Chapter 24 24

Chapter 24 24
Chapter 24: Distance
Aiden's POV

“Good morning,” Lily’s face filled the screen, groggy and lovely. She was in bed, hair disheveled, looking the same as she had that morning when she put on one of my shirts and refused to give it back.

"Morning, beautiful. How'd you sleep?"

"Okay. The apartment is amazing. The light on the studio space is just right.” She smiled but I could spot the fatigue in her eyes. "I miss you."

"I miss you too. "Three days and I'm back on the plane."

"I know. I'm counting down."

I put some clothes on and went to the office. My mom was already there working on quarterly reports.

"You look tired," she observed.

"I'm fine."

"You're working too hard. Again."

"I'm building a company. That requires work."

She dropped her papers and glared at me over her eyeglasses. “You’re not also escaping an empty apartment. There's a difference."

I couldn't argue with that.

The next few weeks settled into a routine. Wake up. Video call with Lily. Work. Fly to New York Friday night. Spend the weekend with Lily. Fly back Sunday night. Repeat.

“You are an anomaly,” he said once, as we were going over a contract one afternoon. "More focused. Less ruthless."

"Is that good or bad?"

"Good. Very good. The Aiden of old would have wiped the floor with this competitor. This new Aiden is offering to be a partner.”

“Winning isn’t everything,” the new Aiden discovered.
"The new Aiden is in love."

I smiled. "Yeah. He is."

Then the Matsuda deal happened.

It was huge. A Japanese tech company that wanted to work with us. The sort of deal could put the new Cole Tech on solid footing for years. But they insisted on negotiating in person. In Chicago. For three weeks.

I phoned Lily to let her know I would need to cancel the two upcoming weekend visits.

"Three weeks?" Her tone was so disappointed it killed me.

"I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you. Or maybe you can come here for a weekend?”

"Aiden, I can't. The residency is brutal. I'm working twelve hour days. I have appointments with curators, fellow artists, potential buyers. I can't just leave."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. We knew this would be hard."

But it wasn't okay. I could hear it in her voice. And I wasn’t O.K. with it, either.

The three weeks dragged. We continued to video chat, but the calls were shorter. More distracted. Lily had just finished her residency. I was tired from negotiations. We began to miss each other’s calls and leave messages.
"Hey, it's me. Sorry I missed you. Call when you can."

"Hi. Long day. Talk tomorrow?"

The asynchronous communication was accentuating the gap. As if we were living in alternate universes that barely overlapped anymore.

I started to worry. What if this was too hard? What if it was slowly killing what we had? What if Lily met someone in New York who could actually give her the time of day?

The thoughts spiraled at night, when I lay alone in bed. Common sense said Lily loved me, that we were solid. But fear murmured that love did not always suffice.

Twenty-three days into our break, I finally sealed the Matsuda deal. Three hours earlier than expected. The Japanese executives were happy. My team was celebrating. You know what I should have been thinking about when we were watching Ertugrul? And all I could think about was Lily.

“Book me a ticket to New York,” I told my assistant. "Tonight. Don't tell anyone."

"Sir, you have meetings tomorrow—"

"Reschedule them."

Six hours later, I was on her doorstep at eleven PM in a T-shirt and jeans with takeout from her favorite Thai place and flowers I had snatched at the airport.

I knocked. Waited. Knocked again.

The door flew open and there was Lily, her hair tied up in a paint-stained shirt, looking exhausted and surprised and perfect.

"Aiden? What are you doing here?"

"The deal closed early. Another week of not seeing you was going to kill me.”
She ran into my arms, and I caught her, the food and flowers instantly a moot point as she held on to me. She was laughing and crying at once.

“You’re really here,” she continued to say. "You're really here."

"I'm really here."

We climbed inside, hands already on clothes. It felt like an eternity, three weeks apart. I wanted to touch her, taste her, feel her. Had to show myself we were still us.

I pressed her to the wall and my mouth met hers. She kissed me back hungrily, her nails biting into my shoulder. My hands went under her top and encountered bare flesh. She gasped into my mouth.
"Bedroom," she breathed.

"Too far."

I brought her up and she wrapped her legs around my middle. We bumped into some furniture, knocked over a lamp, we didn’t give a damn. I succeeded in removing her shirt, and then her bra. My mouth closed about her breast and she shrieked.

"Aiden, please. I need you."

"I need you too. So fucking much."

We didn’t make it to the bedroom. We barely had time to hit the floor.’ Clothes came off in a frenzy. We both groaned in relief when I finally pressed inside her.

“Oh, God I missed you,” I murmured against her neck. "Missed this. Missed us."

"Don't talk. Just move."

I did, deep and fast, three weeks of frustration and need shooting out with every thrust. Lily matched me stroke for stroke, her body writhing beneath mine. It was desperate and raw and just right.

"More," she gasped. "Harder."

