Part 27 (1/2)
The cab ride to our hotel, situated in the heart of Copley Square, is quick. Along the way, I can't stop staring out the window as we pa.s.s new structures, old, brick buildings, and Fenway Park. Adrian would have loved to see the historic baseball field. He would have clamored for us all to do a tour and would have posed for photos in front of the banners announcing all of the Red Sox World Series wins.
Our hotel is in a perfect location, walking distance to all the major attractions and also really close to a subway/T line. When we enter the bedroom, Zack drops our bags in a heap in the corner before toeing off his shoes and digging through his suitcase for winter boots and extra socks. I take in the room, my eyes immediately zeroing in on the king-sized bed. Suddenly, I feel nervous, shy. I'm on an actual getaway with a boy. And not just any boy, but my boyfriend, a guy I really care about. A guy I'm falling in love with. A man I hope to build a future with.
And here we are, sharing a hotel room, sharing a bed, like some couple who has been together forever. Comfortable in each other's presence, relaxing into the silences that stretch between us, sharing our darkest secrets, our deepest fears.
I perch on the edge of the bed as Zack comes toward me. He leans down placing his palms flat on either side of me and kisses me. I moan into his mouth automatically, startled that he elicits this type of reaction from me without even trying, without even really touching me. Whenever he's near, it's like my body senses him, is tuned in to him, and hums with a desire that borders on necessity. Now that I've had him, he's all I can think of. Zack Huntington consumes me and heals me all at the same time.
”Come,” he says, pulling back and extending his hand to me. ”If we don't leave now, we'll spend the whole day in bed.” He laughs. ”Not that that would be a bad thing, but we've got a city to conquer and crab cakes to eat.”
I laugh and let him pull me up. Wrapping a heavy scarf around my neck, I pull my hair out and zip up my jacket. When we're both completely bundled, only our eyes, noses, and mouths visible, we take the elevators to the ground floor and step out into the freezing, biting cold, even though on the inside I'm burning up from Zack's touch, his glance, and just from being near him.
Chapter Fifty-Five.
Zack
Walking around Boston with Maura's hand tucked in my own is incredible. Every now and then, I glance over at her, enjoying all of her faces and reactions as she takes in the historical sites I point out. After only thirty minutes outside, we duck into a coffee shop and Maura orders a hot chocolate with the sole purpose of keeping her hands warm.
Going to Boston in December is just plain stupid. But I don't care. And I don't think Maura does either. One day we'll look back on this stretch of days and laugh at our craziness, our desperation to just be together, to do something new. One day, we'll tell our kids or grandkids that this is where we finally admitted the truth to ourselves, to each other. That we're in love.
I definitely don't expect to hear her say the words first. But that's what happens. We're standing in line at Mike's Pastry, waiting to order cannolis and cappuccinos for lunch before we tour the entire city and dine on New England clam chowder and crab cakes at the Atlantic Fish Co. for dinner.
Anyway, we're standing just inside the pastry shop, the cold wind blowing through the door each time a patron enters or exists. Maura's hand is clenched in my own, both tucked in the pocket of my thick Canada Goose jacket. Her hot chocolate cup is still in her other hand, and she keeps blowing on it even though it has to be cold by now. Her eyes are scanning the long list of cannoli flavors on the wall behind the counter. Suddenly, she turns toward me, her dark eyes wide and bright, her black hair failing around her shoulders in soft waves. ”I love you. Do you know that?” she says so bluntly I'm surprised.
But then, not really. Because this is Maura we're talking about, and she never says anything I expect her to. Never responds that way I think she will.
I bite the inside of my cheek as I stare at her, etch every single detail of her face into my memory. The surprise and seriousness of her stare, the way she keeps working her lower lip between her teeth, how her head tilts slightly to the left as she waits for me to say something. Nodding, I squeeze her hand in my coat pocket. ”Yeah. I know. And just so you know, I love you more.”
A smile breaks out across her lips, brightening her whole face. She rocks toward me and stands on her tippy-toes. I bring my right hand up to cup the side of her face just as her lips collide with mine.
