[completed] Nova Carter knows exactly what the next few years of her life will look like: she will work harder than anyone else (as she didn't get into New York University to slack off); she'll be keeping her head down and prioritizing getting her a...
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Epilogue | Walk Me Home ♫Walk Me Home by Searows
The golden candle light dances on Milo's chiseled face, shadowed on his jaw. His brown hair is shorter than what I've last seen on him, but it's thick and it glistens even now, a testament to the growing he's done in more ways than one these last few months.
They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. I wonder if it also changes your perception of a person, because I can't remember this delicate form of his and the way the light cautiously swims in his eyes and settles in the way he stands there, clad in dark slacks and a blazer over a white button-up.
"I—" I stammer, my voice betraying my astonishment. "What are you doing here? Why didn't you tell me you were coming? I could've—" I abruptly cut myself off, my words tumbling out without a thought.
Milo takes a cautious step closer. "It was meant to be a surprise, you know? The thrill of not spilling the beans and all that."
"But you're supposed to be in Italy," I offer. I'm not entirely sure which stance I'm taking, what I'm defending or trying to get out of him, but the words come to me in the moment.
"I am," Milo confirms, "but then I got this call about your speech, and there was no way in hell I was gonna miss that, Nova."
"A call?" I wrack my brain, trying to think of who could deem his presence necessary. There are too many options. Atlas, maybe, or Liz and Kaitlyn. I don't think Maxwell would dare.
"You're not going to believe me, but it was Ramona. The she-devil actually threatened me with death if I didn't show. Not that it was necessary." I watch him breathlessly, lifting another foot, taking another step. He continues carefully like that, crossing the distance but keeping his eyes on me. "You know I would've come. I would've helped you prepare or... keep calm. Why do I feel like you've been trying to make me forget you?"
"I haven't. But it was Italy, and I was happy for you." All of a sudden, I fully realize that he's standing before me, nearer than he's been in months. We're face to face as if he never left.
But he did.
I can see it in the slight change of his skin tone, a testament to the places he's been. I can see it in the depths of his eyes, filled with experiences I couldn't fathom. And I can see it in the way he takes his slow, deliberate steps, unknowingly stirring up a whirlwind of emotions within me.
"Were you there for my speech? Did you hear everything?"
He nods. "Yes. I was. I did."
"So, when are you flying back?" I look around us, franticness tugging at my trembling limbs like bolts of energy running through my muscles. The others should be here, after all. We were going to have dinner together. Am I just going to abandon all that to be with Milo when he's about to leave again? I'm going to have to go through all of it again. The airport goodbye, the key to his apartment, the frustrating video calls with terrible connections and his constant jet lag. I just can't believe that's going to be today, when I was having such a great time.
