“You’re…you’re leaving?” I ask, my voice hollow to my own ears as I watch him pack from the doorway.
“I gotta go, baby,” he replies easily, folding one of his shirts, one of the one’s I bought him, one of his favorites, and he lays it gingerly into the case. “I got meetings in Brentwood and then this thing in Vegas.”
My heart tugs. I hate it when he leaves. I hate that his job has him all over the place and not with me always. I still don’t know how I went ten years without him. He looks up and his face softens and it’s only then I realize I’m frowning, well, pouting really. I bite my lip and look away.
“I’ll be back in a few days, Sky,” he says softly, and when I don’t look at him I hear him sigh, his feet padding across the carpet as he comes to me. “I have to be,” he tips my chin up and my eyes crash into his. “We’re leaving for your parents place, remember?”
He smiles and I can’t keep from smiling myself. He brings his lips to mine and I let myself get lost in it for a moment before he pulls back and rubs his thumb along my cheek bone before going back to his suitcase.
“Is your meeting important?” I ask, chewing on my bottom lip and he smiles.
“I’m draggin’ myself away from you, aren’t I,” he smirks and I blush.
He’s good at that. Making me feel like I’m the most important thing in his life. I’m not. But he still makes me feel that way. With Justin, his career is number one. But he loves me. He adores me. I’m the closest any woman has gotten to number one and the fact that he was comfortable enough with me to tell me this is a blessing in itself. So I don’t mind not being first, because he makes me feel that way anyway.
But I want him to stay. It’s selfish, I know. But part of me, that ten year old girl that stands on the front porch of a little farm house in West Virginia watching her father’s car drive away, never wants him to go. I want him to stay when I ask him to. I want him to want to be with me always. But I don’t tell him this. I barely tell myself this. It makes me feel needy and broken and neither of us needs that.
“Come on, Sky,” he sighs as he zips up his bag, “don’t make that face.”
“What face?” I ask, trying to pull my features into something different but I’m not sure if I accomplish it.
“The ‘you just kicked my puppy’ face,” he sighs, a small smile tugging at his lips and I glare at him.
“I did not,” I argue, a smile pulling at my lips and he grins.
“Put whatever spin you want on it, babe,” he replies, condescension in his voice and I scowl at him but it melts when he walks past me and pecks my cheek affectionately.
I follow him through the living room of my apartment. Well, our apartment really but we don’t call it that. He stays here when he’s in town. He keeps his clothes here, his shirts in my closet, his underwear next to mine in the drawer. His toothbrush is next to mine in my little holder and his shoes are taking up the majority of my closet. He lives here. But he’s a man so he needs to think he doesn’t. I kinda love that about him really. How completely committed he is but how he kids himself into thinking he’s not.
“I’ll be back in a few days,” he says when we reach the door and as he opens it he pauses and cups my cheek in his large hand. “I’ll miss you.”
I smile up at him, standing on my tip toes to kiss him. He deepens it, dropping his bag to the floor with a thud, allowing him to wrap his arms fully around me, pressing my body to his. My palms flatten against his back as his tongue dips in to taste me and I can tell this could go somewhere pretty fast. His fingertips dig into my lower back as he pulls away breathlessly, licking his lips and I reach up to kiss him again softly.
“I’m gonna miss my flight,” he chuckles and I sigh, nodding slightly.
He picks up his bag and kisses me softly on the cheek as he steps out the door and moves to walk toward the elevator. He pauses, frowning and turns the other direction to take the stairs instead. He grins at me sheepishly as he passes. He told me once he doesn’t do elevators when leaving if he can help it.
“Justin,” I say just as he’s pushing the door open to the stairwell and he looks back at me questioningly. I bite my lip. “Don’t go.”
It’s quiet and kind of pitiful and I hate myself for doing this to him. His eyes soften and he walks back to me, cupping my face in his hand again. He kisses my forehead, both my eyelids, the tip of my nose and eventually my mouth before he speaks.
“Skylar, I have to go,” he says, his voice soft and deep and I sigh, nodding.
“I know, I’m sorry. I know you hate it when I do this,” I say, looking down at his pristine sneakers.
“It’s okay,” he replies, his nose nuzzling mine and then he hooks his finger under my chin, forcing my eyes to meet his. “Three days,” he says, his eyes boring into mine and I smile, nodding. “I’ll call you when I get off the plane, okay?”
“Okay,” I say nodding and he grins.
“That’s my girl.”
I giggle as he tilts his head, nibbling at my neck a little before pulling back and grabbing his bag again. I softly call goodbye and he raises his hand in acknowledgement but does not look back, not trusting himself to leave if he does.
