That Blue Gibson

CH 87

Liz's stomach dropped when Andy walked out of yet another hotel with an annoyed look on his face. 

"Nothing?" she asked when he climbed into the backseat with her. 

"Nothing. What the fuck is going on in this city that every hotel room is booked?"

"Paris in the fall," their cab driver muttered. "You Americans love it."

Liz sighed heavily and grabbed her bag off the floorboard to find her phone while Andy gave the driver yet another hotel name. She dug around in the dark bag, trying to feel for the hard metal phone when her hand hit the bottle of pills her doctor had given her for the trip home, giving a loud, distinct rattle. 

"Hey, Andy? Do you know how to book a private plane?"

*

"Dave, I'm not sure this is a good idea," Jordyn hesitated in the doorway when he opened the door to his suite. 

"It's fine, Jordyn," he mumbled, not really believing himself. 

To him, Liz would be everywhere. Her coffee cup on the counter, the script she had been reading that afternoon on the table, the necklace she decided against wearing that night on the nightstand, her sunglasses on the foot of the bed... little moments of them together in the room before it all collapsed over yet another misunderstanding. 

But when the door clicked closed behind him, he saw that her script was missing from the table, her cup had been replaced on the coffee bar and the couch that they had left askew from the night before had been returned to its proper position. He rushed past Jordyn and into the bedroom, bracing himself on the door frame as he scanned the empty room along with the lit fireplace and candles. Trying to shove away the thought that Liz was making the room romantic for him and another woman, he moved on to the closet where he knew he would get his final answer whether he wanted it or not. 

His shirts were hanging alone next to his luggage and the jeans he had left in a heap earlier were folded neatly on the shelf. Against the wall, behind his shirts and hanging on a silver hanger was her dress, the black beaded gown that had been an obstacle for him just the night before and was now a stark reminder that this was all his fault.

The breath completely knocked out of him, he knelt on the carpet and leaned his forehead into the wall. You've completely fucked it now, man, he thought. He and Liz should have been celebrating the last of her birthday and packing for Italy but instead, he got blackout drunk on cheap whiskey and picked a fight over some bullshit that happened long before she even met him. Give me a sign, Lemmy, he prayed to the patron saint of situations like the one he was in. Help me. 

"David, oh my god," he heard Jordyn's gasp and felt her hands on his back. 

"I'm fine," he muttered, moving to stand and letting her lead him back out to the living room. 

She sat on the edge of the couch, her blonde curls contrasted against the dark wood filigree on the backrest and a pensive look on her face. Dave stood frozen, unable to take his eyes off the woodwork. Even though Liz had tried to erase herself from the room, she was still there, especially on that couch. 

Jordyn waited until he finally sat next to her and leaned his elbows onto his knees. "She left, didn't she." 

He only nodded, worried he would break down if he verbally confirmed it. 

"Did I-?"

"No," he stopped her before she could continue and collapsed back into the couch. "You didn't do anything. It was me."

She sat quietly for a moment, then laid back against the couch next to him. "Still get jealous, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess," he sighed and reached for her hand again, just to remember what it felt like. There were so many nights that they collapsed on their couch together at home after an exhausting day of chasing three little girls around the house. She would fall asleep on his shoulder or his lap while he watched a movie or read the news on his tablet and things were about as perfect as they could be... until he went on tour and the boredom hit. "Jordyn?"

"Hmmm?" she hummed, lost her own thoughts. 

"I'm sorry I fucked everything up between us."

"I know," she said gently and squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry, too."

He shifted so he could see her, studying her features against the crisp white couch. Their daughters looked so much like her, all angelic blue eyes and pure blonde curly hair, but were all him in the personality department. They were the perfect mix of the two of them and he missed them so goddamn much...

He took a sharp breath as he pushed off the back of the couch and leaned into Jordyn, kissing her hesitantly at first, then harder when she wove her fingers in his hair. 

An alarm bell was ringing somewhere in his brain, reminding him that Liz tasted like vanilla, whiskey and black coffee, where Jordyn was cherry, vodka, and mochas. They were the same, but just different enough that it felt wrong. Jordyn was safe, consistent and placid where Liz was a little dangerous, a little wild and a little enigmatic, but they both loved hard and with everything they had and at that moment he didn't feel like he deserved either of them.

His phone began to buzz on the coffee table in front of them and he twitched, wanting to both answer it and continue kissing her, but she gently shoved him off and whispered, "Answer it."

He searched her eyes for a moment, reading the determination and resolve in her stare then snatched up his phone and headed for the bedroom. 

"Hey, T."

"Dude, she just talked to Ally. She's on her way to the airport."

Dave sank slowly onto the bed and closed his eyes. "Fuck."

*

Liz lugged her heavy bag up the steps behind Andy and into the plane. She greeted the pilot and attendant, thanking them for coming on such short notice and dropped her bag in the first row of chairs. Andy flopped into the seats on the other side of the aisle and dug out his earbuds, readying himself for the long flight back to the states. Liz grazed her fingers over his shoulder in a silent thanks for getting her through the night and headed towards the back of the plane where she just hoped there was a quiet corner she could curl up and die in. 

She passed a little table holding a basket full of food, ignoring that it was full of caviar and dry champagne as Dave had warned her months ago, to the last row where she found a black garment bag carefully laid on the back of a tan leather chair. Pulling the hood of her sweatshirt off her hair, she gingerly sat next to it and eased the zipper down with a shaking hand. The black beaded bodice of her dress twinkled in the cabin lights and Liz choked back a sob, yanking the zipper back up to hide everything that dress meant. 

Her mind went blank as the plane's engines roared to life and a single thought drifted forward, he's starting over with her.