By admin LIAM
The drive to the airport is quiet. Not the comfortable kind of quiet–the kind that sits heavy in the air, making it hard to breathe.
Emilia shifts beside me, her fingers playing with the hem of her skirt. I can tell she wants to say something, but every time she glances my way, she looks down at her lap instead.
I tap my fingers against the steering wheel, debating whether to turn on the radio. Maybe music would make this less awkward. But before I can, hear Emilia take a slow breath.
“You sleep okay?” I ask. My voice comes out rougher than I intended.
It’s such an awkward question. I don’t think I’ve ever even asked anyone this before.
She exhales a laugh, barely more than a breath. “Not really. You?”
“Same.”
Silence again.
A car honks somewhere behind us, breaking the tension for half a second. But the quiet settles back in, just as heavy as before.
I want to say more. Ask her if she’s been eating well, if she’s okay, if we‘ re okay. But the words knot in my throat, and I can’t seem to untangle
them.
Emilia clears her throat. “I, uh, almost missed my alarm. Mrs. Beckett
I
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came by before you did, and we were up late talking.”
I nod, my grip loosening just a little. “How’s she doing?”
**
“She’s good. Theo too.” She pauses. “She told me not to go back to my horrible ex.”
A small smile tugs at my lips. “Smart woman.”
This time, when Emilia laughs, it sounds real. I risk a glance at her. catching the way her shoulders relax just a little.
For the first time in days, the air between us feels a little lighter.
Then the GPS announces a turn, and I realize—I don’t want this ride to end just yet.
As awkward and unsure as things are now between us. I would rather we sit in this car and stumble over our words than catch that flight to Chicago and watch her ex get married.
I wonder if she thinks this too.
The tires glide to a stop outside the airport terminal, and I shift the car into park. Neither of us moves.
Outside, people rush past with suitcases, dragging them behind or balancing coffee cups on top. Some are reuniting with family, others are saying their goodbyes. It’s busy, loud, chaotic–everything that the inside
of this car isn’t.
I clear my throat. “We should-”
“Yeah.” Emilia cuts in, reaching for the door handle.
She leaves and I send Cam a message to pick up my car–he offered to
Chapter 31
drive us here, but I wanted time alone with Emilia–then stretch over to
the backseat to grab the black cap and face mask I tossed in this morning before pulling them on.
This will do nothing to chase the paps away, but we can’t make it seem like we’re too desperate to be photographed together.
And yeah, maybe for once I’m not exactly ready to have cameras shoved in my face. Not after the week I’ve had.
It won’t do to think about it so I shove the thought away.
J
I exhale through my nose and step out, moving to the trunk to grab our bags. The moment I hoist Emilia’s suitcase onto the curb, she reaches for it, her fingers brushing mine.
Neither of us pulls away immediately.
Her lips part like she’s about to say something, but then she just takes the handle, adjusting her grip. “Thanks.”
I nod. “Yeah. You should probably cover up too. I have an extra cap in the back.” She listens and pulls open the door to grab the cap. She tries to put it on, but I’m faster, taking it from her hands and placing it on her head.
My fingers brush against her temple and it might be my imagination, but I
think her breath hitches.
That can’t be right. I shake off the ridiculous thought.
The cap does nothing to hide her curls and it’s only hard to see her eyes because of the height difference between us, but it’s more than nothing.
“Thanks.” She says again.
I grab my bags, mostly to keep my hands busy, trying to ignore the
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tingling sensation erupting through my fingers just from the feel of her warm skin beneath them.
“It’s nothing.”
We head inside.
The inside of the airport is even more crowded than outside. People weave around us, chattering in different languages, flight announcements crackling over the speakers.
Emilia tugs her suitcase closer, glancing at the departure boards. I don’t think she notices the way she instinctively stands closer to me. But then again, it might not mean a thing, I’ve never been one for overthinking it
‘doesn’t make sense to start now.