Page 98 of This Changes Everything

I held Rory’s face, forcing him to look at me. “I’m not doing anything. I’m scared about what you’re thinking.”

“Why would you be scared about what I’m thinking? What are you thinking?” Rory pulled my hands down from his face and interlocked our fingers.

“I think this is it for me, Rory.”

“But?” Rory held his breath, concern straining his expression.

I swallowed hard. “But . . . I’ve tried long distance before, and it didn’t work. It was awful, and heartbreaking, and if that happened with you, I wouldn’t recover.”

“What we have tried before is not being together, and that wasn’t working. For me, that was awful and heartbreaking.” Rory lifted my hand and kissed my palm. “I’ll come to LA, you’ll come to Vancouver, and I don’t know when, but eventually . . . maybe not tomorrow, but the next tomorrow . . .” He smiled, recalling my words. “We’ll be in the same place at the same time for the rest of our lives. So we’re not trying anything. We’re doing it. You just have to love me every day in between.”

“I already do. I already have. Even when I wasn’t supposed to.” I shrugged. “Whoops.”

Rory kissed my hand again. “Look at me, Ellie.”

I let my eyes fall over Rory’s face as he sat beside me, holding my hands. His brown hair curled out at the sides of my blue Dodgers hat; the honey mixed inside his dark-brown eyes flickered against the light; his subtle scruff defined his already chiseled jawline; and his freckles were scattered across his nose and the top of his cheeks. My eyes lifted to connect with his again, and my heartbeat slowed. I knew his face better than my own.

“It’s me,” he said. “Are you really worried about us not being able to make this work?”

“No.”

Rory smiled, carving out his creased dimple. “Okay. Good.” He stretched over me to grab his black Titleist hat from the bedside table. He placed it on my head with a loving tug, grounding me against his gentle calm. “Because this is it for me, too, you know.” Rory leaned in and kissed me just beneath my ear, then stood. “Time to go, Cains.” He stretched his hands to help me up, but instead of bringing me to my feet, he grabbed my waist and threw me over his shoulder.

“You can’t carry me like this and drag your suitcase around the hotel lobby,” I squealed.

“That’s what bellhops are for.” Rory left me hanging over his shoulder, picked up the phone, and called the front desk. “Hi, I’m ready to check out. Rory Campbell. Could you please send someone to grab my suitcase? I picked up a girl last night and now my hands are full of trouble.”

I howled with laughter. He hung up and shifted my weight on his shoulder to pull out his wallet and toss two hundred dollars onto the nightstand.

“You’re an idiot.” I bit his back.

“Ow!” he cried out, before smoothing his hand over my ass, then spanking it hard with a stinging slap.

“Oh yes! A little more of that next time. What do you think? Do we have ten minutes so you can spank the shit out of me?” I teased playfully.

Rory tossed his head with a loud laugh and threw me back on the bed. He ran to deadbolt the door, tore off his hat and shirt, then jumped on top of me before I could move a muscle.

Zoë, Maddy, and I followed Rory, Orson, Hannah, and Kara’s Uber to the airport. I was still wearing Rory’s underwear, shirt, and black hat. The girls pressed their feet into the curb and leaned against the door of my tiny silver Toyota Yaris while I sat cross-legged on the hood. Rory, Orson, Hannah, and Kara pulled their luggage from the black SUV.

I slid down the hood as Hannah walked up first and gave us each a massive hug, telling us how much she loved us.

Kara was next. She pointed at Zoë. “I’m coming to LA soon, so we should plan something. I want to go to Palm Springs.”

Zoë nodded. “Ooooh, definitely!”

Orson was next. He planted a kiss on all our cheeks, then pinched my face and gave it a light tap. “See you later, Hollywood.” He grinned.

Rory gave Zoë and Maddy hugs, and when he finally made his way to me, he stepped between my legs, tugged on my hips, and pulled me into him, shooting a flare up my spine and through every nerve ending. He quietly muttered, “This is terrible.”

“Yeah,” I sighed, and he leaned down to kiss me.

“I don’t want to go,” he whispered so no one else could hear him. The busy drum of the airport dulled around us.

“Always you, Rory.”

He pulled his face away and tapped the brim of my hat, then brought me in for a hug.

“So, I was thinking,” I mumbled into his neck. “I did a little research this morning, and you said you’ve never been to the Hollywood Bowl.”