Page 121 of Road Trip to Forever
“Okay.” I hear his smile as he kisses my forehead. “I really, really,reallyliked it too.”
“Why are things so easy with you? It’s starting to scare me.”
“Because we’re soulmates, Lola,” Patrick answers without a moment of thought. He’s getting tired, his voice waning at the end of his sentences. His breathing has become steady, leveling out to soft puffs of air. “When you’re with the person who’s your perfect match, it’s effortless.”
Heismy soulmate. The missing piece I’ve been searching for, and all the while, he’s been right in front of me. Patiently waiting. Caring for me as if I was already his. Loving me in my darkest, most vulnerable state and never running away. Imagining a life without him even decades down the road already fills me with remorse and dread.
I plan to live every second with him like it’s my last. Appreciate every small moment, even the mundane and boring ones, because with him, life is never dull.
I love him. I love him, I love him, Ilove him,like I’ve never loved anyone else before. Like I’ll never love anyone else ever again. All the people in the world, and he’s mine.Mine, mine, mine.
It’s my favorite word.
THIRTY-FOUR
PATRICK
“Morning.”I stifle a yawn and wrap my arm around Lola’s waist, glancing around the busy room. “Ready for day two?”
“Yeah.” She pushes up on her toes and brushes her lips against mine. “I brought you another coffee.”
“An angel in the form of morning beverages,” I say as she hands me the large styrofoam cup. I can smell the caffeine through the plastic top and eagerly take a sip. “Ah. I’m revitalized.”
“That quick, huh?”
“I’m a simple man, Lola.”
“Sorry for leaving you in bed alone,” she says. “I hope you didn’t think I was bolting from you after last night. I was just excited to get down here and get started.”
Last night when we had the best sex of my life.
Three times.
In the bed. On the bathroom counter. Against the wall after our shower. I can’t get enough of Lola. I’m consumed by thoughts of her, if the pillows scattered around the room and the bottom sheet pulled off the corners of the mattress are any indication. I had to put the Do Not Disturb sign on our door when I left ten minutes ago, too embarrassed to have housekeeping come in and see the mess we’ve made of the place.
“I didn’t think that. I figured you wanted to get an early start today,” I say.
“I did. You also looked exhausted and I wanted to let you sleep as long as possible.” Lola touches my chest and runs her fingers over the stitching of my shirt. “Are you sure you don’t have any lingering symptoms from your migraine?”
“Honey, I think you fucked all the lingering symptoms away when you were riding me last night,” I say in a low voice, and she swats at my arm, a shade of red creeping up her neck. “I feel better than yesterday, Lo, and yesterday I felt great.”
“The second you start to feel crummy, I hope you’ll tell me,” she says.
“I promise. Do you need me to run back up to the room and grab you anything before the show starts or—”
“Thank god. There you are,” Janet, the show director, interrupts us. She puts the walkie talkie she’s holding in her pocket and looks down at her clipboard, rifling through the stack of papers. An assistant approaches behind her, holding one of Lola’s garment bags. Dread claws at the base of my spine as I take in their harried expressions. “We have a situation.”
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“We’re missing one of Lola’s models.”
Lola frowns. “What do you mean missing?”
“He’s not here.”
“Is he just late? There’s still ten minutes until the first designer walks.”
“Nope.” Janet shakes her head. I think she’s close to pulling her hair out or breaking her clipboard over her knee. I don’t think the poor wood would stand a chance. “Definitely not late. He’s not coming. Called and said he’s too hungover.”
