Invisible Love Letter(7)By: Callie Anderson
Leslie pushed the kitchen door open and reality set right back in . . . again. I had been so focused on Weston that I hadn’t heard the front door. My emotional roller coaster had come to a stop and I needed to get off.
I’d known Leslie long enough to realize that her puffy eyes and the redness in her nose were from crying. She ducked her head when she noticed Weston in the kitchen with us. She had been crying over Harry—it was the only reason Leslie ever cried—and though I wanted to tell her he was a piece of shit womanizer whore bag, it wouldn’t matter what I said. She had fallen for him and there was nothing she could do to change that.
Hound Dog Harry had cheated on her in the past—repeatedly. She had caught him in the act and still managed to go back. He never wanted to commit to her, and every big holiday he seemed to need a fucking break. But she was in love with the idea of love, and there wasn't anything I, Axel, or the Pope could say to change that.
“Morning,” Leslie said in a low, hoarse voice. She got a bottle of water and took a sip before she joined us near the coffee machine.
“We have to leave soon,” I reminded her. I hoped that Weston didn’t notice her puffy eyes.
“We have to go sooner. I got called in to work.” Leslie had been working as a waitress at a local pub for extra cash until the next semester began.
“What time do you have to go in? I still need to shower and make sure everything is packed.”
I glanced at the clock on the microwave. It was half past eleven. “Les, there is no way you’ll make it to LAX and back in two hours. The 405 will be insane.”
“I can take you,” Weston spoke up. In the midst of figuring out how I would get to the airport, I’d forgotten he was standing so close.
“No, it's fine.” I shook my head. Sitting in a confined space with him for a few short hours would be intoxicating.
“No, Weston,” Leslie joined. “It's bad enough that you ended up our DD last night.”
My head snapped towards Leslie. Weston was our DD? How much did I drink?
“Weston said he wasn’t drinking so he wanted me to enjoy your last night with you,” Leslie said when she saw my furrowed eyebrows. “He drove me to Harry’s and then brought you here.”
“I crashed on the couch,” he added with a cute smirk on his face.
The warm tingles on my skin told me I was blushing. How badly had I embarrassed myself?
“I can take you, Emilia. By the time we drive back to Yorks to get Leslie’s car and you head out to LAX, she'll be late to work.”
“I can take a cab, really. It’s not that big a deal.” I waved my free hand.
“I'm not letting you take a cab!” Leslie’s voice shrieked through the small kitchen and had me grasping the bridge of my nose. My headache was still present.
Weston turned to face me. He hadn’t moved and I felt the heat from his body. “It’s on my way home. I don't mind taking you. Plus, it would beat being stuck in traffic all by myself.”
How could I say no? A part of me needed to say no—he was sexy and had me questioning my every thought—but I would probably never see him again. What was a couple of hours?
“All right,” I whispered. Trapped by the gaze of his eyes, I took a deep breath to control my rapid heartbeat.
“Alrighty then.” He winked, and the boyish grin that greeted me had me biting both of my lips to contain my excitement.
He hadn’t slept with Monica; instead, he’d driven me home. Taken care of me. Yes, I had a rule to never date guys like him, but I was smitten again. Maybe he wasn’t the guy I’d pegged him to be.
Thirty minutes later I was showered, dressed and shoving my two oversized suitcases in the trunk of his car. It was a shiny black Pontiac GTO, clearly a collector’s dream to own. It smelled like Weston: leather and cinnamon.
“You're leaving?” he asked once he slammed the trunk shut.
I began to turn but his voice stopped me in my tracks. “For good?”
“It's been the plan all along.” I shrugged.
Monica and Kate met us outside, their faces still sleep-ravaged. “We’ll talk soon.” I hugged them and promised to stay in touch.
I walked back to the car while Weston leaned against his shiny fender to wait for me. He wore the same clothes from last night, but his eyes had a spark to them this morning.
Leslie slid in the front seat as I climbed into the back. The heat made my dress stick to the leather. I placed my oversized sunglasses over my eyes and mentally prepared myself for the conversation Weston and I would have from Yorks to LAX. After all, I didn’t want him to remember me as a complete tool.
Weston talked to Leslie about her job and I tuned them out as I said goodbye to where I had spent the last few months. We pulled into Yorks’ parking spot next to Leslie’s car and Weston cut his engine. “I’ll wait for you here.” He eyed me through the rearview mirror. I nodded and followed Leslie out of the car.
I draped my arms over Leslie, and tears pooled in my eyes, but I couldn't let them fall. If I cried, it would be hours before anyone could separate us. “I can't believe this is goodbye.” She wrapped her tiny arms around me and hugged me tighter.