Chapter 466: Love (2)

They dressed without ceremony and without distance.

Amelia packed the last of the bathroom things into a side pocket while Stan checked the time once and then put the phone away. The bed was a rumpled witness. The tray of barely eaten food looked like a plan from a different hour. She smoothed her hair, winced when she sat to pull on her shoes, and caught him watching.

"I’m fine," she said. "Just... aware of myself."

"Good." He took the suitcase handle before she could. "Awareness is allowed."

Final look around the room: charger, jacket, the river still moving beyond the glass as if it had not noticed close to two hours being spent so completely. Amelia paused at the threshold with the key card in her fingers.

The suite still held the heat of them. Not perfume, not anything she could name for a clerk.

Just the particular quiet after a body has been opened and put back together. She thought of his mouth at her throat, the way he had gone still when she said his name like that, not as a request, as a fact. She thought of water earlier, of white sheets after, of the weight of him and the patience of him, of how she had come apart and then come back and still wanted more. A few days. She already missed the exact press of his hip against hers.

"I booked through today," she said. "Came back the day before yesterday to see you, and I’m really glad I made that move... My shares are at risk asof current, so . Even if I wanted to stay..." She stopped, then finished it honestly. "I want to stay. I can’t."

"Its okay, a few days is not much time," he said.

"A few days is a lot of time for me though, you underestimate how much I’ll miss you, I’ll definitely come before this week end." It was a promise she intended to keep. "I’ll text when I land."

They stepped into the corridor. She locked the suite, the click small and final, and they rode the elevator down in a quiet that felt earned rather than empty. At reception she slid the key across the desk, signed what needed signing, thanked the clerk in the polite voice of a woman who had just rewritten a private history upstairs and would not be discussing it.

Outside, late light sat on the Audi. He loaded the suitcase, opened her door, and she settled in with another careful breath. The city rolled toward Velaris Airport in familiar pieces, overpasses, signs, the particular thinning of ordinary streets into travel infrastructure.

"You’ll eat on the plane?" he asked.

"I’ll try. I don’t trust airport sandwiches, but I trust fainting less."

"Call when you reach your destination."

"I will." She looked at his profile. "Thank you for coming today. For all of it."

"Its nothing my love."

Traffic thickened near the river bend. Not a jam, exactly, just the kind of slowing that made the clock feel personal. Amelia’s hand found the edge of the seat. After a moment she said, quietly, "Can you pull off? Just for a minute. Not long."

He glanced at her, then at the next exit. A small overlook sat above the water, the kind of place people used for photos and then forgot. He took it. Hazard lights off. Engine still. The river from here was the same river as from the suite, only farther and more honest.

Amelia unclipped her belt and sat for a second with his palms on her thighs. His glasses were tinted so they had privacy...

"I keep thinking about the room," she said. "Not in a neat way. In the way my body thinks. You had me against the glass first. Then the bed. You were careful and you weren’t. I can still feel where you held me. I’m going to sit on a plane for hours pretending I’m only a woman with a meeting and a suitcase, and the whole time I’m going to remember how you looked when you..." She broke off, color high, then finished it because she had already decided to be honest today. "When you were inside me and you wouldn’t let me rush. I’ll miss that. I’ll miss you. I already do."

Stan turned in his seat. He didn’t reach for her immediately. He listened like the words were something he could keep.

"I know," he said. "I can still taste you. That’s not a line. It’s just true."

She let out a breath that was almost a laugh. "This is a terrible place to say that."

"It’s an excellent place. No one is looking."

He leaned across and kissed her, slower than the curb would allow later, deep enough that her fingers found his jacket and stayed. When they parted she rested her forehead against his for a count of three.

"If I stay another ten minutes I will miss the flight on purpose," she murmured.

"Then we go." He kissed the corner of her mouth once more, almost chaste after everything that had not been. "see you before weekend."

"I love you Stan."

"I love you too" ℯℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

They pulled back onto the road. The drop-off lane was a braid of hazards and goodbyes. He pulled in, hazard lights ticking. Amelia got out. He met her at the curb with the suitcase, wheels finding the pavement.

The kiss was not hurried and was not chaste.

He framed her face, and she rose into him, mouth opening under his with the memory of the room still warm in it, and now the overlook too, the river, the confession she had given him because she would rather be known than composed. Deep. Unfinished on purpose.

A few days compressed into the press of lips and the brief catch of her breath when his hand settled at her waist. Someone’s horn sounded far away and did not matter. When they parted, her eyes were bright and steady.

"Go," she whispered. "Before I invent a delay."

"Have a safe flight."

"Take care you too..."

"Okay Amelia, I’ll miss you..."