Back at the table, the vibe was different now, in spite of the envelope that sat on the table between us. “You make me high, Chandler. And I don’t want this to end,” she breathed, her voice a bit throaty her eyes seared into mine.

I swallowed, reaching a hand toward her. “I don’t want this to end, either.”

She took my hand, interlocking her fingers with mine. The server interrupted us our moment with our main course.

“Steak for the lady, short rib for you, sir. Anything else I can get you?”

We shook our heads. When our server had left, she spoke again. “What are we going to do?”

“We’ll figure something out,” I repeated but I had no idea how. Amy leaving tomorrow was really going to happen. Our whole lives were on different continents. It would be crazy to just…change all that on a whim, wouldn’t it?

The hope in her eyes turned into a smile that spread across her face. She took a deep breath, cutting into her steak and saying nothing in return.

I reiterated, as firmly as possible, “I don’t know how we’ll do it, but we’ll figure out a way, Amy.”

She set her fork and knife down on the plate, a worried look on her face. “I’m scared, though,” she said, quietly, meeting my gaze. “I don’t want to do long distance. In the past, it’s gone straight downhill.”

“Well, I’m not like any of the other guys you’ve dated. Would you agree?”

“Yes, but…”

I leaned over and whispered in her ear. “You can Skype striptease for me any time you want.” I brushed a thumb across her cheek and her breath caught.

“Chandler. I know…” She paused, taking a deep breath. “But this is all moving so fast. It’s a little hard to believe how strong my feelings are for you.”

“Same here.”

I sat back, and searched for the appropriate words to tell her she meant everything to me. In my past, I’d always been an expert at saying the right thing to a girl at the right time to get what I wanted. But now, there was no right thing. There was only the truth. And I kept stopping myself short of saying those truths, and I couldn’t fathom why. I knew what I felt was real but the old Chandler was still there, fighting the new me emerging. If Amy left, would all those feelings disappear? Was I just caught in the moment? It hit me that the distance would prove what Amy meant to me. If I moved on, went back to my old ways, then it was just a perfect week. If not…

“More wine?” I asked, uncomfortable with my line of thought.

“Yes, please.” She tipped her glass toward me before I re-filled it.

We ate in silence for a few long minutes. It wasn’t uncomfortable but we were both kind of in our own heads, probably thinking about the same thing. Amy had given me some news, so I decided to give her some of my own. My voice came out dark and a little hoarse. “My shot came back this week,” I said, clearing my throat.

She stopped in mid-motion, about to fork her food into her mouth, and gave me a confused look. “Your shot? What shot?”

I ran a hand through my hair. “My shot has been off all year since the season started back in October. Coach was about to tell me to stop taking three pointers it got so bad. Since you’ve been here, my shot came back. I don’t know why exactly, although I have my theories.”

A slow and solid smile spread across her face. “Is this your middle school way of telling me you really really like me? That you shoot the ball better when I’m here?”

I laughed, somewhat awkwardly. “Yeah, I guess,” was what came out.

“So your shot came back, and I’ve stopped taking my meds. Sounds like we are pretty much the cure for each others ailments.” Amy flashed her dark brown eyes at me.  “There is something I’ve been wondering, actually. If you don’t mind. It’s not as personal as your dad.”

“Oh?” I asked, trying not to tense. Whenever Amy ‘wondered’ about something, it was usually pretty devastating. At least for me, but I was starting to get used to it, though she always managed to take me by surprise. “What is it?”

“I’ve seen you at practice and in the two games since I’ve been here,” she said, leaning forward. “You’re better than just good. Why don’t you play for the NBA in the U.S.? Why do you play in Europe? You’ve never told me.”

For a number of reasons but those words don’t come out. Instead, I said, “I like it here.”

“But the league isn’t as good.”

I shifted in my seat, getting more uncomfortable. “I can ride the bench in the NBA, or be a star here. I choose to be a star.”

“Oh,” she said, and nodded. “So you’d rather be a big fish in a small pond?”

“You could put it that way, sure,” I said. “All I want to do is play.”

“You don’t think the NBA could use a shooter like you?”

I scoffed, looking at her. “Doing scouting research now, are we? What do you know about the NBA?”

