Infinity: Based on a True Story (15 page)

I’ve called him a dozen times and I’m running out of time. Every time I call, he gets caught up. I’m too afraid to just spring it on him out of nowhere. I know that I will be back before he returns. Our trip won’t be very long.

I just need that confirmation… but at the same time I don’t want to let Max down or regret turning down the flight.

I take out my cellphone and give John one last call, hoping he answers. Praying he does.

But he doesn’t. So, I do what I should have done before. I leave a voicemail. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before. Probably because I know John is terrible with listening to them, but hopefully if he sees it’s from me he’ll listen to it.

“Babe, I’m going to Paris. It’s a last minute trip but Dr. Barad said it was okay for me to go. I know you won’t be to happy to hear this,” I laugh, “but I’ll call you again as soon as I land. I love you. Call me back or leave a voicemail if I can’t get to the phone. Good luck out there! I love you!”

I feel horrible for not telling him who I’m going with. But he’ll call back and he’ll ask and I’ll tell him who I’m with. He won’t be too happy about it, but he’ll get over it. John trusts me, and I would never hurt him.

This trip is for me to get away—to stop betting on which day my life will end. Everyone dreams of doing something spontaneous in their life. Fulfilling a dream. I think I deserve at least some of that.

I hang up and the door swings open behind me. Max barges in, grabbing my suitcase as I slide my phone into my clutch.

“You ready?” he asks.

I nod, turning with haste as I reach for the handle of my suitcase, taking it from him. “I got it.”

“You sure?” he asks, raising a brow.

“Yep. Come on, Grant. Don’t wanna miss our flight!” I rush out of the door and he follows closely behind me. Once it’s all locked up, the alarm set, he pulls off and it’s now when my pulse catches speed.

Reality curveballs me.

I can’t believe I’m really doing this. Although Dr. Barad gave me permission to go, even he said that the OPX might not work the entire time—that I’m closer and closer every day to my lungs giving out.

But even though he tells me the truth of it, he wants this for me, too. He wants me to live before I actually die. He hardly even knows me and he cares.

Don’t do anything crazy.

Don’t do anything crazy.

Don’t do anything crazy.

Those words… they ring in my head. Chime. Playing over and over again like a broken record. I promised I wouldn’t, but that promise has already been shattered.

It’s crazy for me to travel hours away from home—away from my doctor and the love of my life. It’s fucking insane, but it’s what I want. I can’t keep denying myself happiness. Maybe he’ll finish the competition early and he can fly here…

I sigh.

What the hell am I thinking? That would never work.

I’m hoping once John hears my voicemail, he’ll understand and won’t overact. I hope he accepts my reasons once I get the chance to explain—this trip I really wanted before finally resting in peace.

If he does, I will be able to claim harmony. I will be ready to go. I will be okay and I know he will be too.

I know he wanted to share a trip like this with me one day so maybe he should fly here. Maybe he and Max can make amends for my sake.

See. I think everything will be all right.

What am I so worried about? Everything will be okay.

The man sitting next to me, with a smile so big—the one that has yet to stop talking about the places we’ll explore when we arrive—will be okay, too. Maximilian.

He’ll be fine because he’s given me something I’ve always wanted. He’ll be proud of himself, and that will outweigh the heartache and pain. The loss and my absence.

He will move on peacefully.

That’s all I can ask for right now.

My phone rings, interrupting Max’s chattering.

J
ohn

Y
es
!

“Excuse me, ma’am, but we need all cellphones and electronic devices shut off. The plane is about to take off.” The flight attendant touches my arm, smiling kindly as she looks from my phone, to the tubing in my nose, and then into my eyes.

“Oh. Yes. Right. I’ll shut it off right now.”

Damn it, John.
Why couldn’t you have called five minutes sooner?

“Come on, Shakes.” Max slouches back in his seat. “Tell the hound you’ll talk to him in three days. This time is all yours.” He thinks John already knows I’m on this trip with him.

I smack my teeth, prepared to turn my phone off but the text I receive from John surprises me. Actually, it terrifies me, but only because I can’t respond to ease his worried mind.

He’ll wonder. Get curious. It’ll mess with his head, maybe even the meetings he has while he’s down there. He won’t able to focus because he’s too worried about his sick wife.

“
D
amn it
,” I breathe, shutting the phone off as the flight attendant walks past, eyes hard on mine, scolding.

I tuck my phone into my backpack, swallowing thickly as I call for the attendant and ask for a bottle of water before take off.

She nods and goes to the back. I turn to look at Max. His eyes are already closed, but immediately they pop open.

He reaches across, placing his hand on top of mine. I glance down at his hand, how his skin is about two shades lighter than mine, like light brown sugar.

