Page 27

Chapter Sixteen

A s the plane dipped below a canopy of clouds, George leaned closer to the tiny window.

The city stretched out below him like a glittering treasure chest, its skyscrapers sparkling against the fading blush of the desert sunset.

Dubai wasn’t just big, it was opulent. Even from the air, it felt like another world entirely, one he wasn’t quite sure how to navigate yet.

A twinge of nervous energy curled in his stomach, but he shoved it aside.

He was here for her, for them . And that mattered more than anything.

“Cabin crew, prepare for landing,” crackled the announcement overhead, pulling him from his thoughts.

George exhaled slowly, running a hand through his short, slightly dishevelled hair.

His fingers brushed against the edge of the armrest, tapping out an uneven rhythm, a habit of his when he was restless.

By the time he stepped off the plane and into the warm, perfumed air of the terminal, his pulse had settled into something steadier.

Myst had arranged everything, of course; her attention to detail evident in every step of the process.

A man dressed in sharp black attire greeted him with a polite nod and led him to a sleek private car waiting outside.

The leather seats practically swallowed George as he climbed in.

The driver eased the car into motion, merging seamlessly onto the well-lit streets.

George watched the city blur past the tinted windows; the impossibly clean sidewalks, and silhouettes of impeccably dressed strangers.

Everything about this place screamed extravagance, and while it was dazzling, it was also daunting.

He couldn’t help but think of home, the easy sprawl of the Gold Coast beaches, the salty breeze tangling in his hair after practice.

This, though? This was Myst’s world. Glorious. Expansive. A little bit intimidating.

“Alright, mate,” George muttered under his breath, straightening in his seat. “You’ve got this.”

The door to Myst’s suite swung open before George could knock twice, revealing her petite figure framed by the golden glow of the room behind her.

She was barefoot, dressed in loose, silky loungewear that shimmered softly as she moved.

Her dark hair tumbled over her shoulders, and her pale blue eyes widened when they met his.

“George!” she exclaimed, her voice breaking into a delighted laugh. Before he could respond, she launched herself at him, arms wrapping tightly around his torso. Her head barely reached his chest, but what she lacked in height, she made up for in sheer enthusiasm.

“Hey, hey, easy there,” George teased, catching her effortlessly and laughing as he staggered back half a step. “You’ll knock me flat if you’re not careful.”

“With those rugby muscles? Not a chance,” she quipped, pulling back just enough to look up at him. There was a playful glint in her eyes, but her expression softened as she studied his face. “I missed you,” she said, quieter this time, the words carrying more weight than their simplicity suggested.

“Yeah?” George grinned, brushing a stray lock of hair away from her cheek. “Well, I missed you and the sound of you hyping up my muscles. So we’re even.”

Myst rolled her eyes but laughed, the sound filling the space between them like music.

She grabbed his hand, tugging him inside, and closed the door with a soft click.

The suite was every bit as extravagant as the city itself, with plush furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the skyline, and a marble table adorned with fresh flowers and an unopened bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice.

But George barely noticed any of it. His focus stayed firmly on Myst.

“How do you look this good after weeks on the road?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as she perched on the sofa and patted the spot beside her.

“Magic,” she answered matter-of-factly, patting her cheeks as if to emphasize her point. “And maybe a little caffeine. Okay, a lot of caffeine.”

“Figures,” he said, sinking down next to her with a sigh. “I’m pretty sure I aged ten years just flying here.”

“Poor thing,” Myst teased, resting her hand lightly on his knee. Her voice softened again, her smile turning wistful. “You didn’t have to come all this way, you know.”

“Of course I did.” George turned toward her, his gaze steady and sincere. “This isn’t just a visit, Myst. It’s us figuring out how to make this work. You and me. And for the record,” he reached out, brushing his thumb along her jawline, “I’d fly halfway across the world for you anytime.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Myst leaned into the touch, her eyes fluttering closed as the tension of the past few weeks seemed to melt away.

