Tears dot her lashes, but a smile pushes through, weak, wobbly, and so fucking gorgeous. “This was never just a fling for me.”
“Me neither.” I mean it in a thousand ways I don’t know how to say. In every heartbeat. In every breath this perfect-for-me woman steals without trying.
As if afraid to let go, Cami curls into me tighter, fingers featherlight against my chest. “I…I lo?—”
Her words splinter, and I don’t push.
Instead, I kiss the side of her head and let her hide in the space between what she almost said and what she’s not ready to.
Holding her, I brush my thumb along her spine until her breath evens out again.
Enveloping us in the one thing we’ll always have.
This summer.
Morning lands with a jolt, like the drop at the end of a roller coaster.
We barely slept, alternating between fucking and making love until our bodies gave out and the sky began to lighten.
She’s upstairs now, double-checking to make sure that she hasn’t forgotten anything. I’m in the kitchen, pouring decaf shewon’t be able to finish into a travel mug. Time is cruel, and her flight leaves soon.
Shadow and Stripe are curled in their hammock, paws tangled like they haven’t learned what goodbye means. God, I wish I hadn’t.
Cami’s footsteps pad softly down the stairs.
“Ready?” she asks, the crack beneath the word betraying her as she steps into the kitchen, purse slung over one shoulder. Her hair’s slightly wet from the world’s longest shower together, and though she tries to sound casual, I hear the tremor beneath her words.
She crouches beside the kittens, brushing her fingers over their tiny heads, and swallows hard.
“God, this is harder than I thought.” She exhales. “You two be good for Daddy, okay?”
“They’ll miss you.” I hand her the coffee. “But don’t worry. Stripe already planned a full day of pouncing on my toes and breaking things.”
Her laugh cracks halfway through, fingers toying with the cup lid, eyes flicking toward the door. “Let’s go before this gets any harder.”
Our drive is quiet in a way that’s full of unspoken things.
With one hand on the steering wheel, my other rests between us on the console, close enough to touch, far enough to keep it together.
When I pull to a stop outside Hartford’s Terminal?B, Cami turns toward me, lips parted like she’s rehearsed this a dozen times and still doesn’t know how to start.
“I’ll text or call as soon as I’m settled. Promise.” She reaches for her purse. “The bubble phone’s charged.”
I nod. “Good. I left you a voicemail last night. Just so you’d have one to savor.”
Her smile wobbles. “What does it say?”
“Something about powdered sugar and kittens.” I clear my throat. “And that I?—”
I stop myself. Because she might still not be ready to say it back, and I’d never take that moment from her.
“Just press play when you have a free moment to yourself.”
I get out, pop the trunk, and lift her bags onto the curb.
Cami joins me, blinking fast. “My dad’s picking me up. Taking me to lunch, then the apartment. So it might be crickets for a bit.”
“That’s good.” I close the trunk. “You haven’t seen him in months. Enjoy your time together.”
