to you right here?”

Her grin stretches wider. Clearly, she’ll enjoy making me squirm. “Right here. Right now.”

My fault for putting ideas into her head. That doesn’t mean I won’t follow through.

Whatever Sabrina wants from me, she will have.

Her eyes dance with delight as I clear my throat and begin.

“In Napoli….”

By the time I’m finished belting out That’s Amore , a considerable crowd has surrounded us. I refuse to let go of Sabrina’s hand the entire time so there’s no confusion about who she belongs to.

Sure, I’m making a fool of myself and people are holding their phones up to record me but who the fuck cares?

Nothing matters but the girl in front of me.

Once I’ve dragged out the final note, I pull her close, enjoying the feel of her body and vowing to myself that we’ll never be separated again. My lips graze her forehead. “I love you, Brina.”

She wraps her arms around my waist and lays her cheek against my heart. “Then take me home, Monte Carlo.”

Naturally, I obey with no hesitation.