Yours, Forever, page 11
He kept them. He kept all of them. I reach over and hit the arrow key, bringing up the next one. And the next one. And the next. My loopy handwriting scrawls across each and every page, ending with "Yours, forever" on every single one.
Yours, forever.
Yours, forever.
Yours, forever.
He slips a hand around my waist and pulls me in close as my eyes fly across the screen. "You kept all of them?"
"Of course I did." He smiles down at me. "I loved you so much, Brooke. I don't think I even knew what love really was, not back then. But I do now. And I know that I love you."
Love? Present-tense? A slip of the tongue, maybe? Every possible explanation races through my mind until he crashes into me with a deep, soul-stealing kiss. His hands race over my body and clamp down, holding me, worshiping me. I don't even realize I'm holding him, too, until my fingers are tangled in his chestnut hair and pulling him closer, harder, more, more, more—
Maybe it's fucking stupid of me to want this. Maybe it's stupid of me to throw caution to the wind. Maybe it's stupid of me to want to figure out how we can make this thing between us work.
But god, I want it. I want him. I want this. I want us. I don't want to pick up where we left off, pretending that over a decade of life didn't happen. I want us, with all of our flaws and experience, to come back together with new hope and new dreams.
If only it were that simple.
"I love you, too," I murmur between frantic kisses. "God, I love you, too."
"Oh, I really hoped you would." He pulls back and smiles with sparkling tears gathering in his eyes. "I missed you. I missed you so much. And I'm so proud of everything you've accomplished. You're amazing."
"Really? I don't feel like I've accomplished much, I mean—"
"No. Stop. Listen to me. You graduated with honors and a CompSci degree. You didn't come back to our tiny-ass hometown. You stayed in New York, and you made it. You're amazing at your job—your name floated around the Atmosphere office before I knew who you were. Your team loves you. They respect you. Sure, you had some setbacks, but you rolled with them, and you pulled yourself up. I am so, so proud of you, Brooke."
His words roll over me like a perfectly warm blanket straight out of the dryer. And then the tears come again. I'm sobbing into his chest, shaking and crying, as he gently strokes my back and whispers quiet "I love you"s.
"I'm sorry I keep crying into your shirts," I squeak out between sniffles.
"Don't be. There's a washing machine. Are my shirts, um, absorbent enough? I can grab tissues?"
My wracking sobs turn to laughter at this beautiful, incredible, unintentionally hilarious man. "I love you so much, Dustin."
"I love you so much, too."
Dustin
Waking up without Brooke next to me feels weird. I don't like it. I hated walking her to the train station last night. I hated watching her get on the train. I hated waiting for her to text me that she got home safe.
I did like the picture of Huey she sent, though. I wonder if he'd like Chicago?
I'm still thinking about the logistics of cross-country cat travel when I arrive at work bright and early Monday morning. The people I've come to know nod and smile at me as I make my way to the conference room. The groggy "on my way" text from Brooke is the latest I've heard from her, but I can't keep checking my phone all the time. It's best to just settle in and do my job, like the lost love of my life didn't waltz right back in and tell me she loves me too last night.
Which, you know, super easy to just ignore.
Logging in to my computer, I see piles and piles of emails coming through. Status reports. Status requests. Proposed frameworks for integrating DropTop into the Atmosphere ecosystem based on the investigations and reports I've provided. It's also time for the mandatory training, it seems. I've been assigned my personal favorite (Anti-Bribery training) as well as Sexual Harassment for Management.
That one always makes me laugh because the title seems so silly. It's like it might tell me how managers should sexually harass. It isn't, obviously, that would be obscene and horrific. I jot down a note in my daily to-do list to run through the trainings before the end of the week.
My phone buzzes on the table, and I jump to snatch it up.
Brooke
Be my date on the cruise?
Cruise? What cruise? Just as I start to wonder, another email notification pops up.
Subject: Atmosphere x DropTop – Welcome ABOARD!
Good morning, DropTop team!
