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I press my face into her hair and close my eyes.

Fuck.

I thought I was prepared for this. I thought I'd walked through every possible version of the moment, including the one where she told me to leave.

I hadn't imagined this one.

"You came here,” she whispers.

I tighten my arms around her. "Yeah, fancy. I came."

She pulls back just enough to look at me, her hands still fisted in my jacket. Her eyes are bright, and a disbelieving smile plays on her lips, making something ache in my chest.

"What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you."

"You flew all the way to Germany because you wanted to see me?"

I push her hair back from her face, lean down and kiss her forehead, “Yeah, I sure did.”

She laughs, but it catches halfway through, and then she's hugging me again. I hold her close, my hand moving slowly over her back. I don't care that we're standing in the middle of a café. I don't care who is watching. For weeks, I've had to settle for a screen, a voice, the glimpse of her face before one of us had to say goodnight.

I have her in my arms now, and I won’t let go until she does.

When she finally draws back, she keeps one hand against my chest, as if she needs to make sure I'm still there.

"I can't believe you came all the way here.”

“Slept on the flight; it was the waiting here that was brutal. I’ve been sitting here for almost an hour stressing.”

Her eyes widen. "An hour?"

"Your coffee shop has a very aggressive pastry display. I was under a lot of pressure."

She laughs properly this time, and I feel the sound all the way through me.

Then her expression shifts. She studies my face, the way she does, and I see the question she hasn't asked.

Why now? Why here? What does this mean?

I could give her some easy answer. Tell her I had time off, that I wanted to see Germany, that I'd heard the coffee was good.

But she's worth more than a lie designed to protect me from the possibility that she doesn't feel the same way.

"I missed you," I tell her.

Her fingers curl against my chest. "I've missed you, too.”

I clutch my hand over my heart. “So fucking much.”

She looks at me for another moment, then reaches up and touches my cheek. It's such a small gesture, so careful after the force of that first embrace, that I catch her hand and turn my face into her palm.

Her eyes soften.

"How long are you staying?"

"As long as you'll have me."