Don't Look Back (21 page)

The darkness starts to close in and stars flicker behind my eyelids as I feel the intense, impending eruption reach its climax. I breathe in deeply, gasping, as I feel my body tense up and explode around his hand. Matthew’s mouth covers mine, silencing my soft cries, his arm encircling me, holding me still until my body relaxes. His mouth moves away from mine slowly as the music fades out, the song coming to a close. He gently tugs the
ear buds, and they fall from our ears, landing on the table between us.

He caresses my thighs and places my leg back on my seat. I lift my hips as he helps me slide my clothes back up. We lock eyes in an intense stare, and slipping his hand out from beneath the blanket, he seductively raises his fingertips to his lips, tasting me shamelessly. He leans over, smirking, bringing his lips to mine, making sure I taste myself on his tongue.

“I love making you blush,” he whispers against my lips. He smiles, trailing his thumb along my swollen lower lip. “I love you, Kate.” His eyes blaze into mine. “Always have, always will.” He tenderly kisses me one final time before relaxing back into his seat, holding my hand possessively in his.

I sit watching him sleep for some time, mesmerized by his magnificence. I now understand why he was so content doing the same to me on that first night in Harptree after Diana’s party. I can study him, explore every exposed part of him silently with my eyes, undisturbed. With each passing second, we travel closer to our destination. The grains of sand slip uncontrollably through the hourglass of our time together.

CHAPTER 21

Don’t Look Back

We have already passed the halfway point in the flight when Matthew awakens from his siesta. We spend the remaining hours of the flight in quiet conversation, catching up on the lost years, recounting stories and experiences, trying to share as much of ourselves as possible in such a short time. Matthew’s attention never strays from mine; his body is in constant contact with mine in one way or another. His lips graze my forehead, or his thumb caresses my cheek. His hand wraps around mine like a blanket, and he occasionally brings it to his lips to place soft kisses on my skin.

Sometimes he surprises me with a deep, passionate kiss, then goes back to his seat just as quickly, his eyes soft, his lips upturned in half a smile. As I listen to his various tales, I can easily envision the life we could have had together. I realize that even as a young girl I was right about him; we have always been made for each other. We
are two apples from the same tree, two halves of the same mold, blending seamlessly together. In any other time or place, we could have had it all. My heart aches with joy and pain. Joy because I finally know what I have been missing my whole life—it is Matthew, my one true love. Pain because I realize we are not meant to be in this lifetime, that we must let each other go once more. True love does exist, and “soulmate” is now a term I fully respect and understand.

As we make our descent into Los Angeles, I start to feel nausea; the butterflies flutter inside me, but this time for a different reason. The fear of our impending goodbye rises within me, terror at the thought of never seeing him again. The only hope I have is the thought of Allie, so I try my best to focus on her and how she needs me more than I need Matthew.

We sit motionless in our seats, Matthew’s arm around me, my head resting against his chest, in a world of our own as passengers hastily file past us making their exit. Several people offer to let us step into the aisle, but each time Matthew politely declines. As the final guests exit, we remorsefully gather our belongings and step into the narrow aisle, finally exiting the plane to the farewells of the eight or so flight attendants who are patiently waiting for our departure.

We walk up the jet bridge and out into the corridor that leads toward immigration and passport control. The sun is bright, and Matthew and I unlink our hands for a moment, fumbling in our bags for sunglasses and passports. I grab my phone and turn it on, sliding it into my back pocket. I feel it come to
life with vibration as the notifications go off—my real life catching up with the four days it has been turned off. I try to ignore it as we reconnect our fingers and continue on in silence.

The passport control area is busy, and since we are considered different nationalities, we are forced to separate into opposite lines.

“I’ll meet you on the other side,” he says, placing a kiss on my lips, his hand cupping my cheek, sunglasses propped on his head to hold back his untamed hair.

“Okay,” is all I can manage. My emotions are starting to get the best of me, as I know that Dave and Allie are waiting for me.

As we split up into our slow-moving lanes, the separation already feels painful. My skin aches to be close to him, my body already sensing his void. I pull out my phone as a distraction and scroll through emails, deleting the trash and checking anything that looks important. I have a couple of texts, but nothing important, and so far nothing from Dave. I discreetly type a message to him as I shuffle forward in the line, popping my head up every few seconds to see a reassuring glimpse of Matthew’s dark hair. He towers above most of the people in line.