To celebrate the joining of our two companies, Atmosphere has reserved a dinner cruise ship for the whole team. We will have your Engineering Onboarding contact in attendance: Dustin Sanders, who you have already met.
Also joining you will be our CEO, Kent St. Clair, as well as the outgoing CEO of DropTop, Travis Bellardi.
We hope you enjoy yourselves and the sights of both the Hudson and East Rivers.
To RSVP, please email Nora Raines (nora.raines@droptop.io) with your name and how many people will be in your party. Maximum party: 4 guests.
Welcome aboard, DropTop!
Regards,
Atmosphere Global Team
Wow. Wow, yes, I will be Brooke's date.
Wouldn't miss it for the world.
Yay!
Well, that puts a pep in my step. I'm still smiling to myself when I make the rounds and stop into the kitchen for my morning coffee. Would Brooke mind if I used some of her brown sugar? I'll get her another bag if she's upset.
"Hey, good morning!" Brooke's voice sings out, and I whip around, nearly spilling the freshly brewed cup.
"Hey, yourself. How about that cruise, huh?"
"I know, right? Oh! Have you seen Darrell yet? I want to ask about the birthday party." She beams happily. God, I love seeing her happy like this.
"Not yet, but I'll keep an eye out." I think for a second. "Actually, you'll probably see him before I do."
"Right. Well, anyway. I'm super excited for the cruise—do you think there's going to be an open bar? Have you been to one of these before?" She leans back on the counter and smiles. "I've kind of always wanted to go on one of those dinner cruises, but it always felt too extravagant."
I shake my head. "No, nothing like this. The welcome party is usually at a hotel ballroom, though there is usually an open bar. Maybe I'll finally get to see the best dancer in the world—or was it the planet?"
"Oh, my god, stop." She laughs until Darrell walks in.
"Well! How adorable this is, you high school besties. Dustin, you'll be on the cruise?" He smirks knowingly, like he's uncovered some deep secret. Hell, as far as he knows, he has.
"That's what the email says. Plus, I think Brooke would throttle me if I didn't show."
"Oh, you love it. We'll have a great time," Brooke says with a cheeky grin. "Darry, are you bringing Jerry and Fiona? Oh! How was the birthday party? Did she like the cupcakes? Tell me everything!" Brooke and Darrell leave the kitchen, chatting up a storm about the little girl's party.
Damn, she's good. I have no idea how she does it, but she masterfully redirected the conversation—unless that was for my benefit? Maybe she's about to tell Darrell and the team about every embarrassing, stupid thing I did in high school? I stifle a groan. Cross that bridge when we come to it, I guess.
"Have you had lunch yet?" Brooke pokes her head into the conference room where I've been elbow-deep in spreadsheets all morning.
"Not yet. You?"
"I was just going to grab a sushi lunch from one of the places downstairs. Want me to grab you anything?"
"Yeah, sure. Salmon rolls, if they have it?"
She gives me a pointed look. "Dustin. This is the Chelsea Market. In New York City. Of course, they have it."
"Right." I snicker. "Keep the receipt, and I'll pay you back."
She rolls her eyes. "Like hell, you will."
Before I can argue against her, she disappears down the hall and is quickly replaced by Darrell. He gives me a big smile and an overly joyful wave. My hand jerks up and waves back stiffly, more out of habit than anything.
"So! High school bestie. What a crazy world, right?" He plops down in the chair at the far end of the table across from me, adjusting the collar of his button-down shirt. "And you're getting awfully cozy again, huh?"
"I'm… not sure what you mean," I stammer, flicking my gaze back to my computer screen. "What Brooke and I had back then was great—"
"So, you admit that you had something together? How incredibly interesting."
"Sorry, Darrell, I don't quite understand what's happening here." I furrow my brow and cross my arms. "If you're implying there's something unprofessional at play, then I would suggest you discuss with your People Team representative."
