Halfway to You(91)

I surged forward and kissed him.

I don’t know what came over me, only that I was sick of the back-and-forth. Sick of not getting what I wanted. Sick of airports, planes, phones, and misunderstandings. Sick of fighting against what I wanted instead of for it.

In a way, that was my Jane moment after all. I took what I wanted.

The kiss surprised us both, but his arms were quick to accept me, and his mouth opened to devour mine. We stumbled toward the bed. He unzipped my dress, and it pooled around my ankles. I yanked his shirt over his head, and he unbuttoned his pants. Naked, we tumbled onto the duvet and crashed together with a blend of passion and anger and sorrow and all the many sorrys we’d never spoken aloud. We crashed together as only a wave and a beach could, mingling like the rush and froth of the tide. Todd was rearranging the pieces of me once more—but this time, I was thinking to myself: Yes. Flow over me like the sea. I am sand—I am meant for this. What is a beach without the tide, anyhow?

When it was over, I lay flat on my back, staring at the ceiling. In the silence, I heard the ocean roaring in my ears—or perhaps it was my blood. My heart stung as if it’d been doused in salt water. Todd lay beside me in the same position, not touching me. I was caught between the fury of reality and the comfort of a dream.

But I had to wake up. I had to know: “The woman who . . . Do you care for her?”

Todd rolled onto his side to face me. “It was a one-night thing. A mistake.”

“Todd . . .” I trailed off.

“I know. It’s awful.”

“Does Keith know?”

“Not the details.”

I sat up, stood, dragging the sheet with me, wrapping it around myself. I walked to the window and peered through the thin gap between the curtains. I didn’t know if children were in my future—I was forty, after all, and uncertain about my fertility—but thinking that another woman had not only been naked with Todd but gotten pregnant with his child . . . it bothered me. It bothered me, in part, because maybe that was something I wanted with Todd. I couldn’t see a future with other men, but when I pictured Todd and me together, our future was as clear in my mind as sunshine on a cloudless day.

He came up beside me. “I’m sorry I left you there alone.”

I nodded stiffly, staring at the late-night brake lights darting on the street below.

“The only question is, Can you forgive me?” He dropped to his knees, then. I found it strange, looking down at him; I wasn’t used to seeing his face from that angle. “Can you forgive me? Could you still love me? Because I wasn’t kidding when I said that you’re it for me.”

I took stock of it all. He hadn’t cheated on me. He hadn’t even lied to me. I was still upset over Tahiti, but I began to wonder if this was something Todd and I could move past. We had been so close to going the distance—it seemed a shame to let an accident steal that away from us.

How many years had I already spent laughing with him, being vulnerable with him, sharing my life with him? I thought back to my book tour in Colorado; he hadn’t seen me in years, and yet he’d wanted to support my career. I thought back to our long correspondence and the news of my mother’s death; he’d flown to me at the drop of a hat, to comfort me in my grief. Even Mohonk was, at first, a sacrifice he’d made for me; he had known how much I’d cherish a family Christmas and tried to set aside his own heartache to enjoy it with me. Even tonight—it had been the wrong sort of gesture, but it was still a gesture. An effort.

Through ups and downs, secrets and misunderstandings, time and distance, letters and visits, Todd had always been there for me. When it came down to it, I couldn’t imagine any scenario in which I stopped loving him. I’d loved him for the better part of fifteen years. If I hadn’t stopped by then, maybe I never would. Like the curtains in that hotel room, my optimism hadn’t drawn completely closed. There was still a gap, and hope streamed in.

I looked down at him, then, and smoothed his hair, my fingers lingering by his ear. “I will never not love you,” I whispered.

He made a soft little sound, halfway between a gasp and a moan. Alleviation. He hugged my legs, kissed my stomach. “I’m sorry, Copper. For all of it.”

I grasped his shoulder, urging him up. He rose above me, drew me against his chest, and held me close. “You’re the only one I love,” Todd said. “You’re the only one on the planet.”





MAGGIE


San Juan Island, Washington State, USA Friday, January 12, 2024

“Is this okay?” Ann asks, and for a moment Maggie thinks her question is still part of her story. “Maggie?”

“Oh, hmm? Is what okay?”

Ann leans forward and clasps her hands. “Hearing about Todd like this.”

Maggie swallows a prickly lump in her throat. “Don’t censor the story for me.”

Ann frowns in an odd, tense sort of way. “Just making sure.”





ANN


Los Angeles, California, USA

October 1999

By the window, Todd held me for a long time. Cars continued to slow and accelerate below; red brakes and white beams blinked in the light-polluted city night. We rocked there by the curtains, seeing out, watching and not watching the world continue on, wishing we could hit pause forever.