I look back up. He’s already looking at me, his eyes gentle, his body lax. He leans my way, murmuring, “Don’t let him change your mind about this,” in my ear. “This is your chance at living. At freedom. Be strong.”

My face goes blank as I face forward, accepting my water from the attendant that comes by again. My body now feels hot. By the look on the flight attendant’s face as she handed me the water, I’m sure I look even more flushed than usual.

I look out of the window, watching the ground move as the plane starts to move forward.

When we’re in the air and the thick clouds pass by us, I close my eyes with the turbulence, gripping the arms of the chair, realizing that going on this trip with Maximilian Grant may not be the wisest thing to do right now.

I mean, I know it isn’t, but this is Paris we’re talking about. Paris! How could I turn down a calling to I place I have dreamt of my entire life?

Jesus. What was I thinking?

Maybe I shouldn’t live this out and risk it all.

Maybe I’m better off dying in the safety of my home.

T
he plane ride
didn’t turn out to be so bad.

Max had no choice but to get first class seats so I had plenty of space. Other than his obnoxious snoring, it was okay. I don’t know how he slept. I couldn’t.

It was hard containing my mix of anxiety and excitement. It’d been a while since I flew on a plane. The last time I did was when John and I flew to Colorado to spend the weekend at the mountains.

John…

He’s all I’ve been able to think about. I’m sure he’s tried calling me dozens of times. I have to remember to call him first thing as soon as we get to our hotel so it doesn’t seem like anything’s wrong.

Fortunately, I upgraded my phone plan for international calls and text.

The airport is crowded, Max pushing through the people with my arm hooked in his, our bags strapped together.

“This is fucking insane,” he mutters as we finally reach the glass doors. For a moment I think we’ve finally hit a clearing, but I’m wrong.

Outside the airport is a flood of people waving their arms in the air, flagging down cabbies. They’re practically pouncing on top of each other.

“Wow,” I say, eyes broad. “This is wild.”

“Tell me about it.” Max pulls his arm out of mine, whipping out his cellphone and checking something.

“What are you doing?”

He momentarily disregards me, and after spending about two minutes searching, he slides his phone into his back pocket, reaching for my hand with one of his.

“This way.” He turns to the right, pushing through the crowd and rushing across the pavement. When we’re away from the people flagging down cabs or hopping into their personal vehicles, Max makes his way toward a bridge.

“You good?” he asks me, looking over his shoulder, prepared to stop.

I nod my head, continuing the walk. “Surprisingly, I’m okay.”

“Good.” We cross the steel bridge, the rocky pavement making the bottoms of my shoes feel weird. It’s a beautiful spring day in Paris. I am already in awe of this lovely city.

When we finally make it across the bridge a staircase appears, leading down to a tunnel.

“The Metro?”

He grins. “Way better than waiting hours for a cab, right?”

My eyebrows shift up, amused. “Smart.”

We carefully walk down the stairs and Max stops in front of the map, checking our destination. When he figures out where we are we proceed down the hallway, meeting at revolving silver turnstiles.

He digs in his pockets, sliding in a few euros, collecting our tickets, and then walking through with my hand still in his.

I was absentminded for a second, clinging to him to get away from the crowd, but now that we have a little more room to breathe, I release his hand, doing my best to keep it casual.

Of course, he notices, looking at me briefly but not saying anything. Instead, he keeps it light, walking ahead and stopping a few feet away from the tracks.

He drops his bag but hangs onto the handle of my suitcase, spinning it on its wheels as he says, “Well, we made it. What do you think?”

“Hectic already,” I breathe out, adjusting my tubing.

“That’s just the airport. Paris is a 24-hour city. Never a dull moment, so I’ve been told.”

“Well, what are we going to do first?”

“First,” he says, releasing the handle and walking towards me to adjust my backpack, “you’re going to get some rest. We’ll check in at the hotel, you can freshen up and eat—whatever you wanna do, so long as it doesn’t require a lot of movement. I feel like that was already too much walking, across the bridge and down the stairs.”

“Are you kidding? I’m fine. Look at me?” I hold my hands out.

He lowers my arms, pinching one of my cheeks. “Your cheeks are flushed. You’re tired. You don’t have to pretend with me.”

I bite into the corner of my lip, sighing. “I just need to sit, that’s all.”

He quickly leads me towards a vacant bench, allowing me to sit and then going back for our bags. When he’s back, he sits beside me, shaking his head.

“What?” I ask.

“You aren’t the girl I met four years ago, Shakes. You can pretend to be her, but I’m just going to ignore it. If I’m moving too fast for you, let me know. I can slow down. This trip is for you.”