A few whistles ring out from the waiting customers standing in line with us, and we pull back, laughing.
”You're crazy,” I tell her.
”You're weird,” she counters.
And I kiss her again, never able to get enough of her.
We finally make it to the front of the line and order cannolis (chocolate chip, Nutella, and ricotta) and cappuccinos. Carrying our pastry box to Faneuil Hall marketplace, we sit on a bench in the middle of the town square and s.h.i.+ver together, eating pastries as our fingers freeze, immersing ourselves in the warmth of each other's kisses.
We smile at each other as if we can't believe it's for real. That this moment and all the moments leading up to now are our reality. Falling in love is like that. It's everything at once and even though most of the time you can't tell which way is up, it's so good that you don't want to. It's sweet and crazy and challenging and hilarious. It sneaks up on you and suddenly you don't want to pa.s.s another day without that person by your side. Some people, they can pinpoint the exact moment they fell in love. Others don't know exactly when it happened, just that when it did they never wanted to lose it.
For me, I think I started falling for Maura that day we went mini-golfing. I didn't admit it at the time, but since that morning when she walked to my SUV and lifted her fingers in a wave, I was hooked. Secretly, I think I knew she was for me the whole time, always meant to be mine. In fact, I think I knew it all the while.
Chapter Fifty-Six.
Maura
Telling Zack I love him is one of the scariest, most exhilarating, best moments of my life. I can't believe the words pop out of my mouth until they do but in the instants that follow, I couldn't take them back even if I wanted to. Because they're true. I love him. I'm in love with him. And that feeling, taking that giant leap into a gallant freefall, is too sweet not to cherish. So I tell him. And when he says it back, it's like being hugged tightly after taking the giant leap. It's everything.
We walk around the city for hours after consuming an absurd amount of calories from Mike's Pastry. Zack shows me Paul Revere's house, the Cheer's pub, the cemetery that holds Sam Adams. We meander around the MIT and Harvard campuses, duck into random coffee shops for hot chocolate refills, and spend hours in the Boston aquarium. Walking up Newbury Street, we window shop and randomly buy winter gear like extra scarves and hats and gloves to keep us warm from the freezing cold.
We act like tourists, giddy and laughing and joking about nothing. Or maybe we act like college kids in love for the first time. Either way, my cheeks ache from my constant smiling and my heart feels lighter than it has in a long, long time.
At night, after a delicious meal of clam chowder and Zack's prized crab cakes, we snuggle beneath the covers of our king-sized bed. I press my cold toes against the warm skin of Zack's legs and he laughs, drawing me into his arms. We lose ourselves in each other's touches and kisses until the early morning light draws shadows on the walls. Lying there, with my head sharing Zack's pillow, listening to the quiet rhythm of his breath rising and falling, I finally allow myself to revel in the certainty of a future I ignored for far too long.
Now, my future is intertwined with Zack's. And that, that makes all the difference.
Chapter Fifty-Seven.
Zack
”Merry Christmas!” Dad's voice rings out, interrupting Mom's singing as she hums along with the radio, as he pa.s.ses out the Christmas presents scattered under the tree.
Nicole rolls her eyes, taking the box from his hands. ”Another one for me!” She sticks her tongue out in my direction, placing the present in her pile of gifts.
”Sorry, dear, that one's for Maura,” Mom says gently, removing the gift from Nicole's pile and adding it back to the presents nestled next to the manger.
I laugh at Nicole's expression, and she reaches over to punch me in the arm.
”I swear you two still act the same as you did when you were eight and nine years old on Christmas morning.” Mom attempts to scold us but her face beams with delight. These are the moments she lives for, and who are Nicole and I to get in the way of that?
”Thanks, Dad.” I take the gift he offers me, noting the expertly tucked and taped wrapping. ”Mom really needs to be a grandmother so you better get on it,” I whisper to Nicole, holding up one of the boxes that is covered in ribbons and bows.
Nicole rolls her eyes. ”You may beat me to that.” She jokes.