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California is different.
It’s warm and sunny and exciting and empty.
The house is big – too big – and after weeks of Emma complaining about the move, about her leaving her boyfriend of two months and being “torn away from her father”, she clicks with some girls from school and suddenly Amy barely sees her. She’s busy with her friends and enjoying the city and though Amy knows she’d never admit it, Emma’s happy.
Parker is less fazed – in the beginning. Right when Emma starts settling in and finding her place, Parker starts having issues sleeping through the night, throwing fits left right and centre. He’s always been a calm baby, even a relatively calm toddler, but it’s as though he had a time delay on his reaction to the move and is suddenly more than making up for it.
Thankfully work is relatively easy; with only having to manage one job instead of two she almost finds it seamless.
And between settling in at her job and in the house and managing the kids, she’s busy enough that she can ignore the gaping hole in her chest, stuffing it full with everything else on her plate.
Until Parker starts calling out for Jonah when he wakes in the middle of the night, thoroughly unimpressed by the fact that Jonah is nowhere to be found. He wails and glares at her in a way it took Emma thirteen years to perfect and she doesn’t know what to do.
“I know, I know,” she murmurs, trying to offer some comfort to a toddler that’s thrashing around and refusing her touch entirely.
She wants Jonah too.
She wants to go to sleep beside him every night, press her cold feet against his shins and watch him squirm. Wants to find him in her kitchen when she gets home from work having had an absurd impulse to try to make pasta from scratch.
But she wouldn’t let circumstances push her into another marriage, even if it feels like her soul has been torn in two. If it’s meant to be, maybe it’ll work out. Someday, she thinks, after Parker has tired himself out and is slowly falling back to sleep. She lies on the floor in his room, trying to rationalise it all.
Even amongst the grief and sadness and missing him, she feels relief. Overwhelming relief knowing that they didn’t rush into anything, that she didn’t make Jonah uproot his life for her only to let him down.
But fuck, it hurts.
…
Adam flies out to spend a week with the kids, and for the first time he sticks to his word. He gets a hotel close by and shows up each morning to collect them, returning them at the promised time each night. He takes them to see the Golden Gate bridge, ferries Emma from one social engagement to another while entertaining Parker, and three days in she’s not certain he’s the man she once knew.
The kids are thrilled to see him, to have his reliable, undivided attention and Amy finds herself pleasantly surprised.
She invites him for dinner on the third night, and when Emma’s absconded to her room and Parker’s down for the night, she hovers at the door, showing him out.
“I really appreciate you coming out to see them,” she says. She paid for the flights, but he’s covering the motel, and he was surprisingly helpful in making it all happen. He was willing to let her move the kids to California on the promise of visits whenever he could make it work, and he’s stuck to his word, flying out six weeks after the move.
“I wanted to,” he says, frowning in that way he does when he doesn’t quite understand. “I’ve missed them.”
She swallows, the guilt rising in her chest.
She has torn her kids from their father, as Emma screamed at her in their first week in California. As much as she tries to facilitate trips for the kids to St Louis and trips for Adam to San Francisco, that is the reality of it.
“But it’s okay,” he adds. “It’s made me appreciate this week, and really make the most of seeing them. I want to try to come out at least once a month, if I can swing it with work – if you’d be okay with it.”
She looks at him for the first time in years, wonders exactly when it was that he grew up and decided to take responsibility for his life and his kids.
“Of course. I don’t want to keep them from you,” she says.
He nods. “Thanks, Amy.”
She returns the nod, waving as he descends the front porch steps.
She wonders if this is all it took for them to have an easier relationship, a bit of space.
Hopes that it’s a sign of what’s to come.
…
She doesn’t date.
It isn’t intentional, but she’s not exactly putting herself out there, and between work and the kids it’s not as though she’s meeting many people.