“I can keep up.”

He flattens his lips, giving me a stale face. “I’ll move slow, that way you can feel like you’re beating me. How’s that?”

“Fine.” I take out my bottle of water, chugging it. “But when I disappear because I’m moving so fast, don’t come looking for me.”

He chuckles, his head dropping, revealing a row of perfect white teeth. Finally, the train comes whizzing by, the brakes squealing as it comes to a complete stop.

Max collects our bags and then helps me stand, walking to the train with his arm draped over my shoulder.

Once inside, I take the last empty seat in the back. It’s jam-packed, leaving Max to stand in front of me, shrugging.

“We can trade,” I offer.

“Please.” He smirks when I roll my eyes. “I’m good, Shakes. Take it easy. Enjoy the ride.”

And I do. I know he’ll be okay, so I pull out my phone, holding it up for a signal. I don’t get one single bar in this damn tunnel.

“Shit.”

“What’s up?”

“No signal,” I murmur.

“Wanna try mine?”

I frown up at him. “Yeah, right? So John can question whose number I’m calling him from? I don’t think so.”

So you didn’t tell him you’re with me?” He looks amused by this.

“No—but that doesn’t mean anything. It’s only because I don’t want him to pitch a fit. John is crazy.”

“Not crazier than me.”

I roll my eyes again. “Whatever, Playboy.”

He laughs. “What about Sonny? I’m sure she’d like to know you’ve landed safely.”

“I’ll call her when we get to the hotel.” Something occurs to me and I straighten my back, tilting my chin to meet his eyes. “Hold on… you booked two rooms, right?”

Max frowns. “Um… no.”

This time, I frown.

“What? Max, you’re joking, right? We
need
two rooms. We can’t share.” My heart thumps, imagining Max walking back and forth in the hotel room, a towel hanging off his waist, no shirt, showing three by two rows of perfect abs.

Or even me, getting in the shower as he sits in the bedroom. My skin crawls, but it’s not in a bad way.

“Why not? We’ll hardly even be in the room.”

My eyebrows remain glued as I focus on him, loathing his careless attitude. “This is not a joke.” I pull out my wallet. “I guess I’ll be using my credit card to book my own. What’s the name of the hotel? I’ll call as soon as we’re off this train.”

Max’s face stiffens, jaw ticking. He concentrates on my face, his carelessness no longer present. “There are two rooms, Shannon.”

I look him over. “What do you mean?”

“I booked two rooms. I’m not ignorant. It would’ve been selfish of me to do that to you.” His upper lip twitches, his heavy gaze pulling away from mine, shifting to the front of the train.

I swallow hard. “Well, shit, Max, I thought you were serious—”

“I know you did.” He drops his head to look down at me. “Do you really think I’m
that
selfish? That I would put you in the same hotel room as me, when you’ve made it clear that you’re a married woman and love your husband?”

“N-no—”

“Shannon, I respect you too much to do that to you. If this was a trip with some other female, some chick I wanted to fuck, then yes, there would be one room. But I don’t want to fuck you.”

His last sentence is a metaphorical slap in the face. My heart stutters.
He doesn’t want to fuck me?

I don’t say anything. I can’t. I guess this trip really is just for me… something he wants to do so that he won’t feel guilty for not going through with an old promise.

I lower my head, the silence between us deafening. I feel eyes on me, many of them foreign. I’m embarrassed so I don’t dare pick my head up until the ride is over.

The train finally comes to a stop and Max picks up our bags, helping me up again before we get off.

We climb up the stairs slowly, walking onto the paved road for about three minutes before coming to a stop in front of a large, stacked, tan building.

For a moment, I forget about the conversation Max and I just had on the train. I’m overwhelmed by the hotel.

It’s exquisite. Breathtaking. It looks just like the pictures I used to stare at. The rectangular windows, the arch railings that lead to the entrance. The pointy roof, making it appear as if it’s some fancy castle. The revolving crystal doors. The smiling bellhop with his smooth, clean face.

“Holy shit,” I breathe. This place is perfection.

I already feel like royalty and I haven’t even set foot inside yet.

The bellhop greets us with a heavy French accent, asking to collect our bags. Max hands them over, tips him, then walks inside, my arms hooked through his.

We stop at the front desk, where the woman greets us with an even friendlier smile, her eyes soft, hair graying.

“Maximilian Grant?” she inquires after doing some searching on her computer.

“Yes.” Max finally releases my arm, pulling out his wallet and handing her his ID. She looks over it, handing it back and then giving him a few papers to sign. Once that’s done, she hands us two room keys, that same smile on her lips.

