"Probably." He didn't hang up.
I thought about Ro, who hadn't gotten to choose. I thought about tomorrow, when Joel would be here in my house, and I wouldn't have to pretend.
"I'll see you tomorrow," I said.
"Yeah." He smiled, tired, the makeup fully gone now, his face bare and open on my screen. "See you tomorrow."
I hung up and sat there in the dark for a long time, the phone warm in my hand.
The plane landed at 4:47 a.m.
I hadn't slept. The flight was barely ninety minutes, but I'd tried anyway, and every time I closed my eyes I saw Red's face on my phone screen. So I stayed awake instead, watching the dark landscape scroll by below.
The Las Vegas airport was nearly empty at this hour. A few red-eye travelers shuffled toward baggage claim, and I clocked exits and security cameras out of habit before making myself stop. I'd packed light, just a carry on, because I hadn't been thinking about clothes when I booked the flight.
Red was waiting outside arrivals.
He was leaning against his truck, arms crossed, wearing a hoodie I'd stolen and returned at least three times over the years. The sky was still dark, but the airport lights caught the copper in his hair, and when he saw me come through the doors, he straightened up like I'd pulled him on a string.
I walked toward him. He walked toward me. And then we were standing in front of each other in the pickup lane at five in the morning, and I didn't know what to say.
He had dark circles under his eyes and stubble coming in along his jaw. He'd played a full game last night, done a media scrum, and probably hadn't slept either. But he was here, at the airport, at five in the morning, because I'd told him I was coming.
"You didn't have to pick me up," I said. "I could have gotten an Uber."
"Shut up."
He pulled me into his chest and held on.
I dropped my bag and wrapped my arms around him. He smelled like soap and coffee, and I pressed my face into his shoulder and breathed. His heart was beating too fast under my ear. So was mine.
We stood there for a long time. Long enough that a car honked at us to move, long enough that the sky started to lighten at the edges. Red's hand came up to cup the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair, and I thought about all the times we'd done this in private. Hotel rooms with the curtains drawn. His apartment with the lights off. My place in Colorado Springs, where no one could see.
This was a public sidewalk. There were security cameras and strangers walking past with their luggage.
Red kissed me anyway.
It was brief, just a press of his mouth against mine, but it was the first time he'd ever done that where someone might see. When he pulled back, his eyes were wet.
"I love you," I said into his shoulder. I'd said it on the phone, but I needed to say it again with my body against his.
"I know." His voice was rough. "I love you too."
He pulled back just enough to look at me. His eyes were red-rimmed, tired, and so open it almost hurt to see.
"Let's get out of here," he said.
The drive to Red's place took twenty minutes. I spent most of it with my hand on his thigh, the muscle tensing under my palm every time I shifted my grip.
"You're distracting me," he said.
"I'm not doing anything."
"You're touching me."
"I'm allowed to touch you now." I slid my hand higher. "You said so."
He caught my wrist before I could go any further. "I'm driving."