Page 51

“Did you want to come up?” Henry asks me as I park.

“Oh, I don't have to,” I tell him, not wanting to make anything weird. I know we had a wonderful date, but I’m not expecting anything else from him tonight. I’m still working to make him trust me, and I wasn't lying when I told him I’m willing to work as long as it takes.

It’s only been a month and a half, and I’m sure he needs more time.

“Amelia.” He tilts his head at me. “Stop being weird and help me put these things in water.” He notes the flowers currently sitting in my back seat .

“Okay,” I concede, and the two of us head into his place. There’s a card burning a hole in the pocket of my purse that I didn't include with the flowers; I was worried it was too much.

But maybe I should just go for it and take a risk? Most of the time, the risks I would take didn't actually make me feel nervous—it usually involved me running from my feelings.

This is an entirely different scenario. My throat is dry, this sweater dress I’m wearing suddenly feels itchy, and my palms are starting to get sweaty.

As soon as I step into his space, I feel immersed in another world. Somehow, he has more books than he did in college, and the earth tones mixed with splashes of lighter colors make it seem not too big or too small.

This apartment feels like the most familiar place I’ve ever been. Henry always was a creature of habit, and this apartment reminds me of the one he had back in college—mostly because there are books everywhere. It sort of feels like I walked into a library.

“Hot chocolate?” he asks as he fills his vase with water.

“That sounds perfect.” I smile as I trace his bookshelves with my fingers, eventually seeing the shield he has for every single copy of his favorite book of all time. There’s a few translations of it, some sprayed edges, and his original copy he was nice enough to lend to me back in college.

“You want to read my favorite book?” he asks me, a confused expression on his face.

“Of course I do,” I tell him. “It’s the closest I can get to understanding you on a different level. Unless you want me to poke around in your brain. I’m sure I can arrange something of the sort.”

Then he laughs at me, wrapping me in his arms in the middle of the study room, and I don’t tell him to pull away .

He brought it to me the next morning before he stole my favorite book from my nightstand.

“Here,” Henry says as he hands me a mug, breaking me out of the memory I was in before the two of us take a seat on his couch.

“Do you have a CD player by any chance?” I ask before I can stop it.

“Uh, yeah,” he says as he sets his mug down on the table, heading to another room. I hear him fumbling around for a few minutes before he returns with a pair of headphones as well. “What is this for?”

“Another surprise,” I say as I grab my purse and pull out the envelope, handing it to him. “For you.”

“Wow. First flowers, now a card,” he smiles at me. “What did I do to deserve all this?”

“Everything,” I say, tears already filling my eyes. “This is merely a fraction of what you deserve, Henry.”

He reads the card before he takes the disc and inserts it into the player, my heart beating out of my chest. He goes to press play, but I grab his hand before he presses the button.

“Headphones,” I remind him, plugging them in before handing him the one for his right ear as I put the other into my left. “I know we used to do this and we wouldn't say a word, but this time, I have some explaining to do.”

“Then I will sit back and let the master work,” he jokes, and I laugh as the first song plays. It’s the song playing at the concert when we first met.

I let the lyrics play for a few seconds before I open my mouth.

“This song reminds me of the first time I saw you,” I say, my voice already shaking. “Obviously, it was playing when you came up to me, but the first thing I noticed about you was how familiar you felt when I had never met you before.”

“Really? ”

“There was just something about you,” I tell him. “I still can’t put my finger on it.”

When the song finishes, another comes on by a completely different artist. This one is more upbeat, but underneath it are dreamy lyrics and beautiful metaphors about life.

“This one reminds me of your smile,” I giggle to myself. “Honestly, I have no reason, but every time I listen to it, all I can see in my head is you smiling at me, but in that specific Henry way.”

“What does that mean?” He laughs with me.

“Well, you smile differently. If you're with your friends, you show your teeth a bit more. When you’re focused on something you just wrote and you like it, you only turn your lips up, as if that smile is for you and your characters.” I start to trip over my words.

“But when you smile at me, it’s unique and beautiful, and I’ve only ever seen it pointed at me. ”

He tilts his head with the exact face I just described, and I don’t even think he knows he’s doing it.

The song finishes and another starts, and I’m thankful I burned this disc properly. Well, properly, with help from the girls and Oliver.

“This song reminds me of our first kiss.” I smile as the memories play in my mind.

“This was the exact song playing as we walked around campus, a shared headphone between us.”

I nod, happy he seems to remember it too. “It was a perfect night.”

“It was,” he agrees with me.

“You told me you loved me to this song,” I say as we let the music flow.

“I was in that parking lot, terrified you were going to say something else, but then you said you loved me. For the first time ever, I believed it. I knew I was capable of it because I felt the exact same way you did, but hearing it…” I trail off, unsure what to say.

“It changed a lot for me. You changed me, Henry, and I’ll never be able to properly thank you for that. ”

He shakes his head. “You don’t have to thank me for loving you, Amelia. It’s the most natural thing in the world. Hell, even when I was supposed to hate you, I couldn't—not fully, at least.”

Henry grabs my hands, and I meet his eyes.

“Loving you made me realize what most writers talk about in their novels. I never understood it—the feeling, at least. Obviously, I love my family and my friends, but romantically? I never understood it until you came into my life, and that changed. You made the words on the pages I read have meaning, and any time I thought of love, or read about love, or wrote about love, all I could see was you.”

