Finding Home
Copyright © 2013 by Aine Kelley
Cover Design: Sarah Hansen from Okay Creations (
www.okaycreations.com
)
Photographer: Regina Wamba from Mae I Designs (
www.maeidesign.com
)
Editor: Madison Seidler (
www.madisonseidler.com
)
Proofreading: Chelsea Kuhel (
www.madisonseidler.com
)
Interior Design: Angela Mclaurin (
[email protected]
)
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.
All rights reserved.
For My Family—thanks for all your love and support.
I look at my phone for what seems like the hundredth time in the last hour and a half, since I’ve been sitting in the airport. Negative thoughts begin to creep in my brain. My anxiety is at an all-time high. My heart feels like it’s in the express lane in overdrive mode with the rate it’s beating. I told Jenny to wait, but she’s never been great with keeping her word, especially when it comes to my love life. She seems to think that I need a push in that department.
I look around again, having little hope that he’ll miraculously show up. I think back to the past six weeks. Everything felt so real to me.
It was real, wasn’t it?
Maybe it wasn’t as real as I thought. I will him to come, like it’s some sort of mantra. This is not happening again. I can’t believe I let this happen again. Clearly, I haven’t been thinking, because if I had just followed my plan of not getting involved, then this wouldn’t be happening. I close my eyes and think about him. I let my fantasy of him play out in my thoughts.
I’m in a movie, the kind where the guy goes after the girl he loves. He’s stopping her from leaving because he can’t imagine his life without her. I can see the scene so clearly with him in it. His car races through traffic to get to me. He runs through the terminal and reaches for my arm just as I approach the security checkpoint. Then it happens, our eyes lock in on each other, and we silently express our true feelings as only lovers can. He reaches out to me and looks deep into my eyes—so deep it sends shivers down my spine. Suddenly, his arms embrace me, and the kiss he delivers is made from movie magic. There are no words; none are needed because the look in his eyes and his kiss say it all.
I snap out of my daydream remembering the two things I firmly believe in when it comes to love and how to gauge its authenticity: the eyes and the kiss. Number one, the eyes. The way a man looks you in the eyes should tell you everything you need to know. They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul, and I believe it. Number two, the kiss. The kiss can express all of his feelings—emotionally, spiritually, and physically. In just one kiss you know how a person truly feels about you. That’s how it was with him. His eyes and kiss said it all. Oh God, how he could kiss. It was the kind of kiss that you felt down to your toes, the kind that ignited your body. And his eyes, the way he looked at me like I was his dessert, was a feeling that I had never experienced before. It was the first time I felt truly loved. If I admit it to myself, it was the first time I really understood love.
Women everywhere want their happy endings and happily-ever-afters. That’s what I want. I want the boom box over the head of the guy playing the song for the girl he loves. I want my
Say Anything
moment. Is that really so much to ask?
A loud female voice startles me back to reality. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are beginning the boarding of Flight 1226 to Boston. Please have your tickets ready.” Yep, it’s official. I’m an idiot and a hopeless romantic. I know movies aren’t real, but a part of me still hopes and believes that what we have is genuine. Looking back at the way my life has been the past few years; I think I need to face the facts. I need a reality check, so to speak, and my check was Ben Foster. But I’m not ready to face the facts. Instead, I just sit here and silently pray that he will come for me. I try to hold on to that last piece of hope, as ridiculous as it is. I allow the inner movie to play on repeat in my mind. I allow him to run after me and catch me.
“Attention passengers, this is the final boarding call for Flight 1226 to Boston-Logan Airport.” I vaguely hear the call, since I am so distracted by my own movie.
God, Sam, get with the program.
“Excuse me, Miss, it’s time to board,” the gate agent says to me, but the words aren’t quite registering yet. I’m still partially in my dream. “Miss, you need to board now, or the flight will leave without you.” She looks at me with an annoyed expression on her face.
“Please, I just need one more minute!” Her face is now full of sadness or pity, and she nods her head. Am I making the right decision? Yes. Time to face the truth. He can’t give his heart completely to me. He can’t love me the way I love him. It’s time to go home.
Idiot
! I slowly lift my hand to the agent and give her my boarding pass. I fight back the tears I can feel burning behind my eyes.
I will not cry, I will not cry.
But it is no use; the tears fall hard as I walk down the gateway and onto the plane. Keeping my head down so that no one can see my pain, I quickly find my seat.
I am not getting my happy ending like you see in the movies. No, in my world, I go on the plane and head home. No happily ever after for me—nothing new there.
Placing my headphones on, I try to focus and block everything out. I need to forget about the last six weeks. I need to forget how he made me feel and how his touch and gaze consumed me. I need to forget that I let my heart get broken.
This is the story of my life. Why is it that every relationship I ever have ends like this? I told myself that I would not let my heart break again. When I arrived in Napa Valley, I promised to stick to my life plan. I needed to keep my heart safe. It only took one look from him, and I found myself wanting to overturn every decision I made about love. Well, I broke it big time and now look at me. I’m crying on a plane while I head home, with no idea what I’m going to do when I get there. I couldn’t stay here and be around him; it would be too much. It’s time to go home, even though he felt like home. As much as I want to, I can’t love enough for both of us. Love and relationships apparently aren’t in the big picture for me. I laugh to myself when thinking about how we started and ended. I don’t want to think about him, but the memories are there, just waiting for me to overanalyze.
The flight attendant announces I have to turn off my music while we take off. I reach for my magazine to try and focus on anything else but him. I look out the window below and watch the lights of San Francisco lose their brightness. Closing my eyes, the memories come crashing into me—his face, his piercing blue eyes, the small scar above his left eyebrow that he got from playing rugby, and his strong jaw line. The way his full lips touched my skin and how my hands grabbed hold of his thick brown hair that always looked so messy. Just thinking of his touch melts me. “Fuck,” I silently whisper.
This is going to be a long ass flight.