Page 166 of Riding the Sugar High

“My beard scratching your face?” I suggest.

“I love it. Not just on my face.”

Not now, I mentally bark at myself when I picture her pussy opened up for me. “An internet connection.”

“Turns out life without Wi-Fi isn’t so bad.”

We’re approaching the security lines now, and my heart is squeezing too hard to pretend this isn’t a big deal. She’s leaving, and she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

“I won’t miss the stupid way you kiss me.”

I look down at her, her teary eyes staring into mine.

“It’s the worst. The way you always need to touch me everywhere. How you cup my cheek like I’m precious. How you pick me up all the time, but always hold a hand over my skirt or dress to make sure nobody can see my underwear.”

I swallow hard.

“I won’t miss sleeping with you either, with all those cuddles. You always scratch my back and twist your legs around mine. You breathe me in and kiss me until I’m asleep.”

My eyes sting, but I try to smile. “I won’t miss talking to you.” When my voice nearly breaks, I clear my throat. “Your voice. Your questions. The million things going through your mind at any given moment. And I definitely won’t miss waking up next to you.”

“Morning breath?”

“The worst,” I lie. “And your hair is messy. Your boobs are pressing against me. You’re warm, with that peaceful expression on your face. Just...” Fuck, nowI’mgoing to cry. “Awful.”

“Yeah, you too.”

We stop, and suddenly, I realize there’s so much I forgot to tell her. Does she know I feel strong and confident whenever she calls me a cowboy? That every time she enjoys something I cook for her, it melts my heart? I don’t think I ever thanked her for keeping a vegan diet while she stayed with me. And I definitely didn’t tell her that she saved my life. That I will forever be grateful for it.

“I guess this is it,” she says. Tears are streaming down her face, but she’s almost expressionless, as if she’s not even sure it’s really happening.

“Yeah. For now.”

She nods, then turns to me, and knowing what she needs, I lean forward and pull her up, a hand on her ass as she winds her legs around me.

“I wish we’d gone out on your bike more,” she says. She chuckles, but a sob breaks through. “That we’d kissed more. And spent more time with your friends, and with the animals, and at the valley, and?—”

“We’ll do it all. This isn’t the end.”

She nods, nuzzling her face into my shoulder, and for a minute or two, I let her cry into my jacket. All her sorrows pour out as her shoulders shake, and I fight against my own painful breakdown.

I refuse to cry because this isn’t the end.

“Okay, come on.” I rub her back, then her hair. “Enough with this. Go, and call me when you get home tonight. All right?”

She nods, wiping her tears away, then her lips are on me a million times before she slides down. I kiss her again, then again, until shereallyneeds to go, or she’ll miss her flight.

“Do great things, okay?” I say as she takes a step back.

She nods and, with one last look, joins the line.

But the gut-wrenching fear that this is the last time I see her kicks the breath out of me.

“Barbie,” I call, though most of the crowd turns to me. I walk over to meet her, thanking the couple of people who’ve already lined up behind her when they let me through.

Her nose is red, sobs shaking her shoulders. “Wh-what is it?”

I take my jacket off. “Take this.”

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