I don’t see Tristan at the bar that night. I keep waiting for him to come by. I have my act all ready to go, but he doesn’t show up. Dylan and Juliet are clearly disappointed and somewhat angry at me. They’re even upset the following day while I’m stuffing the last of my stuff into the few available spaces that I still have left in my bags.

“You know what I’m not going to miss about you?” Dylan says, lying on the couch. “All the drama that you and Tristan had this year.”

“Hey, why is that all on me?” I ask. “It’s him, too.”

“It’s him, too. Except that while you show up after you two have drama, he doesn’t.”

“That’s on him, too,” Juliet says, taking my side.

“Thank you,” I say.

I look at my phone. I have to leave for the airport in less than twenty minutes. But I still haven’t seen Tristan.

“Where is he?” I turn to Juliet. “I haven’t seen him since last night.”

She shrugs.

“Dylan?”

He looks down to the floor. I can see that he’s hiding something and that he’s sorry about it.

“What?” I ask. “What’s is it?”

“I think he left already,” he says quietly.

“What?”

“But he didn’t say bye to me!” Juliet explodes and then catches herself. “Or Alice.”

“I don’t know what to say.” Dylan shrugs. “I thought that he had said his goodbyes earlier. I didn’t think he would just leave like that. But he left about an hour ago while you two were still at brunch.”

I feel tears start to build up in my eyes. Why? Why did he have to do this? I try to blink to make them stop and manage to hold a few back. Juliet gives me a big warm hug. I sob a little into her shoulder.

“Please don’t ruin my shirt with your wetness,” she jokes.

“I promise,” I say, even though I’m pretty sure there’s already a clear impression of my wet face on her shirt.

After that, our goodbyes are short. I can’t wait to get out of there. The naked walls and the forlorn looks make me sick to my stomach. Dylan and Juliet help me downstairs with my bags. I give each of them a brief hug and promise to come back soon. Juliet brings the Hamptons up and again I promise to think about it. Though at this point, I want to put as many miles between New York and me as soon as possible and never look back. I need to get away from here. Maybe then I can forget about everything that has happened.

I hail a cab. When the cab pulls away from the curb, I finally let all of my tears flow freely down my face. The cab driver looks at me through the mirror and quickly darts his eyes when he sees my tears. Too bad. There’s nothing I can do to stop them. They just keep coming and coming. I finally manage to get a hold of myself somewhere near the Bronx. La Guardia Airport is still a bit away.

I take a deep breath. It’s okay, I say to myself. If this is what he wanted then this is what it is. I guess I’ll never see him again. At least, not for a really long time. And that’s fine. I got over him before; I’ll get over him again. Thank God I never did kiss him the other night. Otherwise, this would be unbearable.

And then, as we wait for the light to turn green at one intersection, my sorrow suddenly turns to anger. No, you know what, fuck Tristan. How dare he do this to me? All I said was that I didn’t want a relationship with him again and he just leaves? Without a goodbye? Without even a see ya later? You deserve better than that Alice. A lot better.

When we finally get to the airport, I get out of the cab with a newfound confidence. My tears have all dried up and I’m forcing myself to look forward to a new chapter in my life. Summer in Southern California. There are worst places to go home to. I’m looking forward to the beach, surfing, drinking too much sangria in some Malibu beachside café, and driving a little too recklessly through the winding Topanga Canyon with the top down. It’s going to be fun. You’ll see.

After I pay the cab driver, I don’t bother to get a cart and instead choose to struggle with four large bags all by myself. The ticket counter isn’t far; I can see it from here. I don’t need a cart. But then I quickly realize that I do. Otherwise, I have to keep dropping my enormous bags off one by one a few feet away from me and go back for the others. I can’t very well leave them entirely by themselves as I get in line out of fear of getting one of them confiscated and examined by the airport police.

As I fumble with my bags during one of these mini-trips on my way to the check-in line, I hear someone say my name.

“Alice.”

At first, I think they must be talking to someone else. I’m not expecting to see anyone I know here. So I ignore the voice and keep making little trips for all of my bags.

