In a lull filled by my short breaths, Einar turned the SUV around. Approving or disapproving or just plain annoyed, not a word floated my way. Streetlights yielded to ragged pines then early morning sun. I rested my chin and arm on the window sill, simultaneously trying to forget and remember the way Marc's mouth fit on mine.
I needed that. He needed that.
A rueful sigh fogged the glass panel.
Nik didn't.
We were single, but I used to love him. And several occasions since we'd broken up had proven I still did.
My younger years, when kisses were starlight and love was clumsy hands at a dance, felt like a dream from someone else's life, but back then there'd been boys I was desperate to kiss and, soon as the weekend arrived, I lost the urge to kiss them again. Maybe tonight marked the return of my former self, that kittenish filly not yet jaded by betrayal and secrets. I wanted to be that naive again, free and unbridled by consequence.
Except, according to Marc and everyone else these days, I was a bear and there was no going back. The only thing standing between me and companionship was myself. I couldn't have everything I wanted, because everything I wanted wasn't one person.
"You lucked out," I told Einar. My fingers drummed the dash before flicking on the radio, desperate for relief from the noise in my head. "Now I don't feel like playing cards."
He ignored my scowl until the volume lowered to whispered weather reports. "I've reached my limit of soulful conversation today."
I groaned. "What are you, a magic eight ball?" No, he was a headache. And he'd be a problem in Boston.
His boorish grunt justified my assessment. Later, while Einar quizzed flight attendants on security protocol, I ducked into a bathroom and called Becky for an update -no change on any front- then requested she try and 'borrow' a set of handcuffs from police.
*
Amaranth fog drifted across a waxing moon as the jet landed. Apartment and office lights winked cheerily from a low horizon of violet-shaded towers and buildings. Boston was smooth and sweet and vibrant like wine coming into its age, so much richer than I used to think it was after spending time overseas.
The last time I'd set foot in this bustling airport I was deep in mourning of the lost relationship with Logan. I'd possessed slightly more anonymity then, something I missed now that Einar was a sharply-dressed thunder cloud in my periphery, but I didn't miss that sinking finality of broken dreams. That ache I never wanted to feel again.
Maybe that was why I'd become so reluctant to pulled the trigger and take a chance.
And then emerged that wonderful aroma of my go-to fast foods and cinnamon and salt and ground coffee- all things Norway had, just not quite in this blend.
My boots echoed across the tiled floor as a kind of confidence entered the sway of my hips- one that drew my chin higher and my shoulders squarer and more than a couple eyes on me. This was my city. I grew up here. I belonged here. I was home.
A gentleman a little older than myself offered to help me to my cab and asked about coffee (until Einar loomed nearer). I declined with the cheery, inward smile, and squished into the yellow car beside my bodyguard.
It was nice to be noticed, especially after coming off an hours-long flight where I'd spent the majority of my time drooling into a tiny pillow.
After everything had transpired there hadn't exactly been a lot of room for romance- nor should there be when you're traipsing across the Norwegian countryside, smelly and frizzy-haired and scared for your life. But life marched on and amorous thoughts -of wanting and being wanted- couldn't be held at bay forever.
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On the Line [Run Cold Book Two]
PertualanganAs May approaches, a recovering Allie decides whether or not the life of a queen is right for her, and who, if anyone, she wants at her side. But killing your ex's mother (who happened to be the former monarch) has inescapable consequences, as she...