You Promised Me Forever (Forever Yours #1)(66)

“You keep repeating yourself,” Livvy says, yawning yet again. “And he’s definitely coming back. His suitcase is there. He needs his stuff.”

“Right, but maybe he doesn’t need me.” Tears spring to my eyes, and I blink them away. I haven’t cried over this yet, and I don’t want to start now. But as more time passes, the more worried I become. “I should’ve just told him I loved him.”

“Do you love him?” Livvy asks, sounding genuinely curious.

“I’ve always been in love with him,” I admit. “It’s like my feelings for him were lying dormant in my mind and the minute I heard from him, talked to him, saw him, all those emotions came flooding back.”

“You should tell him that,” Livvy says. “Well, when he eventually returns to your hotel room.”

“What if he never returns?” I practically wail, flopping backwards on the bed. I stare up at the ceiling, my mind racing. I wish he would walk through that door right now. I want him in this room, standing in front of me so I can tell him how sorry I am for saying all those stupid things. And then I can kiss him and touch him and admit my true feelings for him.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Livvy says, being that blunt, unflinching friend you need in situations like this. “Stop wallowing in self-pity and go find him.”

“How can I find him? I’m in a foreign city! I have no idea where he is,” I say, feeling helpless.

“Text him. Call him and profess your love. And if he doesn’t answer, leave him a voicemail and tell him how you feel. Confess everything. He won’t be able to resist you if you cut your chest wide open and bleed out your love for him,” Livvy says.

What an image. “Ew. That’s somehow grotesque and beautiful, all at once,” I tell her.

“That’s what love is. It’s messy and beautiful and awful and exhilarating.” Livvy’s voice goes soft. “It’s scary. But wouldn’t you rather take the risk and tell him how you really feel versus possibly losing him forever?”

Her words make my heart ache. “What if I’ve already lost him forever?” I whisper, my stomach twisting at the mere thought.

“You haven’t,” Livvy says without hesitation. “He hasn’t given up on you that quick. Trust me.”

Her words linger in my head long after we end our call. She’s right. I need to tell him how I feel. I need to pour my heart out to him and reassure him I’m really not scared. I just…he was right. I freaked out and said dumb stuff that I wish I could take back.

Grabbing my phone, I call him, waiting anxiously for him to answer.

But it goes straight to voicemail. I clutch the phone tightly as I listen to his deep voice say, Sorry I can’t take your call right now. Leave me a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.

The tone sounds, and I start talking.

“Hey. I don’t know where you are, but I hope you’re not mad at me. I just—panicked. And I said stupid things. All those old insecurities resurfaced, when I should’ve never doubted what you said. I don’t really believe we’re moving too fast. I’ve always had feelings for you, Jordan. I missed you so much these past six years, and having you back in my life feels so right. So perfect. I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose you. I—”

Another tone sounds, the phone clicks, and the call is over.

“Shit!” I toss my phone onto the bed in frustration and close my eyes, fighting my tears yet again. I don’t want to cry. I refuse to cry. He’ll show up. I know he will. I know he…

A horn sounds once. Twice. Over and over again, insistent. Urgent.

I hear a voice.

“Amanda!”

Jordan’s? Over a loudspeaker?

I climb out of bed and go to the window, shoving the curtains back. There’s a double decker red tour bus idling by the curb. The second level is uncovered, the seats filled with people, and Jordan is standing in the middle of the aisle clutching a microphone, his focus zeroed in on our hotel window.

His gaze immediately finds me and he speaks into the microphone.

“Open the window, babe.”

Reaching for the lock, I undo it with shaky fingers and slide the window open, gasping when the cold air hits my face. I can smell the exhaust from the idling bus, hear the traffic in the near distance, even the low murmur of the tourists on the upper level of the bus talking to each other with their heads bent close.

“She opened the window,” Jordan tells them and they all lift their heads, their gazes on me as they start cheering.

My cheeks go hot and I slap my hands against them, not sure what to do or say. My heart is thumping wildly and Jordan’s gaze never leaves mine as he starts to talk.

“Yo, Mandy,” he calls out to me with a giant smile.

“Yo, Tuttle,” I call back, grinning stupidly as I rest my hands on the edge of the window and lean my head out.

“Remember how I told you I didn’t want to ride one of these buses because I didn’t want anyone to recognize me?” he asks.

I nod. “Yeah.” I’m shouting, but how else can he hear me?

“Well, I don’t care if they recognize me. Some of them know who I am, but most of them don’t care, because they’re from another country. None of that matters, though. You want to know why?” he asks.