I launch myself from the bed and scamper to the bathroom to remove my contacts. After turning on the shower, I gather my hair into a messy bun. When I step back into the bedroom to grab my glasses, Connor’s at the ready, dressed in a pair of thin, black sweatpants and a well-loved Chicago Cubs t-shirt, holding my glasses out for me.
He watches me put them on and then takes my face in his hands. “Beautiful,” he whispers. The next second he unceremoniously spins me around, slaps me on the behind, shoves me back into the bathroom to take a shower and announces he’s ordering us room service for dinner.
An hour later we’re leaning back in a lounge chair on the balcony, bellies and hearts full, pajamas on well before dark. My back against his chest, he cradles me between his legs, his armswrapped around me. And that’s where we stay for hours as we watch the sun sink slowly toward the horizon.
Conversation ebbs and flows, stretches of quiet filled with nothing but the mindless weaving of our interlocked fingers in, out and over.
“How are you feeling about tomorrow?” he asks.
I inhale a deep breath, considering. It’s been over eight hours since I left the note on Cheyenne’s door and there’s still no word. Even to my surprise, I’m not worried. Like Connor pointed out earlier, I’ve done all I can and there’s a peace that comes with that. Having him here helps, too.
“Would I sound crazy if I said I’m not worried?”
He smiles into my hair and curls an ankle over mine. “Not crazy.”
Silence settles again before I ask if he thinks Drew and Reagan are okay. We speculate for a while about what could have happened as our memories search for any clues from the past few weeks that we might have missed. Did something happen to somebody in her family? Something with work? Is she pregnant? Sick?
We both text my brother, but don’t immediately get a reply.
Phones set aside, we rest deeper into our embrace. The sky turns a soft magenta as the sun melts into the horizon, reflecting off the red earth all around. Tufts of purple clouds dot the tips of the mesas in the distance.
“Can I ask you a question?” Connor kisses my temple.
“Mmhmm.”
He squeezes me tighter. “What if Drew doesn’t accept this?” His voice is tense with worry. When I turn my face up to his, a set of troubled eyes move over me.
I flip myself over and straddle his waist. With my palms framing his face, I pull his full attention to me.
“Hey,” I say, my lips softly kissing his. “I choose you and you choose me. The only decision Drew gets to make is whether or not to support us.”
“What if he cuts us out? What if he cutsyouout?” This is whathe fears the most, what paralyzed him on that balcony three years ago—that he’ll lose a best friend and I’ll lose a brother.
My heart refuses to believe Drew would ever be that cruel. But Connor’s tender, good soul needs validation. I hear his fears and I’ll never dismiss them.
“Ifhe did then that would behischoice, not the fault of anything we did.” I set his forehead to mine. “As long as we make each other happy, we’re allowed to choose that for ourselves.”
Connor breathes against my neck. I don’t let go until the tension in his shoulders eases and his body settles, relaxing against me.
“Whatever happens, we’re in this together,” I say.
“Together.”
When the sun finally sets and the sky fades to black, we head inside.
I’m halfway across the bedroom when he calls my name from the living room. When I turn to face him, he holds up an envelope branded with the resort’s logo. “This was on the floor in the entryway.”
Someone must have slid it under the door while we were outside. He holds the sealed envelope out to me, but I don’t reach for it. I can’t seem to make my feet move. The small distance between us closes as he pads softly toward me.
“I’m right here with you.” He grabs my hand, places the envelope in my palm and tilts my chin to meet his gaze. “Read it.”
Deep breaths.
I turn it over in my hands. Connor’s hand settles on my shoulder and I tear it open. The single piece of resort letterhead tucked inside contains a handwritten message—short and to the point. I read it silently to myself three times. My thoughts pinball back and forth in my head as I try to absorb the words.
“What does it say?” Connor asks.
I suck in a breath and read.