A year passes, and Emma starts dating the captain of the basketball team and Amy bites her tongue so hard it hurts. She’s a teenager, and as much as Amy wants to force the wisdom of her experience down her daughter’s throat, she remembers how her own mother had been so against Adam, so strict, and where that lead. So she smiles and has the boy for dinner and is perfectly polite and takes deep breaths.
When Emma leaves for college Amy feels relief far greater than she expected. Relief and pride and gratitude that Emma will have a million more chances than she ever did and will hopefully have a far easier path to wherever she wants to be.
Plus, she’s only twenty minutes away at Berkeley, and Amy is beyond grateful that she didn’t end up pushing Emma away to the other side of the country like she always worried she would.
It might have helped that her boyfriend got into San Francisco State, and Amy’s reminded that not everything turns out the way she fears it will.
Over a year after the move, Amy allows her co-worker to set her up with a friend, and it’s fine. He’s perfectly pleasant and she kisses him at the end of the night in an effort to feel something.
But she doesn’t. Not really. It’s just fine. And she thinks maybe that’s okay.
…
…
…
Cloud 9 was supposed to be a pitstop. A snack, something to eat.
Then it was an impulse. Maybe fate. They were looking for staff; he was floundering and looking for something to tether himself to. A job. A future. Something.
He thought he’d give it a go, earn a little money and then figure out if going back to business school was what he really wanted.
And then there was her.
He’d never fallen quite so quickly before – not even when he was a teenager. He’d never felt anything like it.
And somehow even though there were the parts of the job he should’ve hated, he couldn’t find it in himself to feel anything but excited to go to work each day. To see Amy. To make her laugh.
Without her, the job feels aimless.
He moves back in with Garrett because he can’t afford the rent on the house and he can’t seem to find a suitable apartment.
He goes to work, he goes home to Garrett’s spare room, he does it again.
He doesn’t know what he’s doing.
Garrett sees it coming; he isn’t even surprised.
He needs something different, a twist of fate or impulse somewhere other than St Louis, where all he can see is Amy and the family he thought he was a part of that moved away without him.
…
He goes to New York. Chicago is tainted with school and Cloud 9; New York is a fresh start. Brand new. A city big enough to hide away in, a city big enough to figure out what’s next.
He finds a job at a café in the city run by an Australian couple and finds himself oddly at home. They have a five-year-old son with blonde hair and blue eyes and he tries and fails not to think about Parker, growing up in California. Parker who won’t even remember him.
He pushes that thought down, focuses on the work. It’s almost mindless once he gets the hang of it. Methodical. He doesn’t mind it.
…
He starts sleeping around.
He isn’t not proud of it, but in his defence it’s not as though he’s actively trying.
Girls flirt with him from across the counter and he doesn’t hate it. Feeling desired.
Somewhere along the way, he finds himself quasi-dating a grad student at NYU. It’s casual and infrequent, but eventually more weekends than not he spends with her.
He doesn’t feel the spark, the immediate affection that he felt for Amy, and he thinks it’s a good thing. Starts wondering if he has always been too quick to jump in, too many steps ahead of the person he’s with; too focused on himself.
Leah’s beautiful and smart and interested in him, and they have fun together. She asks if he wants to see obscure documentaries at small theatres in the city and recommends podcasts he’s not familiar with and he likes her. He doesn’t love her, not yet, but maybe he could.
Four months of casual dating have passed when she breaks it off.
“I’m just not feeling that spark,” she tells him, straightforward and honest. No stammering things she thinks he wants to hear. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. Okay,” he says. He’s disappointed, but it pales in comparison to the ache Amy left in his soul, and he figures it probably wasn’t fair to Leah anyway. That he probably should deal with that before dragging someone else into his life.
But she makes him think about what he wants. About going to law school and funnelling his passion for justice into something useful.
He works as much as he can and he plans and he studies for the LSAT, ensconced in his own bubble and happy enough with the friends he’s made in his employers, his co-workers. He doesn’t tell his parents, fearful of making the same mistakes again.
