“No regrets,” I whispered. I kissed him again and then reluctantly let him go. “I’ll always remember you, Zack Anderson.”
A single tear leaked out and tracked down his cheek, but he smiled and stepped back. I got in the car before I could do something stupid like beg him to come with me or profess my undying love. I lifted my hand in a wave, then started the car and pulled out of the driveway. I watched him in my rearview mirror until I turned the corner.
I was forty-six years old, but I cried like a baby the entire way to the airport.7
I missed Zack terribly.