Then, without warning, she shifted closer, curling into his side and resting her head against his chest. George wrapped an arm around her instinctively, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“I’ve missed you every day,” he murmured into her hair, his voice low and rough.

“Every day?” she asked, tilting her head just enough to glance up at him, a faint smirk pulling at her lips.

“Every single one,” he confirmed.

“Good,” Myst whispered, settling back against him. “Because I’ve been counting the days too.”

She felt like home, George realised with a sudden, blinding flash of clarity.

He hadn’t felt quite right in his own skin since he left Rome; everything had felt subtly off somehow, unfamiliar, even his mum’s kitchen and his everyday training routine.

But here, in a room he’d never seen in his life before, home was the slender woman curled in his arms. He held her tighter and closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of her hair and fully relaxing for the first time in weeks.

“Alright, big guy,” Myst said after a couple of minutes. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“Another one?” George teased, arching a brow as she scrambled to her feet and headed over to the piano in the corner… a piano in a hotel suite! Her management had certainly pushed the boat out for her here. “You keep this up, I might start getting spoiled.”

“Please,” Myst scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“You’re impossible to spoil. Too grounded or whatever.

” She perched on the piano bench, her fingers brushing over the keys without pressing down.

Then her expression softened, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through the mask of confidence.

“But… this is different. It’s something I’ve been working on for weeks. For you.”

George froze in the middle of getting up to go over to her, his gaze locking onto hers. “For me? You mean, that song… the lyrics you showed me on the train?”

“Yeah,” she murmured, looking down at the piano now, suddenly shy. Her hands hovered above the keys for a moment longer before she took a deep breath and began to play.

The first notes were delicate, tentative, like a whisper carried on the wind.

But as Myst leaned into the melody, her voice rose, soft yet rich, every word laced with raw emotion.

The lyrics painted their story in vivid strokes: the shock of falling for each other at first sight, the ache of distance, the weight of expectations, the quiet joy of stolen moments.

It was as if she’d reached into their shared memories and woven them into something tangible, something eternal.

George didn’t move. He couldn’t. His feet seemed rooted to the plush carpet, his chest tightening with each line she sang. Her voice filled the room, wrapping around him like a warm embrace, and for the first time in his life, he felt utterly unguarded. Vulnerable in the best way.

When the final note faded into silence, Myst looked up at him, her pale blue eyes searching his face. “Well?” she asked softly, almost nervous. “What do you think?”

George blinked, realizing too late that tears had pooled in his eyes. He let out a shaky laugh, swiping at his cheek with the back of his hand. “Myst,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “That’s… that’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. I don’t even have words for it.”

“Good,” she quipped, though her own voice wavered slightly as relief washed over her features. “Means I did my job right.”

He crossed the room in two long strides, cupping her face in his hands and tilting her head up so she couldn’t look anywhere but at him. “You didn’t just do your job,” he said earnestly. “You gave me something I’ll never forget. Thank you.”

She smiled, leaning into his touch, and for a moment they stayed like that: her seated on the piano bench, him towering over her, their foreheads nearly touching.

“Guess I’ve got a knack for making tough rugby players cry,” she teased after a beat, her grin turning playful again.

“Don’t push it,” George shot back, though the corners of his mouth twitched upward despite himself. He leaned down to kiss her, slow and deliberate, as if trying to pour all the gratitude and love he couldn’t put into words directly into the gesture.

Myst melted into him, standing to close the distance between their bodies. “Come here,” she whispered, tugging him by the hand toward the massive bed draped in crisp white linens. “Tonight isn’t about schedules or headlines or anything else. It’s just us.”

George nodded, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. Their lips met again, and this time, the kiss deepened, carrying the weight of everything they’d been through and everything they still hoped to build together.

As Myst’s song played quietly in the background, looping on the sleek sound system, they lost themselves in each other.

Every caress felt like a promise, every whispered name like an anchor tethering them to this moment.

Beyond the glass, Dubai sparkled with its endless hum of life, but within these walls, it was quiet, just the rhythm of their breaths, the slide of skin on skin, and the music they’d created together.