Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
I felt Ally tense beside me. I knew she was already thinking of the next time I would be called away and dreading it. I hadn’t told her Sean had texted while she was in the shower, warning me about a massive weather system being tracked. If it continued inland, I’d be leaving tonight. I needed to check with him, then break the news to my girl.
I stood. “Ladies, I’m going to go do some errands and leave you to catch up.”
Ally frowned. “You don’t have to go. You could eat with us.”
I leaned down, kissing her forehead. “But I do. I saw the girly shit on the menu for lunch. No tofu for me.” At her chuckle, I brushed a finger down her cheek. “Besides, I know you’re dying to brag more about my, ah, head.” I winked. “Have some time with your friend.”
Emma grinned. “I’ll drop her off when we’re done.”
“Sounds good.”
“Nice to meet you, Adam. Keep up the good work. I’ve never seen Alex look so happy.”
I smiled as I shook her hand, already knowing Ally wouldn’t look so happy in a few hours.
And I hated it.
“D49.” The attendant handed me the keys. I located the car and threw my stuff into the back, anxious to get on the road. I’d been away for over a week, and when the plane for the last leg of the trip was delayed due to mechanical failure, I decided I couldn’t wait another whole day before seeing Ally, so I rented a car, planning on driving the final six hours to get home. It was far better than pacing around a hotel room or the airport.
The miles passed as I mulled over thoughts of Ally and the far-too-frequent times I left her.
I had always enjoyed my career; I liked the travel and adventure, and yes, I liked the dangerous aspect of it. But now when my phone rang with Sean’s ringtone, instead of the thrill of the next great shoot came the dread of saying goodbye to the woman I’d lost my heart to. The pain of leaving her behind each time grew more intense with each parting. I loathed being away from her. And lately, I’d been gone far too often.
Her little love notes written on pink paper, the grape suckers she would tuck into my bag, and her sweet texts kept me close to the life she led while I was away and made the time bearable, but only just. Our farewells saddened us both and although she was nothing but supportive, I knew it weighed on Ally.
When I would get back, Ally loved to sit and pore over the photographs I’d taken. She saw my work through different eyes, always finding moments of beauty in the images—the light amid the dark— people helping others, a rare smile when a person would find some precious article they thought was lost forever, or my camera would be clicking away at the perfect moment when the sun shone just right across a field of grass or lowered into the ocean. Her good eye and quiet praise made me proud. I found myself experiencing more emotion to the desolation I saw. It was as if Ally had opened up that part of me and it was reflected in my work.
Elena kept her promise and made sure to check in with Ally all the time. Even though her parents still dictated too much of her life, Ally was getting stronger, saying no more often, and standing up to them. We both saw the changes in her and how their hold was slowly being eroded.
When I was in town, I lost a lot of money to Elena’s cheating ways at poker. And I loved every minute of the time we would spend with her—sipping scotch, playing cards, and listening to her stories. I sought out different scotches in every country I went to, bringing Elena back some rare, exotic bottle to try. I also made it my mission to find Ally something and send it. More times than not, it had a nightingale theme. A beautifully carved wooden box I found in Thailand. A silver pendant with an oval disk—the nightingale form carved out of the gleaming metal—that I saw in Japan. In Hawaii, I found a delicate gold and enamel necklace. I sent other things—a pretty porcelain tile and an exquisite pair of diamond earrings I had purchased on a layover in Brussels—but I knew how much the symbols of my name for her meant to each of us, and I loved seeing her wear them.
They were small tokens, feeble attempts to make up for the fact that I wasn’t there with her.
Flowers and presents. They were all I could give her, until I was able to give her what she truly wanted—a life with me, home, beside her. Not chasing images around the globe.