Sparks Fly- L.N

Chapter 13

Time slipped through their fingers, days dancing away in a hurry. Their mornings turned into something they shared, like secret rituals just for the two of them. Elenore would poke fun at Lando's wild bedhead, and he'd get back at her with surprise tickles, laughter echoing through hotel rooms, weaving their connection. But as with all good things, it had to come to an end. The week before Spa arrived, Elenore's stress skyrocketed. A call from her publisher dropped a bombshell: a new book due in three months. Panic set in as she paced the living room. Could she write a whole book in that small space of time? Lando, her rock, stepped in.
"Hey there," he called his voice like a calming wave. She spilled her worries, her pacing now a mix of anxiety and anticipation of their upcoming separation. London was her writing cocoon, and she had to stay there to work the tight deadline. Lando's F1 schedule and her book deadline collided. She had to tell him."It's about the book," she confessed, looking down. Lando's confusion was genuine,
"What's wrong? Isn't that awesome?"Elenore looked up, tears brimming,
"I have to stay here."Lando's face dropped, disappointment written all over it.
"Can't you write while you travel with me?" he asked, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. She shook her head,
"I wish, but I have to stay."
"It's your passion, El. You've got to go for it."His smile dimmed, but understanding shone through. She moved closer to him, finding comfort in his embrace.
"But how am I going to survive without you?"He looked at her with a soft smile,
"We'll make it work. FaceTime's a thing, you know?" Their gaze locked, the unspoken love between them tangible. A lone tear escaped Lando's eye, and Elenore wiped it away, her thumb tracing his cheek.
"We'll figure it out," he reassured, his lips brushing her forehead.
"Maybe they can connect your phone to my radio during my races," he joked, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes.

Saying goodbye was tough. Elenore wasn't able to come with him to the airport so she held onto him as if time could be halted. But cars waited for no one.
"I'll miss you," she choked out, her voice shaky. He pulled her close, his lips finding her hair.
"I'll miss you too. We'll talk every night, I promise."
The engine's hum marked their impending separation, and they held each other, unwilling to let go. "Three months," Elenore whispered. Lando's lips met hers in a lingering kiss, a blend of longing and hope.
"Yeah, three months," he echoed. He stepped back reluctantly, his gaze locked on hers as the car pulled away. She waved, her heart aching. Left to herself, Elenore knew she couldn't let sadness consume her. She settled in her office, fingers poised over the keyboard. A Post-it note caught her eye.
"Work hard, never give up, and I'll see you soon. XO Lando."
Lando's words lingered in her heart, kindling a flutter of butterflies that lived inside of her. She smiled as she looked at the little heart he had drawn in the corner of the Post-it note. Imperfectly formed, it held a charm that was uniquely theirs, imperfectly perfect. And at that moment, an idea sprouted within her, one that would finally find its place in her book.

The realization struck her like a bolt of inspiration. Elenore had maintained the desire to write her own story for years, and now, the time had come. With a renewed sense of purpose, she began to write. The words flowed effortlessly from her fingers as if they had been waiting patiently for this very moment.

The pages she filled became a tapestry of her life, entwined with heartaches and triumphs, the highs and lows that had sculpted her. She delved into the canvas of emotions, capturing the essence of those persistent butterflies that fluttered within her, embodying her feelings for Lando. Their first kiss was immortalized in ink, a stolen moment of tenderness that had marked the beginning of their story. The way Lando instinctively wrapped an arm around her as he slept, a comforting embrace even in slumber, found its way onto the page. But, her narrative was not limited to the good parts. Elenore chose to write about the harder parts too, the moments that tested the strength of their bond. She wrote about the clashes, the disagreements that underscored their connection, and the times when circumstances kept them apart. The underlying thread of anxiety, stemming from her brother Charles, wove through her words. She laid bare the fear of his discovery, of a potential meltdown that could shake the foundation of her newfound love.

With raw honesty, Elenore explored her complex relationship with Charles. She admitted to the mess of emotions—love, protection, but also a foreboding anticipation. She grappled with the recognition that his actions, though painful, were not entirely unexpected. It was a revelation that she had silently acknowledged all along—that her brother possessed the power to disrupt her relationships, to sow seeds of doubt and conflict. As the words flowed, Elenore discovered relief in her writing. It was a way to confront the shadows that sometimes lingered beneath the surface of her happiness. Each sentence was a step toward untangling the complications of her emotions, a path toward understanding not only her journey but also the complex dynamics that shaped her interactions with those around her. And she was just getting started.