I type:
Landed—immigration swamped, might be a while. Katie

I hit send and tuck the phone back into my pocket, hoping the text will buy me a few extra minutes with Matthew without arousing any suspicion. I feel it buzz with a return text.

Parking, we’ll grab coffee and wait
.

Good! I feel relief knowing they will be waiting at the far end of the arrivals area. Dave is usually sitting on a barstool enjoying a coffee when Allie and I arrive. Why would this time be any different? He is not the kind to fight the crowds at the arrivals exit, where the passengers stream out, pushing their luggage carts, eagerly seeking their loved ones for a joyous reunion.

Matthew's line is moving faster than mine, for some reason the U.S. Citizens line always seems to move slower. I see him move toward the front of his, and I estimate I still have about twenty people ahead of me. He glances over and smiles, and then pokes his tongue at me playfully; I stick mine out at him, and I can’t help but think about how magical his tongue is. He elegantly walks to the next available immigration officer, who happens to be a woman. I see her making conversation with him, a faint smile on her lips; she seems unusually friendly for an immigration officer. His body language is relaxed, and he smiles as he answers her questions, showing her his documentation, and probably charming her with his smile. Within a minute, he is through to the other side and heading toward baggage claim.

I struggle to keep my eye on him, feeling slightly panicked at our separation as I creep toward the front of the line for what feels like an eternity. Finally it’s my turn, and within a few minutes, I am reunited with Matthew as he waits on the far side of the baggage claim, holding both our suitcases, which he has retrieved from the luggage carousel. We hesitantly join the next line for customs, this time standing together. I wrap my arms around his waist
under his jacket, resting my head against his chest, listening to his heart beating. We shuffle together in silence as the line makes its way back and forth toward the exit.

As we get to the front of the line, Matthew ushers me forward to go first, and I hesitantly hand my passport and customs form to the officer, who does not look friendly.

“Hello,” he says, gaining my attention.

“Hello.” I smile nervously, briefly peeking behind me to see if Matthew has been called forward yet.

“Where are you coming from today, ma’am?” he inquires.

“London.” I bring my attention back to the young man sitting before me in his uniform as I spy Matthew moving to another officer three cubicles down.

I watch as the officer looks me over suspiciously, his eyes sizing up my luggage and the bags that I am carrying. His lips are turned downward, and I pity the tourists who have this welcome as their first impression of California. Not very hospitable at all.

“Okay, have a safe journey home.” He stamps my form, slides it back into my passport, and hands the documents back to me, yelling “Next!” to the person waiting in line behind me.

I take a few steps forward as Matthew emerges from his line, and we find ourselves at the beginning of the end. The ramp that lies before us leads up to the arrivals area. Halfway up, it turns to the left, and from that point on, smiling faces will be able to see us as we walk the final incline to the upper floor. Dave will be waiting with Allie to the right; Matthew
will need to turn left toward connecting flights. Loitering is strictly prohibited, so we have no choice other than to keep moving. I pretend to dig through my bag, stalling for a moment, trying to do anything to postpone the inevitable. My heart is pounding, and I can feel the tears burning in my eyes.

“Hey, come on now.” Matthew spots my tears. “No regrets, remember?”

I smile sadly at him; I am desperately trying to be brave.

“Dave is waiting up there.” I point to the ramp, “and Allie.” A sob escapes me, and he pulls me into his chest.

“Shush.” He calms me, his hand stroking my hair. “Listen.” He cradles my chin in his palm, tipping my head toward him, placing a soft, tender kiss on my lips. “You’re going to go first, and I’ll be a few steps behind.” Matthew’s voice is smooth and calm. “You’re going to put on a brave face and be so happy to see your daughter in a few minutes. I want you to remember that I will always love you, Kate. When you think about me, know that I am thinking of you. If you dream about me, know that I am dreaming of you. Take every memory that we’ve made and cherish it; hold it deep inside you forever. But promise me, Kate, when you walk up that ramp, you won’t look back. I beg of you, Kate. Please don’t look back.” His voice falters on his final words.

