Thanks for your reviews. Enjoy chapter two!
I know where you are. I know I shouldn't be doing this, that it could lose me my badge, but I have to. God, I have to! You'd do the same if it was me, wouldn't you? I know you would.
I hired a private investigator and paid him a month's salary to find out where they sent you. It was worth it, Alex, so don't worry. He told me that you're in Burlington, Wisconsin, living at 312 Damascus Avenue. It cost me an arm and a leg, but he even found out that you work at a high school, as an English teacher. Imagine that!
I'm on a plane, getting closer to you every minute, and I can hardly contain my excitement. To occupy myself, I think of you. I think of your smiles and the way they lit up my world every time. I think of your bottomless blue eyes and those sexy black frames surrounding them. I think of the way it felt to run my hands through silky blonde tresses, the way it felt to curl my hands around your legs, your hips, your stomach. I think of the smoothness of your fair skin, without a single blemish. God, you're so beautiful that it hurts to look at you sometimes!
A voice comes over the intercom. "Landing in ten minutes," says our pilot, and a shiver of exhilaration courses through me. I'm so close to you now!
The ten minutes it takes for us to land seems like an eternity, but finally the plane touches down. I haven't brought any luggage; it would just slow me down. I have $300 in my purse and that's it. I know you'll chastise me for being as ill-equipped as usual, but this was too important a chance to pass up. The second I got the okay from Cragen, I hopped on the first plane from JFK to Burlington and here I am.
I all but run off the plane, trying not to walk too quickly, because I know it'll make me look like some sort of terrorist. But I'm so close to you, and suddenly I feel like I can't wait one more minute.
My heart skips a beat when it occurs to me: this must have been the airport you flown into two months ago. I'm walking where you walked, and I have to stop and take a deep breath as I take in my surroundings. But I'm not afraid, as you must have been. I'm exhilarated.
My poor baby. This must have been so overwhelming for you, without me. You must have been so sad, and filled to the core with terror. But I'm here, and I'm going to alleviate your pain, your fear. I promised I'd be there for you, through sadness and pain and fear and uncertainty, and I will be, always. I said you were my princess, and you are.
There are a few taxis at the airport gate and I hop in the back of one. When the driver asks me where I want to go, I say, "312 Damascus Avenue." And we're off.
It's only a fifteen minute ride, tops, but those fifteen minutes seem to stretch on forever. Finally we arrive, and I shove a twenty at the driver, too nervous to wait for change. Your house is nice enough, not particularly large, but well-kept. There's no car in the driveway, but it occurs to me that you might not have one, or at least, not yet. I race up your walkway and hesitate for just a moment, smoothing down my hair before ringing the doorbell.
But you don't answer, and I assume you're not home. My stomach sinking with disappointment, I sit on your stoop, and I wait. I imagine the look that will light up your face when you see me, and I smile at the thought. Oh, my baby, I'm going to be with you forever and ever, no matter what it takes! I will stay by your side every single minute, and if anyone dares to come between us, I will happily stand between you and a bullet, between you and a knife, between you and a drug lord. I will lay down my life for you, if that's what it takes. That's what love is, Alex. And I love you.
Finally, finally a car pulls into the driveway. A BMW, silver, just like the one you had in New York. Except in New York it didn't stand out, and here, I know it does. The windows are tinted and I can't see your face, but my stomach dances in anticipation, and still I wait for you. I'll always wait for you, baby. You know I will.
It all happens so, so slowly. It's almost like in the movies, when they play everything in slow motion, and I can see every slight movement of your face as it breaks into a smile and every single strand of silky blonde hair dancing with the wind. Every single bittersweet tear leaking from your eyes wrenches my heart, but as you run toward me, your hair flying in the wind, I start to cry too.
And then you're in my arms, and we're both crying, and I rest my cheek on the crown of your head, inhaling the intoxicating scent of your favorite vanilla shampoo. I pull you close to me and then stop, holding you at arm's length so I can kiss away your tears. I brush your hair back from your forehead and then lean toward you, crashing our lips together in a sea of passion, and I know that no matter what the repercussions, I've done the right thing.
Finally, you speak, eyes wide with wonder. "How did you find me?"
I kiss you again, partly because I want to, but also to distract. "It doesn't matter," I say between kisses, wrapping my arms around you and holding you tight, as if I can anchor myself to you, as if I can anchor you to me.
But then you push me away, folding your arms over your chest. "You could get us both killed, Liv!"
"It doesn't matter," I repeat. "I love you, baby, and being without you is killing me inside."
Your lips curl up into that smile I know so well. "I think you're being just a bit melodramatic."
But I'm not, and I think you know it. I knew you'd chew me out for doing something so foolish, but I had to, and I know you understand. "I'm not."
You clutch my hand tightly in your cool one. "Come on in. I'm guessing you didn't book a hotel."
I shrug, following you inside. "Why should I? I've got you."
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