It’s three months later that Leah returns.
He smiles when she walks through the front door of the café, genuinely pleased to see her. But when she meets his eyes he falters. She looks… afraid. Afraid in a way that he’s not seen before, not in her.
“You okay?” He starts, bypassing the hellos.
“I’m pregnant.”
…
He doesn’t quite know how it happened. Tries to remember when they last had sex, though it’s entirely useless. He doesn’t doubt her; she’s not a liar.
“I—” he stammers, uncertain of how to respond. It’s déjà vu, except for the deafening sound of blood rushing in his ears as his body reacts to the weight of responsibility before his brain has a chance to catch up.
“I’m keeping it,” she says, her eyes level with his. She’s gained confidence since getting the initial words out, as though she practiced the speech, and she continues. “I’m keeping it and I don’t expect anything, really, I just thought I should tell you. I’m due in October.”
She hands him a crumpled printout, an ultrasound photo that he can’t quite grasp.
He can’t seem to form words.
“I’m going to grab some food,” she says, gesturing to where Georgia stands at the register, trying to pretend she didn’t hear but failing miserably, the shock in her eyes a dead giveaway.
By the time she orders and collects her muffin, he at least can get words out.
“I’ll be there,” he says finally, wincing when the sentiment comes out garbled. “I want to be involved,” he tries again.
“I don’t want to get back together,” she warns him. “It’s a shit reason to stay together.”
He thinks of Amy, surprised by the way her memory drops into his head unbidden, even now.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “Okay.”
She looks at him, her eyes scared but determined.
“Okay.”
…
The love he feels for Olivia is instant and immense and more than anything he’s ever felt in his life. She has bright blue eyes and a round nose and she looks at him with a kind of brilliant wonder that he wants to stare at for the rest of his life.
Leah dozes and he holds Olivia against his chest, savouring the quiet in their tiny hospital room, their tiny corner of the world.
She’s perfect. Maybe the only perfect thing in the world. And for all the broken hearts and twists of fate in his life, he can’t find fault in any of it because he’s here and he has the most perfect daughter and he wouldn’t change a thing.
…
He ages a decade in the first year of her life, he’s certain.
He ends up moving in with Leah, purely because it saves them both time and money. It means less shuffling of Olivia, though still a decent amount with both of them working. He sleeps on the futon and keeps his things in a closet and he doesn’t even mind, because when Olivia cries in the middle of the night he’s there to feed her and soothe her and be her dad. Georgia lets him bring Olivia into the café when he has no other options and he pushes the idea of law school to the back of his mind temporarily and they make it work. He’s exhausted and struggling but happy and they make it work.
He moves out after Olivia’s first birthday, and the nights apart tear his soul apart in ways he didn’t prepare for. But he puts his head down and picks up extra shifts where he can and starts thinking about the LSAT again. Considering. Wondering if it’s entirely too selfish to pursue with a thirteen month old.
Thinks he’ll keep it on the backburner, maybe reconsider once Olivia’s at school and he has marginally more time. Maybe.
…
Olivia is inquisitive. She asks questions constantly and she fills every silence she can find. She has her mother’s eyes, blue as the ocean and his dark hair. His inability to leave well enough alone.
“Why not?” she asks, jumping messily in a puddle of melted snow, splashing water and mud all over herself and his jeans.
He’s learned not to get frustrated or annoyed, particularly given that Liv couldn’t care less about mud stains on her jeans.
“Their wings aren’t strong enough,” he guesses, hoping to put the line of questioning to bed. It’s his own fault for telling her that not all birds can fly.
She mulls it over as they make it home, leaving muddy footprints in their wake.
“I think it’s bath time, bug,” he says, taking her coat.
She turns to face him, her face upturned.
“Wh-”
“Because you’re filthy,” he laughs, interrupting her predictable line of questioning.
She giggles, acquiescing.
At four she’s far too precocious, and her childish giggles always make his heart swell.