I nod my head, trying to convince myself, even though the voice inside me screams,
NO!
He straightens me up, pulls my sunglasses from my head, and slides them onto my nose, covering my swollen, red eyes.

“There. Much better,” he says. He drops a solo kiss onto my forehead, holding his lips there for what seems like an eternity, pressing them against my hairline as if he is trying to imprint them into my skin forever.

“I love you, Kate. Always have, always will,” he desperately whispers against my skin one last time.

“I love you too, Matthew. Have a safe journey home to your girls,” I manage, my voice shaking and breaking as sobs rock my lungs.

Unable to postpone the inevitable a moment longer, he locks his finger into mine tightly as we slowly walk toward the halfway point of the ramp, pulling our suitcases in silence. Before turning the corner, where we’ll be visible to the prying eyes of the outside world, Matthew claims my lips one final time. Our kiss is desperate and raw as we silently say goodbye. His hands touch my face in his reluctance to let me go.

I breathe deeply as I inch higher with each step I take. Slowly, people’s faces appear before me, then their bodies, and eventually I see the entire room. I somehow can sense Matthew right behind me. Every impulse within begs me to turn around, but I fight the urge, knowing that Allie and Dave have probably already spotted me.

I turn to the right, immediately feeling disconnected from Matthew, as if I have fallen off the track, somehow derailed. With each step I take toward the coffee shop, I feel the pull grow weaker as Matthew slips away.

I see Allie and Dave sitting at a table, both on their phones, unaware of my arrival. I am reminded of my typical life, and the reality slaps me brutally
across the face. As I approach them, Allie is first to notice me, and she smiles, pulling out one of her ear buds. My heart lightens a little at the sight of her, my beautiful baby girl. I swallow hard.

“Hey, Mom.” She jumps out of her seat, grabbing her large iced coffee drink. “How was your trip?” Allie wraps her arms around me, her teenage coolness lost for a rare moment.

“It was great, honey,” I reply, hugging her tightly back. I am trying to disguise my raw emotions, hanging onto my daughter for strength before she pulls away from me. “I’m extremely tired.” I swallow hard again.

Dave steps to the side and takes my suitcase and bags, our hands touching briefly during the exchange. “How was your flight?” he asks, making polite conversation.

“Best flight I’ve ever had,” I reply numbly. He will never know the truth of these words.

“Do you need anything before we get on the road?” He motions toward the ladies’ room on the right.

“No, I’m fine. Let’s just go.”

Dave walks ahead, leading the way by a few steps; Allie tucks her ear bud back in and follows a couple of steps behind him, sucking on her straw, teenage persona returned. I take a step forward, but something within me is fighting me. I cannot honor my last promise to Matthew; I do not have the will or the strength, and so, surrendering, I turn my head back toward the terminal as I move to the exit doors.

He is leaning against the wall by the end of the ramp, his arms crossed over his chest, his sunglasses
covering his eyes. I cannot read his expression, as it is a blank canvas; he stares in the direction where I am standing, where I greeted my family moments ago. I am frozen, paralyzed. My lungs ache as if they have collapsed, and my heart is crushed; it feels as though it has stopped beating in my chest. He raises his hand to his lips, and in slow motion, he blows a kiss my way. Everything becomes blurry as tears fill my eyes and cascade down my face. My windpipe burns as my throat constricts, my chin quivers uncontrollably, and my chest convulses. Agony sears through my body, engulfing me, as though my soul is being ripped from its roots.

“Mom!” Allie’s irritated voice jolts me, snapping me away from him. “Are you coming?” she persists, her tone sarcastic.

“Yes, of course,” I reply, wiping my tears, hoping she doesn’t notice them.

I search over my shoulder one final time, but Matthew is gone.

EPILOGUE

The sun against my skin feels delightful; it is a true luxury of the English summertime. As the bright white glow radiates through my closed eyelids, it casts a warmth that expands through my body. My hair flutters softly in the breeze, and I can hear the rustling of the ancient oak tree that stands majestically above me as I lie peacefully on the grassy embankment of the park hillside, enjoying a precious moment alone.