"No—" He stops himself and sighs. "I didn't mean anything like that, Dustin. I'm sorry. I haven't seen Brooke this happy in a long time, to be honest. She put on a brave face ever since her divorce, but she's smiling these days. Like actually smiling, no real reason, just all the time. And the way you looked at her like she hung the moon when you brought cupcakes to Fiona's party?"
"Uh."
"I'm not saying anything is going on. I just knew there had to be something in your past besides high school best friends. Can I take a guess?" He spreads his hands wide. "You had it bad for her, and she didn't know you existed."
I snort. "Oh, she knew I existed. She enjoyed my existence quite often, I might add."
He laughs with a bit of a sparkle in his eye. "Good for you, buddy. Listen, I'm not here to rain on any parades or throw any accusations around. I'm just saying, whatever you're doing? Keep it up. And if you hurt her, well, my husband knows several undisclosed locations where you'd never be found again."
"You can be a little bit scary when you're serious."
"I know." He rises from his seat and raps the table with his knuckles. "Hey, do you think there's going to be an open bar on this cruise?"
"I'd bet on it."
Turning back to my laptop, I feel a little bit lighter. Keep doing what I'm doing? That's easy enough. I love making Brooke happy, and it seems her team loves seeing her happy. This is going to be amazing.
Throughout the week, Brooke keeps sending me screenshots of various dresses she's considering for the cruise party. Every single one of them is fantastic—obviously—and I'm really no help in picking. But it does make me think about what I should wear. Would it be too much to try to coordinate styles?
Wait, that's a bad idea. While Darrell and the team are happy about Brooke's happiness, that doesn't mean we should start flaunting our relationship. What is our relationship, though? What do I do when it's time to leave? Hoist her over my shoulder and take her back to Chicago? I have to admit, the idea is more and more attractive. Does Huey travel well? Do I need to get some kind of kitty-xanax prescription for him?
Those thoughts roll around in my mind as I sit on the sofa in my corporate apartment, absentmindedly stabbing at my salad. Okay, priorities. First, something appropriate for me to wear. Everything I packed for the trip is the usual: business casual wear and seasonal choices. I'm not entirely sure of the dress code for this party. I wish they made these things more obvious.
That's what I like about working in offices, anyway. Corporate life has a strict set of rules that need to be adhered to. I am very good at adhering to rules—my current situation with Brooke notwithstanding—and it just makes sense. Clean appearance, do your best at the job, look for process improvements, and you're golden. It's worked for me, anyway.
And I am deeply looking forward to a specific process improvement. Namely, asking Brooke to be my girlfriend. Again. It's a bit silly to be worrying about this at the ripe old age of thirty-two, but here I am. What if I've severely misread the signs? What if she meant she loves me as a friend? What if she fucked my brains out (multiple times) to be polite?
I need to talk to Alicia. After fumbling with my phone for a few seconds, it rings twice before she picks up, sounding a bit harried.
"What's up?" she asks. I can hear Orion and Nova babbling together in the background.
"Is this a bad time?" I wince.
"I mean—kind of. But if it's important, I can make time. Hey, kids? Mommy's gonna take a shower. Orion, you're in charge."
I stifle a laugh as Orion shouts triumphantly. "I just, uh, well. You know how you told me to keep it in my pants?"
"And we established that you didn't do that? Yes, I remember very clearly. Why?" Her tone drops. "Do I need to fight Brooke?"
"No," I groan. "No, no fighting. I'm just… I have a lot of emotions right now. And you know I'm not especially, um, good at that."
"So, have you planned the wedding in your head?"
"Yes." Shit! "I mean, no. What? What are you talking about?"
Her muffled sigh crackles in the phone speaker. "Jesus, Dustin. What do you want me to say? That we all knew Brooke would come back, and you'd get your happily ever after? That she's the only person who'd ever put up with your bullshit? That Mom will be overjoyed?"
"Mean. But yes, I'd like to hear that very much." I fidget with the hem of my shirt.
"Well, I won't lie to you. I didn't think she'd come back to you. I didn't think you'd take her back. But, of course, Mom will be overjoyed, and Brooke really is the only person on earth who'd put up with your ass long-term." Alicia snickers. "So, what are you going to do?"