“Alice!” the man’s voice says louder. “Alice!”

When I finally get all of my bags to the place where the check-in line begins, I am covered in sweat and out of breath. I turn toward the direction where the voice is coming from and see…Tristan.

“Tristan?” I ask cautiously. I am actually so physically and emotionally drained that I don’t quite believe my eyes. I am seeing bright spots all over the place; maybe the Tristan before me is also a figment of my imagination.

“Alice,” he says again. He’s dressed in a casual pair of jeans, a plain t-shirt, and he’s holding a bouquet of daffodils – my absolute favorite flowers. His hair falls slightly into his eyes and he pushes it out of the way with his free hand.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“These are for you,” he says. He hands me the daffodils and I can’t help but inhale their sweet scent. They smell of hope and springtime.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“Alice, I’ve thought a lot about what you said yesterday. And I’ve come to the conclusion that you’re wrong.”

“I’m wrong?”

“Yes. That happens sometimes, you know,” he jokes. “Alice, I want you back. I want to be with you. I love you. And love is all we need. What else is there that matters?”

“But how is that going to work?” I say, shrugging my shoulders. “You’re going home to the Bay Area…”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I’m not,” he says. He tilts his head, exposing a mischievous smile.

I stare at him. I have no idea what he means.

“I’m coming back to LA with you. On the same flight as you,” he says, holding up his ticket as proof.

I don’t believe what he says. I look into his eyes. It feels like minutes pass before anyone speaks again. He gives in first.

“I’m going to live in my parents’ old house in Calabasas.”

He lived in that house since he was born until his senior year in high school when his parents moved to the Bay Area. It’s only fifteen minutes away from my parents’ house. It’s a place where we made a million memories. It’s a place that I will always associate with being his home.

“I thought they had sold it,” I say slowly.

“No, they just rented it out. They owned it for so long that they barely had a mortgage on it. And you know Calabasas, the prices went through the roof. They’re getting a ton of money for it in rent.”

I don’t know why he’s telling me all of these details when all I care about is why he’s going back to the LA area.

“Anyway.” Tristan catches himself babbling. “You don’t care about any of that. The only thing that’s important is that the renters just moved out and they were going to put it back on the market, but I asked them if I could stay there for the summer.”

“So, you’re coming back home?” I ask. The word “home” feels both strange and familiar in my mouth. I don’t mean to say it, but Tristan just smiles at me and gives me a wink.

“Yes, I’m coming back home.”

He comes a few steps closer to me.

“That way you don’t have to worry about us being apart this summer, Alice. I want to be with you and I want to spend the summer with you. I love you.”

I inhale slowly. For some reason, tears start to well up in my eyes.

“I thought that you had left without saying goodbye,” I whisper. “I was so mad at you.”

One lonely tear rolls down my cheek. Tristan takes me into his arms. He wipes my cheek with his thumb. His touch sends a warm sensation throughout my body.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m such a jerk.”

“You are,” I say. “But I am, too.”

Slowly, he bends his neck forward. Our lips are so close together that our breaths intertwine. He smells of mint and lavender.

“I love the way your hair smells,” he whispers. “Honey.”

I smile. It’s my new shampoo.

We stare into each other’s eyes. Everyone else in the airport ceases to exist completely. I feel like we’re in one of those scenes in the movies where the whole world spins around the couple and the couple stands still.

And then, just when I can’t wait any longer, Tristan slowly presses his lips onto mine and the whole world explodes in a wild array of colors.

“So, what do you say?” he asks through the kiss. I pull away from him to look into his eyes.

“About what?” I ask, trying to be coy. But the huge smile on my face is exposing my true feelings.

“Will you take me back, Alice Summers? I find myself unable to live without you.”

I make him suffer for a moment. And then say, “Yes.”

Tristan grabs me by the waist and spins me round and round. My feet leave the ground and I feel like I’m a bird, flying high above the clouds. When I finally come back to earth, Tristan gives me one more kiss, takes my hand, and we head toward the check-in line.