I clear my throat and try again. "What if I ask you to come, and you move there, and we don't work out?" What if I'm just afraid, and I'm clinging to what I know? Is that what this tightness in my chest is?

"I let the fear of the unknown get to me last time, and I'm not doing that again. If you ask, and I agree to go, that's on me. I'll own that choice. The outcome, whatever we become, whether we stick together or fall apart, that's on us."

I bite the inside of my cheek, indecision warring in me. I'm not even in Scotland yet. How can I be sure I'll even want to stay the year? I've committed to the exchange, but if I'm miserable, I might be asking him to uproot his life to live in misery with me. Is that fair? Even if the thought of leaving him behind makes my stomach roll?

The waiter removes our plates, Simon pays the bill, and I can't seem to get words past my lips. We walk back to our hotel room in silence, and my mind is a jumble of thoughts, and I can't figure out which outcome is the right one. Come with me. Wait for me.

Let each other go.

Simon squeezes my hand. "You okay? You're almost hyperventilating."

I drop his hand and press my fingers against my temples. Even if I could let him go, I don't want to. I don't. I want him in my life. That last option isn't the right one for me, for us.

"Honestly, I'm not sure I'm in the right frame of mind to be making any sort of big, lifechanging decision tonight. The last impulsive one I made isn't working out so well. Whatever I said to you, I don't know if I'd mean it. I think I should mean it."

"That's fair." He runs a hand down my hair and kisses the top of my head. "There's no pressure from me. But I—if the choice is mine, I choose you, any road that leads me to you, I choose that one."

We're at the door to our hotel room, and I press my back against it, not getting out the key to let us in. Simon braces his hands on either side of the frame and stares down at me. Green eyes, so vibrant they almost don't seem real. Eyes I could drown in.

"I love you. If you ask me to come at any point, I'll come. If you ask me to wait, I'll wait." He swallows and breaks eye contact. "If you tell me to let you go, I'll do that too."

"Not the last option," I say. "We've tried that and breaking up was overrated."

He lets out a soft chuckle full of relief and his green eyes soften like a field after the rain. "Overrated, huh?"

"Fear shouldn't drive a decision like this, should it? I shouldn't ask you to uproot your life because I'm afraid to go alone. I should ask you because having you anywhere but there just doesn't make sense." I take a deep breath. "And I don't think I'll know that until I'm there, you know?"

"You had me at not the last option." He grins. "Whatever you decide, I'm yours."

I rise onto my toes and circle my arms around his neck. "And you're mine." For the first time in weeks, the rolling anxiety is gone from my stomach. The fear that's been gripping me for days at the thought of leaving has disappeared. Maybe my fear wasn't in leaving but in leaving him.

When our gazes meet again, I slide my hands from around his neck to frame his face and then I kiss him like I'm leaving tomorrow, like we'll never get another night like tonight. Because no matter what I decide or when I decide it, tomorrow afternoon I'll be alone in Scotland. We'll never be in New York City, staring down this abyss of uncertainty. If we ever come back we'll be different people, in a different place. Somehow, through fate or chance or circumstance, we found our way back to each other, and I don't want to waste another second being angry or wishing we came together another way. Whatever path we took, we're here now.

His arms circle me, a hand between my shoulder blades, and another gripping my ass, drawing me close enough to feel how much he wants me.

"Are we doing this in the hall?" Simon asks between kisses.

I laugh and fish the keycard out of my purse, slipping it into the lock and opening the door while drawing him into another kiss. He walks us backward, and I bang into the rollaway bed.

"Oww," I cry when my calf hits the sharp metal corner.

Simon swings me into his arms and walks over the beds until we're just below the headboard. He takes off my shoes and examines my calf where I clipped the bed.

"I think you'll survive," he says, gazing up at me under his lashes, my foot still in his hand.

"Not if you don't get up here. No one wants to spend time with my feet right now."

He chuckles. "Believe me when I say I've spent time with much worse."

"Oddly," I say, tugging his shirt over his head. "I don't need any of those stories right now."

We shed our clothes in a flurry of rushed movements, but once we're skin-to-skin, Simon traces his index finger along my body, and the air in the room shifts from frantic to something bordering on melancholy.

"I don't want to be sad tonight," I murmur. Tears are likely to be constant companions tomorrow. They don't need to ruin these last moments together like this.

"You think this is sadness?" Simon asks, his gaze following his finger. "This is reverence."

"You revere me?" A smile blooms. Simon has a romantic soul.

"Oh, no." He chuckles. "Just your body."

I punch his shoulder, and he laughs more before cupping my cheek and kissing me deeply.

When he breaks the kiss, he plants another on the crown of my head and then dots kisses down my body. "I revere you from the top of your head," he says, "all the way down to the soles of your feet."

A sudden burst of the sadness, the one I've been fleeing all night, seizes me, and I thread my hands through his short strands. "Come with me to the airport tomorrow?"

He slides back up my body, braces one hand on either side of my head, and stares down at me. "You want me to ride with you in the cab?"