"I was hoping you'd have some ideas."
"You know her better than I do. God, Dusty, I haven't seen her in years. What's she like these days?"
"The same, but different." I mull the concept of Brooke over, as if she could be described in a single sentence. "She's just… her. She married some guy, some asshole that cheated on her. Now, she's divorced. She's got a great job and a team that would fight wars for her. Oh, she's got a cat, too. Huey."
"Huey? Like, as in Lewis and the News?" My sister laughs. "That's so her."
"I think I love her, Alicia."
Silence hangs between us. I check to make sure my phone didn't drop the call, but the timer keeps counting the seconds.
"Did you tell her?" Her voice is soft and wistful, like she's scared of what I might say.
"Yes." I hope I made the right choice.
"Did she say anything back?"
"She said she loves me, too."
Brooke
Janine sits on my loveseat, petting Huey, absolutely dumbstruck. Her wide brown eyes stare at me, unblinking.
"What?"
"What do you mean, what? You fucking idiot!" she whisper-yells. "You drop the L-bomb, and you only tell me now? Do you hate me?"
"No! What? No!" I wring my hands. "It was just… it was just so much, Janine. It was so good. He makes me feel alive again—like everything might be okay. Like I can do this. I have been doing this! And maybe it all won't come crashing down?"
"First of all, you do not need a man to feel alive. And if you do, I'd like to introduce you to a very luxurious line of battery-operated boyfriends. Mine is named Steve." She looks at me pointedly.
"Who could forget Steve?" I mumble. "Remember when you used him as a fake microphone for drunken karaoke?"
"Yes, I do." She smiles happily. "He's multifaceted."
"A true renaissance man." I pause and pick at a hangnail on my thumb. "And I don't need a man to feel alive. It's just… I don't know. I don't know how to explain it."
"So fuckin' try, bitch."
I sigh. How can I explain that Dustin is… Dustin? He's the same person he's always been, just more mature. He listens. He learns. He helped me bake for Fiona's birthday. He's held me while I cry over fucking Calvin, of all people, multiple times. Damn it all, he just makes me happy. He makes me feel capable, which I already know I am.
Dustin would never make me feel like a checkbox on his life plan. He'd never stick his nose up at my baking. He'd never belittle my career aspirations—he'd be right there behind me, cheering me on the whole way. And I want to cheer him on, too. I want to be a team with him, like I never was with Calvin. He's the polar opposite of Calvin in pretty much every way.
"He makes me happy," is all I can force out.
"Well, thank fuck for that." She grimaces. "I need a drink. What do you have around here?"
"Brooke?" Ricky tentatively knocks at my door. Uncharacteristically polite for him. "You have a visitor."
"She sure does," Janine calls out. "Got any liquor, Rick?"
"For you? Always," Ricky says as he slams open my door. "That guy is back, too."
"Uh, hi." Dustin edges himself around Ricky and into my room.
Jesus, God, and Mary. This is not the Thursday night I was imagining. I drop my head into my hands and groan. "Thank you, Ricky."
"Y'know what? I think I need to help you find the liquor." Janine hops up from my couch and smiles warmly at Ricky, which is a weird thing to see. Does she know he drinks spaghetti sauce?
He says something else to her as they scurry away, but I don't hear it. When I look up from my hands, all I see is Dustin.
"Uh, hi," he repeats. "Um, I wanted to—I mean, I talked to my sister, and—shit. You know I love you, right?"
"Oh, god." I plop onto my bed. Nothing good ever starts with you know I love you, right? "Here it comes. Just rip off the band-aid, Dustin."
"What?" He scampers over and kneels in front of me. "I don't know what you think I mean, but I do love you. And I was thinking, and then I called my sister, and I just… needed to see you. I do love you, Brooke. I think I always have. I want our relationship to continue after I leave. Whether that means long distance, or I apply for a transfer to the NYC office, or you move to Chicago—really, any of those options. I just know that I want you, Brooke."
