Until Her (Sequel)

chapter eight

The wheels landed on the tarmac softly, gently waking me from my light dozing. Carter detached the earbuds from his ears, rubbing my thigh as he got our things situated and placed under the seat. The middle-aged flight attendant couldn't stop herself from gawking at Carter long enough to tell him he should have put his things underneath the seat long ago. She rose her chin, staring at him from the corner of her eye before situating herself back in her seat.

I was used to the stares my husband received from women of all ages, and it never made me jealous. It was more comical, thinking that any of them had a chance. Carter was mine, we were forever, and there was nothing on Earth that could possibly make me doubt it. I softly laughed, remembering the days I was trying so hard not to love him. In all reality, he had stolen a piece of my heart the night we met, although I hated him. But the more I tried hating him and pushing him away, the more I hoped he'd only come closer. I'd been in love with him since I was nineteen, and at twenty-six, I still feel the same.

The way he kisses my cheek each morning, the way he holds my hand while we navigate a crowd, how he looks at me while I'm getting dressed, laughs at how I eat noodles, holds me when I'm upset, tells me I'm beautiful when I know I'm not, gives me hope when I have none... he was everything. He is everything. I leaned over the seat, kissing him on the mouth hard. He was surprised in reaction but settled his mouth on mine quickly. I felt him smiling against my lips, making me do the same.

My mind flashed to another place, reminding me how sad I was to be going home. Paris was such a perfect adventure and getaway, the thought of returning to Atlanta was somewhat dreadful. Going home meant stepping back into reality. I tried not to ruin the moment, but Carter could see the concern etched across my face.

"Hey," he cupped my face. "We're going to be alright. You're going to kill that testimony in a couple days, and... and nothing else matters." He said, certain of himself. I knew he was right; nothing else mattered if we had each other.

"You and me." I smiled, kissing him once again.

Jet lag hit quickly once we picked up Bailey and slid the keys into the door of our apartment. It was only 6 PM, but I was ready for bed. Without even bothering to shower or change, we climbed into bed, Bailey resting between us. Not one of us moved all night; I woke up at 7:30 AM in the exact same position. My shoulder felt stiff. After rolling it backwards and forwards in circles, I stumbled into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee.

My eyes caught the folded paper on the counter; the notes I'd written on the plane for what I'd say at Warren's parole hearing. I turned on the coffee maker and slowly unfolded the papers, rereading what I'd said. My writing brain worked best at night, so writing on the plane was the perfect way for me to segway back into reality while also getting my best work in. I had to nail this speech, knowing my safety, and the safety of my family, depended on it.

Warren had managed to track me down in college, and I had no doubt he was capable of tracking me to Atlanta, too. I was thankful that Carter had mentioned moving; maybe it was the right move for us in general, but also the perfect escape from my pyscho high school ex-boyfriend. I began wondering what Warren looked like, six years older than before, and if he'd changed—if he still wore that same angry scowl that he had when he was attacking me, if he still would growl at the sight of me, if his eyes were still dark with hatred.

I tried not to be afraid. I won't fear him; I can't. It would cost me my sanity if I did. I inhaled the aroma coming from the coffee pot, snapping myself back to real life. I continued through my day as usual, only with heightened anxiety. I didn't leave the apartment all day, instead spending it on the recliner with my laptop. It was great for my novel, but terrible for me. I barely ate or drank anything all day, and my body was hating me for it. I almost heaved up the two pieces of toast I'd eaten for breakfast before Carter came home from soccer.