“Your bags will be up shortly. I hope the stay is very romantic for the two of you,” she says as he takes the keys.

I shake my head, quickly correcting her. “Oh, no. We’re just friends.”

“Oh!” She places a hand over the heart of her chest. “My apologies, madame!”

“No worries at all.”

We turn for the elevator. As we wait, Max asks in a low tone, “You just had to say that?”

I look up, pretending I don’t know what he’s talking about. “Say what?”

“You know what you said.”

The elevator chimes. We enter but I keep my lips sealed. I can’t believe this. All because Max said he didn’t want to fuck me, I’m being immature about it?

I mean, not wanting him to fuck me was what I wanted, but knowing that he actually feels that way… well, it changes things. All this time I thought… hell, I don’t know what I assumed.

I’m so stupid. I want him to want me even though I won’t let him have me. It’s more than stupid; it’s mean.

Once we’re out of the elevator, we walk down the corridor, our shoes clicking along the marble floors, us… quiet as hell. Our rooms are right beside each other.

I take my key and stick it into the lock, turning the doorknob and giving Max a swift glance before walking in. He does the same, but doesn’t say anything. He just walks in, allowing his door to shut behind him.

I shut mine as well, locking it and stepping in with a sigh. The room is fresh, the sunlight bright and rich, bathing my skin in light as I walk towards the open window.

The spring wind feels nice, blowing through my tresses. But what’s even better? Right across from us, only miles away, is the Eiffel tower.

Max.

He did this.

He requested these rooms specifically. He knew I’d want to wake up to this view every morning.

I smile—smile because I can’t really be upset with him. I can’t be mad that he wanted to bring me here to have a good time. I can’t be angry that he considers me more of a friend now than he does a lover or anything more.

Why would I even expect that? Why would I want to put myself through such heartache, or worse, put him through it? What in the hell is going on with me?

His heart was in a good place when he decided to bring me here. A clean place. Let’s keep it that way. Let’s not expect more to come out of this. Friends are what we are. Nothing more.

Once I’m out of Paris I will be back at home with John and Max will be back in Wilmington, running his nightclubs and selling his paintings to the museum. It will be just like it was before. The way it should be.

I turn around, admiring the fluffy white and gold sheets and pillows, the white calla lilies in a vase on top of the nightstand beside the large canopy bed. I run my fingers across the sheer white curtain. It’s beautiful, way better than I imagined.

“So what do you think?”

A deep voice sounds behind me and I gasp, whirling around and facing Max. He stands in front of an open door, leaning a shoulder against the wall, fingers in his pockets.

“What in the hell?” I walk towards him, looking through the door. In there is a room identical to mine. I then look up at him, narrowing my eyes.

“I said we had two different rooms. I never said they weren’t connected.”

“I’m locking the door,” I inform him, walking to my bed and sitting.

“Do as you please.” He dangles the key in his hand, “though I have a key.”

Ahh. There it is. The flirting. The temptation…
wait
. Why am I glad it’s back? Am I really that desperate to play this hard-to-get game?
Stop it, Shannon!

“Then I’ll take your key.”

He sits beside me, quiet for a moment. “I know why you said what you did to the woman at the counter.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The
‘we’re just friends’
thing.”

“Yeah, because we are.”

“Maybe.” His lips press. “But you had a reason to want to correct her. Normally you shrug shit like that off.”

“Oh, God. Here you go with your interrogating.”

“No… I know why you did it. I thought about it and I get it now. It’s because I said I didn’t want to fuck you.” My heart drops to my stomach. I avoid his eyes, but I can’t ignore my sweaty palms. “Right?”

“Wrong.”

He laughs and I whip my head to look up. “You can’t lie to me.”

“You’re wrong,” I tell him. “Why would I be upset about that? I don’t want you to want to… fuck me.”

“You don’t?” He cocks a brow, awaiting a response.

“No, Max, I don’t. Why would I want that?”

“You always used to want me to fuck you.”

I spewed a laugh, standing from the bed to get rid of some proximity, dilute the chemistry. “You are so full of yourself. I guess some things will never change, huh?”

“Don’t worry,” he stands, stretching a little as he walks back to the door, “I won’t bring it up again. I didn’t mean it in that way, though. I would
love
to have the chance to fuck you again, claim you, stake you and make you
mine
—” His eyes turn hot like lava, smoldering, making me feel the heat deep in my core. I don’t blink. I can’t look away “—but, as you say, we’re just friends plus you’re married. The decision isn’t mine. If you come to me, I won’t deny you. But if you don’t, I won’t ask. I’ll just let it be, and we’ll stay friends. Nothing awkward, right?”