She scoffed right back. “So what if I don’t know everything about basketball statistics? I’m in sports PR, Chandler, and I know enough to know talent when I see it. You’ve made seven three pointers in the past two games. One thing I know about basketball teams, they are always looking for shooters. And ones that never miss.”

“I’d rather play in the game than be a role player,” I repeated, and I knew I was getting prickly about it.

Her lips pursed as she considered my words. “So you’d never…you know. Move back to the States?”

“Why would that even be in the picture?” I asked, getting defensive.

“So…it’s not in the picture?” she asked, slowly. “Like…not at all?”

I raked my hand through my hair and squinted. “What are you getting at, Amy?”

“Forget it,” she said quietly, her expression carefully smooth.

“I won’t forget it. What”—I raised an eyebrow at her—“are you getting at?”

Her eyes narrowed at me. “Oh come on. Don’t sit there and act dumb, like you haven’t thought about what’s going to happen when my flight leaves tomorrow.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I returned, not hiding my frustration, “I thought we were just enjoying tonight.”

A hanging silence that was nearly unbearable. We were right back to square one.

Amy broke it, and I knew I was fucking this up by the look on her face and the tone of her voice. “Is this week it?”

“This was a great week,” I said, trying to even out my own voice. “Isn’t that enough? For now? Why the rush to figure it all out? Why not take things slow?” My words only seemed to make things worse.

“So you’re just going to pretend like you have no idea what’s going to happen between us once I leave?” she asked, her voice…empty.

I shook my head at her. “I told you, we’ll Skype. We’ll see what happens. I’m not going to just try out for the NBA suddenly, just because a girl I’m in l—because a girl I like lives an ocean away.”

She took a big bite of her steak so she didn’t have to say anything for a minute.

“Okay,” she finally said. She wasn’t angry in the way she said ‘okay’, which was quite possibly the worst answer to anything I’d ever asked. I saw sadness, hurt, and disappointment in her eyes. But I looked down at my plate, my thoughts and feelings still unsorted and not yet unpacked about Amy and me.

The rest of the meal was relatively quiet. I knew what Amy was getting at—she wanted me to come back to the U.S. But the fact was I couldn’t up and leave my life here for a girl—no matter how much I loved her. I just…couldn’t. That wall in me was standing firm and I wasn’t going to flip a switch, roll over and suddenly become the Chandler she wanted. She’d understood that about me at one time. Now? Everything was different, everything had changed. I just didn’t know what it meant for either one of us.

Later that night in bed, we didn’t use ties or ropes like we’d planned. No, we spooned and fucked slowly, intimately, gradually into the wee hours of the morning. We fell asleep in each other's arms in a pool of sweat.

* * *

“Chandler. Chandler!” Amy poked me. I had enjoyed feeling her skin on me all night, and I was currently confused as to why she was no longer naked in my bed so I could wrap my arms around her little body.

“Babe, what are you doing up? Come back to bed.”

“My flight leaves in an hour!” she shouted back to me, frantically throwing every last one of her clothes into her bag.

“Oh, fuck.” I jumped out of bed, still groggy from our late night sexscapades. “I’ll start the coffee while you’re getting ready.”

“Fuck the coffee!”

I nodded, still half-asleep. “No time. Fuck the coffee.” I turned to my dog, who was lying on the floor lazily wagging her tail. “Sorry Jess, I’ll take you out when I get back.”

We sped to the airport. I weaved through traffic and probably pissed off a lot of drivers, but we made it in a record fifteen minutes to the Barcelona airport. When we arrived, I put the flashers on and jumped out to grab Amy’s luggage.

She hugged me fiercely, like I was the last person on earth.

“See you on Skype, soon?” I asked.

She hesitated. “Yes.” She paused. “Chandler, I feel like we left things hanging in the balance a little.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I soothed. “We don’t have to plan everything in one night. We’ll chat over Skype. Okay?”

She took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. “Okay.”

“Now, go catch your fucking flight. You might have to flirt with some security guard to get moved through fast.”

And just like that, I watched the love of my fucking life leave me. She turned, and waved, a sad smile on her face before she completely disappeared from sight. It wasn’t until I realized she wasn’t coming back that it hit me. The numbness, the emptiness, at not waking up to her tomorrow morning.

“I love you, Squirt,” I whispered.

But she was gone in the flesh, and I could already feel the weight of her absence.