Hopes that will never change.
…
…
…
He really never thought he’d see her again.
At first he’s almost certain he’s hallucinating.
He’s standing in New York City; she lives in California.
He blinks.
“Jonah?”
Her hair is short again, falling just below her chin.
“Hi,” he manages. “You’re in New York.”
“You’re in New York,” she says, surprised.
He nods, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“I live here,” he says. “What are you doing here?”
“Emma moved out here last year,” she says. “We’re visiting for the week.”
“Oh,” he nods. He doesn’t know what to make of it, what to say.
He never thought he’d see her again.
Fuck, she’s beautiful.
“How are you?” she asks, licking her lips nervously.
“I’m good,” he nods, glancing at his watch, conscious of the time. He has to pick Olivia up from school in thirty minutes. He’s somewhat grateful to know he has an out, a reason to leave that he can’t deny.
“You?”
“Are you in a rush?” She asks, bemused, and he finds himself distracted by her smile. It’s like he’s twenty-eight and standing in Cloud 9 like a lovesick puppy all over again and he swallows, embarrassed.
“I—” he pauses, feeling odd that someone he used to know so well, someone he still feels like he knows after all this time, wouldn’t know about Olivia.
“I have to pick up my daughter from school,” he explains, as her eyes widen briefly.
She smiles blindingly then, the joy she feels for him unmistakeable, her eyes bright with it.
“You have a daughter?”
“Olivia,” he says, nodding. “She’s five.”
“Wow,” she murmurs. “I’m happy for you, Jonah,” she says warmly.
“Thanks.”
“Are you busy later?” He wonders, the words falling out before he can stop himself.
“Emma’s taking us to dinner,” she winces, apologetic. “But I’m free tomorrow? Emma’s going to take Parker to the zoo, so I’m free all day.”
He nods, for the first time following her gaze into the store they’re standing in front of, seeing Emma at the counter with a boy he can only assume to be Parker. Tall and dark haired, with the same kind eyes he had as a toddler. Grown.
He swallows thickly, not expecting the ache in his chest.
“Okay,” he agrees. “I could do breakfast? I work at the café on the corner – we could meet there?”
She nods, her eyes soft when he finally meets her gaze.
The hurt is still there, the wrenching hole she left in him when she decided she didn’t want to marry him and took Emma and Parker and moved to California. He thought it was gone, that he had moved past it, but it burns and he needs to leave.
“I’ve got to get going,” he says suddenly. “I’ll see you.”
He shoves his hands in his coat and moves past her without another word, desperate to leave before Parker and Emma emerge. Before he has to see Parker, the kid who taught him how to be a dad, look at him like a stranger.
He’s jittery and out of sorts until he sees Olivia.
She’s bouncing off the walls, hyper and energetic even after a full day of school but she calms him. She’s all he needs. They walk home, and by the time they open the front door he feels almost normal.
They eat dinner in front of Frozen and he lets her stay up for the sequel knowing she’ll fall asleep on the couch before they reach halfway. When she does he carries her to bed, tidying up and busying himself so he doesn’t overthink tomorrow.
He’s a different person than he was seven years ago. He’s not the same man who wanted to marry Amy, completely blind to whether she wanted the same thing. He’s grown. He’s a father. He has a plan for his life, somewhat. He has a job he enjoys, with people he loves like a family.
It’ll be fine.
…
Leah was supposed to collect Olivia at eight.
Olivia’s dressed, hair braided, coat on, and her bag packed for a weekend with her mother and grandmother.
“I’m running late,” is the first thing she says when he calls.
He sighs, frustrated that today of all days she’s running late. “How late?”
“Late,” she says vaguely; he can hear her moving hurriedly in the background. “I’m sorry – I was working late and I overslept, I’m maybe an hour away.”