I pumped hard until we were both trembling and I gave her everything. When she gasped out my name I came right behind her, burying my face in her shoulder.

We were on our backs, gasping for air, in her living room floor.

"That was—" she started.
"Not enough," I finished. "Not nearly enough."

I carried her and got us to the bedroom, finally. We took each other slower two more times — relearning each other’s bodies. We talked between rounds, really talked; we caught up on all the stuff we’d been missing.

“I was frightened,” Lily confessed as we lay interlaced in the middle of the morning. “We were afraid the distance was pulling us apart.

"Me too. Every day that you didn’t pick up the phone, every missed call, I thought maybe you were withdrawing.”

"I wasn't. I'm not. But Aiden, this is so hard."

"I know. But we're making it work."

"Are we? Because it feels to me like we are leading different lives that occasionally cross.
I didn’t know what to say to that. Because she was right. This wasn't sustainable. Something had to change.

I should so much have liked him to lie in all morning long, but I was alone when I woke. I freaked out for a second before spotting the note on the pillow.

"Emergency at the gallery. My mentor collapsed. Meet me there? Address below. Love you."

I quickly dressed and went off to the gallery. When I got there, Lily sat in a small office with her red face from crying. Catherine Rothschild, the gallery director, was there with her and appeared serious.

"What happened?" I drew Lily into my arms and asked.

“Margaret is dead,” Lily said, her voice cracking. "Heart attack. She was here late working and she just collapsed. They couldn't save her."

"I'm so sorry."

Margaret Chen was Lily’s mentor, the first one to take her art seriously. She’d given Lily her first professional break, introduced her to the Rothschild residency. She was a key figure in getting Lily’s career off the ground.

"There's something for you she left," Catherine told Lily softly, passing an envelope to her. "Her attorney is anxious to read her will this afternoon. But she just wanted you to have this.”

Lily tore open the envelope, her hands trembling. And inside were a letter and keys.

“My dearest Lily," she read aloud, tears streaming down her cheeks, If you’re reading this, that means I’ve transitioned to whatever is next. “I think it must be evident if I was quite lucky — and endured until the end of days — doing what I wanted to do, participating in my time with art and artists that counted. You were always special, Lily. The moment I saw your work, I knew you had something special. Pure talent mixed with RAW passion. I’m leaving you something when I die. Do reject it in humility. You earned it. Keep creating. Keep fighting. Never change who you are. With love and admiration, Margaret."

Two hours later, we were in a lawyer’s office for the reading of Margaret’s will. She had bequeathed bits to various people. Art to museums. Money to charities. Personal items to family.

“Ms. Chen was a 25 percent owner of the gallery,” the lawyer said. "She's leaving it to you. Making you a partner. One of the youngest gallery partners in New York history.”

Catherine was smiling. “Margaret and I discussed this. I supported her decision completely. It would be great to have you as an ally, Lily. If you'll accept."

“I—” Lily shot me a glance and then turned back to Catherine. “This is what I always dreamed of.”

"There is one stipulation," added Catherine. "Partnership requires full-time commitment. You’d have to leave your residency program early and become partner. It’s not splitting time in different cities. This is not doing New York; this is saying we’re going to have a permanent relationship with New York.”

The room fell silent. Lily's hand on mine gripped me more firmly.

Permanently. New York. Permanently.

I felt my stomach drop. This was it. The moment where everything changed. Where we had to decide whether our relationship could withstand what came after.

I think Catherine could feel the tension. “You don’t have to make a decision today. Take the week. Think about it. Discuss it with Aiden. But Lily, will you take it?” This is your future calling."

So we went out of the lawyer´s office in silence. In Lily’s apartment we sat on the couch apart from one another.

"Say something," Lily finally said.
"This is incredible. Everything you've worked for."

"But?"

“But it involves picking New York. Permanently. No more splitting time. No more weekend visits."

“We could still do it —”

"Could we? I'm in Chicago. Running a company. My mother's there. My whole life is there." I raked my fingers through my hair. "And now your life is here."

"What are you saying?"

“I’m going to say we always knew this was temporary. The long distance. The weekend visits. It was a way to get through the residency. But take a partnership like…”

“Tell me to turn it down?”

"No! God, no. This is your dream. You are my gift, and I would never ask you to throw that away.” I took her hands. "But we have to be realistic. And can we do this for the long haul? Can we have a life together if you live in one city and I live in another?”

Tears filled her eyes. "I don't know. I don't have the answers."

"Me either."
We sat there, the space between us stretching further than it ever had before even though we were within inches of each other. The gallery alliance lay like a weight over our heads. A beautiful, awful weight that might erase all we’d built.

I want to have time to think,” said Lily, in a low voice.

"I know. Take the week. Figure out what you want." I kissed her forehead. “I trust your judgment whatever you decide I know its right. Even if—"

I couldn't finish that sentence. We couldn’t say what was on our minds out loud.

Even if it kills us.