“Henry—”

“Amelia, I love you. I have always loved you, and I always will. All the days we have left together, I’ll spend every single one of them loving you.”

I feel it again. I feel like I deserve this man in front of me. Somehow, he’s forgiven me for what I did, and out of the billions of people on the planet, he’s chosen me to love.

And I’m choosing him.

“You’re the only man I’ve ever loved, Henry.” I smile as a few tears come through. “I’m so excited I get to keep it that way.”

He grabs my face in his hands. “You love me?”

“Fuck, of course, I love you, Hen.”

“No more past tense?”

“We’re in the present now.” I smile as he captures my lips in his, the two of us connected in more than one way—our lips, our bodies, our shared music playing between us, our souls.

Henry has and always will be part of every atom in my body.

I can recognize him simply by his presence, the way his body takes up space in rooms, and I never want to be apart from him. Not now. Not ever again.

He leans me back on the couch, deepening the kiss as the two of us get tangled between the strings of the headphones.

“Henry,” I say as he presses kisses to my neck .

“Just let me enjoy my beautiful girlfriend properly,” he tells me. “God, you’re ethereal, Ames.”

“Girlfriend?”

His eyes meet mine. “Is that okay?”

“Say it again.”

“Amelia, my beautiful girlfriend,” he says. He presses a kiss to my shoulder before he slides his arms underneath my body and lifts me up. He pulls the headphones out from between us as he carries me to his room.

I can’t help the laugh that comes out, happiness radiating throughout my body as I squeeze my arms around his neck.

“Is this too fast?” I ask him as he sets me carefully onto his bed, the two of us knowing where this is headed.

“Amelia, it’s been years,” he tells me as he starts to unbutton his shirt. “I want to worship you properly tonight, if that’s okay?”

“That’s perfectly okay,” I say as I slip my dress over my head.

A moan slips out of his mouth as he runs his hands all over my body, kissing every single inch of skin he can.

“My God, Amelia,” he says. “You’re perfect.”

“How do you want me?” I ask, my body buzzing.

“Take off all your clothes,” he says as he slides his pants off. “Keep the necklace on, baby.”

I comply, and within seconds, Henry is on top of me, his soft skin brushing mine as he cups my face, kissing me deeply, his tongue threading with mine.

“Just the necklace? Really?” I joke, knowing he loves seeing me wear it because he bought it for me.

“It’s not because I want to own you, Amelia,” he says as his head settles between my legs. “I’m just gonna love seeing it around your neck while I make you mine again. ”

And then, his tongue is on me. I can barely think, react, anything because I’ve never had so many feelings in such a short time before. But that’s what Henry does to me. He makes me feel things, and sometimes, those are magnified more than they should be.

It’s overwhelming in the best way. I’ll never forget this moment with him, this start of us again. Eventually, all of the old, bad memories will be replaced by the new ones we create.

“Are you ready for me, Ames?”

“Please,” I say as I grab him by his hair and drag him up toward me. “I need to feel you, Henry.”

“Your wish is my command,” he says as he grabs a condom from his side table, rolls it on, and presses a kiss to my forehead as he slides into me in one thrust. His head falls to mine, the two of us overwhelmed by emotions. I slide his glasses off and set them on his side table. “God, you feel—”

“I need you to move, Henry,” I tell him as I squirm.

We had sex when we were in college before everything went to shit, but this time feels different.

I don’t know if it's because it’s been so long or because we’re different people now, but I can barely think or breathe unless it's about the beautiful man in front of me.

He starts slow at first, and I’m memorizing every ridge of his body, every face he makes as he slides in and out of my body. My hand goes to his back, and I feel the same birthmark there, nostalgia hitting me in the face from the last time we did this.

He picks up his pace, and I can’t help my moans as he starts to fuck me harder, deeper, hitting spots I haven't hit in years.

“Henry—”

“That’s it, baby,” he says with a smirk. “You’re taking me so well.”

“Fuck,” I say as he speeds up, my orgasm building as he coaxes me into it.

“Look at you, my beautiful girl,” he says, his hand coming behind my neck as he forces me to look at him. “I need you to come for me, Ames. Can you do that?”

I nod, and when he lifts my hips, it pushes me over the edge, his name the only thing on my lips.

“Amelia, fuck,” he says as I feel his dick twitch as he comes with me, the two of us a mess as we ride it out at the same time. I’ve never felt so close to anyone else before, and as I catch my breath, Henry discards the condom.

I feel like I’m lying here for hours until something comes up to my mouth.

“Drink, Mills,” he says as I take a few sips of water.

He sets the bottle on his table, immediately engulfing me in his arms as he gets us both comfortable underneath his sheets. He plays with my necklace with one hand while the other runs through my hair, and I could stay like this forever.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“What kind of question is that, Ames?” He presses a kiss to my shoulder. “You can stay here with me forever.”

“I’d like that,” I say as a tear slips from one of my eyes. “I’d like that a lot, Hen.”

“To our new beginning, Ames,” he says as my head turns to meet his.

“Our new beginning. I love you so much, Henry Hayes.”

“I love you, Amelia Ellis.”

Then he kisses me, and I fall asleep tangled in his arms, feeling more like myself every moment I’m with him. This is where I’m meant to be. After years of running and searching for a place to call mine, for a place to be comfortable in, I’ve found it wrapped in the arms of Henry Hayes.