"Yes. Please." Tears fill my eyes.

"Aww, Tay. I love you. I love you. Of course I'll come."

I wrap my arms around his neck and drag him down into a kiss. 

I love you. I love you. I love you.

But the words never leave my lips.

~ * ~

When the alarm goes off in the morning, I cuddle closer to Simon and keep my eyes closed. He reaches over me and bangs the snooze button.

I take a deep, shuddering breath, bolstering myself for probably the longest morning of my life.

He kisses the top of my head and envelops me in a hug. "I'm a phone call. A text. A flight away. You're never alone if you don't want to be, okay?"

"When did you learn all the right things to say?" My voice is husky with the tears I'm trying to ward off.

He chuckles. "Maybe after saying all the wrong things first? I'm a trial and error kinda guy."

I've been holding back the words he's given me so freely, almost like a last bastion against potential hurt. The words are there, begging to be spoken, and the truth is, whether or not I speak them, I feel them. They're in the beat of my heart, the twist of my gut, and the tingling across my skin every time our gazes meet. He's mine. I'm his. In Grand Rapids or across an ocean in Scotland, that's not going to change.

"I love you," I breathe out the words like a prayer with all the weight and emotion they deserve.

He rolls us so he's balanced overtop of me, and he buries his head in the crook of my shoulder, his lips pressed to my skin. When he raises his head, he searches my face. The depths of his eyes hold so much relief, I realize how wrong I've been to deny him what's been in my heart for weeks.

"I love you," I whisper again.

He kisses me on the forehead, and then stares down at me for a beat. "I brought you something, and I wasn't sure if I should give it to you. But I think I should. You can open it when you get to Scotland." He climbs off the bed and pads to his backpack. From inside, he draws out a box wrapped in paper and brings it to the bed. "My heart, wrapped in a box." A hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

"I can't open it now?" I wipe away the stray tears sliding down my cheeks.

He glances at the bedside clock. "You might miss your flight if we hang around here."

I dig around in my carryon and wedge the box inside. My heart hammers at the thought of opening it alone in Scotland, but at least it gives me something to look forward to once I'm unpacked.

We get dressed and double check the room for any stray items, and then we're in the cab headed to the airport. While we were still in the hotel, I could almost pretend this morning was the same as the end of any vacation. Now that we're in the cab headed to the airport, my flight hours before Simon flies back to Grand Rapids, all I can think about is how much I don't want to leave.

A couple of times I ready myself to speak, a quip, a quick remark about something, but the words die on my tongue because the thought of meaningless words makes me want to burst into tears.

He squeezes my hand in the backseat as though he can read my mind. Maybe his thoughts are the same as mine.

At the airport, we cling to each other for as long as we can before I have to leave the main terminal to get to my gate.

When I can't avoid leaving any longer, we stand at the entrance to security. He frames my face in his hands and kisses me deeply.

"I love you," he rasps.

A sob gets stuck in my chest, and I can't breathe. Oh, God. I'm going to be that asshole at the airport who can't get herself under control, and when the sob rises, Simon holds me against his chest and lets me cry.

"Just tell me what you need, Tay. Tell me what you need, and I'll do it." His voice is thick with tears. "You're breaking my heart." He rubs my back in soothing motions.

"Book," I say, my voice hitching. "A plane ticket." I pull away, tears streaking my face. "I just need to know I'll see you again soon. Can you—can you come for a visit soon?"

"Yeah." He kisses my forehead. "Yes. End of the month? Two weeks?"

"Whenever you can get off work." I rise on my toes and wrap my arms around his shoulders, burying my face in his neck. I breathe him in, and I catalogue every inch of him, committing each piece to memory.

"I'll book a flight," Simon murmurs into my hair. "You've gotta go or you'll miss yours."

Part of me doesn't care, but the responsible side of me can't leave Angus's neighbors caring for the animals when it's supposed to be me. I agreed to this, and as long as Simon's coming to visit soon, I'll be okay.

"Call me when you get there. Whatever time. Doesn't matter. I just want to know you got there and you're safe." He squeezes me tight.

I close my eyes and breathe him in one last time before I drag myself away. I weave my way through the rows of partitions until I've joined the line to show my passport. Don't look back. If I see him again before I'm through security, I might become a puddle on the floor.

The security person gestures for me to join a line to send my things through the x-ray machine and metal detector. Just before I disappear inside the closed area, I glance back, and Simon is still at the back of the rows, a hand in his pocket, his other hand wiping his cheek, a lost expression on his face.

My heart. My fucking heart.

The urge to drop everything and run to him surges through me, and I step in the wrong direction.

We make eye contact, and he perks up. A hint of a grin tugs at the edges of his lips, and he blows me a kiss.

Instead of crying, an answering smile breaks out across my face. The unexpectedness of the gesture somehow makes me think we'll be okay. I blow one back, and the person behind me grumbles about 'holding up the line.' With a sigh and an almost unbearable tightness in my chest, I slip inside the enclosed area, and Simon is gone from my sight.

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