“I have to be at work, Lee,” he says, annoyed. It’s not strictly true, but the idea of Amy meeting Olivia, of seeing Amy with Olivia, has his stomach twisting for a reason he can’t quite name.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “Maybe I could collect her from the café? It’d be no more than forty minutes, I promise.”
“Okay. We’ll meet you there.”
He can’t do anything other than agree. She’s always so reliable with their changeovers he can’t deny her grace on the odd occasion – she always does it for him. Even if it means the possibility of Amy meeting Olivia. Maybe she won’t. Maybe it’ll be fine.
…
“You’re not working today,” Olivia tells him as he locks the door and they start down the stairs.
“How’d you know that?”
“You told me yesterday. You said you were going to study today.”
“I did,” he agrees. Tries to forget the upcoming deadline to register for the LSAT and the decision weighing on his shoulders. “But I’m meeting a friend for breakfast first.”
“What friend?”
Olivia swings his arm back and forth, her excitement needing an outlet.
“An old friend. You might even get to meet her before your mom comes to pick you up.”
She frowns, winding up for another line of questioning, and he diverts her before she can speak.
“Are you excited to see Nan? I bet she can’t wait to see you.”
“Yes,” Olivia beams, successfully distracted. “She said the tomatoes are ready to pick and I can’t wait.”
Olivia jumps with the end of the sentence, too much energy for even a five-year-old, he thinks. She’s been obsessed with the vegetable garden they started planting, and after so many visits where she was told they weren’t ready yet, today’s the day. They’re making a whole weekend of it.
“Are you going to bring some home or eat them all?” He teases, nudging her.
She ignores his tone, contemplative. “I don’t know.”
He grins.
…
“You’re not working today,” Georgia tells him when he walks through the door.
“I know,” he says. “I’m just here for the welcoming company.”
She rolls her eyes, wiping down a table as a couple come in behind him and take it quickly.
“I’m meeting a friend for breakfast and Leah’s swinging by to pick up Olivia.”
She leads them through to the register.
“We don’t have a table,” she warns them. “You’ll have to sit in the back unless one opens up.”
“That’s okay,” he says, his eyes landing on Amy at the table in the corner.
She’s always prettier than he remembers.
He nods towards Amy, and Georgia follows his eyeline.
“Who’s that?”
“Amy,” he admits, and she does a double take.
“Wow.”
“Who’s Amy?” Olivia demands, looking up at him with a frown. She can tell that Georgia knows but she doesn’t, and her eyebrows furrow adorably.
“Amy’s an old friend. C’mon, you can meet her.”
Amy stands when they approach, her smile warm.
“Hey.”
“Hey. Amy, this is Olivia, Olivia this is Amy.”
“Hi Olivia,” Amy says, “I’m so happy to meet you.”
“Hi.”
Olivia’s uncharacteristically shy and he laughs, taking a seat and lifting her into his lap.
“Her mom’s picking her up in about twenty minutes, she’s running late,” he explains.
Amy nods.
“We’re going to New Jersey to see Nan,” Olivia offers suddenly. “For the whole weekend.”
“Wow,” Amy grins. “Sounds like fun. What are you going to do there?”
Any shyness that was plaguing Olivia fades with that one question as she launches into an explanation of the veggie garden and the tomatoes and how they’re going to have tomato everything all weekend.
Amy’s gaze flickers to him, her eyes soft, and he allows a short smile before returning his attention to Liv, who continues on about all the other things they’re going to plant.
“Sorry I’m late.”
He blinks to see Leah beside the table, looking harried and apologetic.
“It’s been one of those days, and it’s not even nine.”
“No worries,” he grins, shifting in his seat to allow Olivia to stand as she tries to decide between finishing her story and pestering her mother so they can get on the road.
“This is Amy,” he starts, looking between them. “Amy this is Leah.”
Amy smiles, standing to reach out her hand.
“It’s nice to meet you.”
Leah returns the sentiment, her façade flawless, but her eyes flick to him and he knows that she’s remembering that night they spent explaining past relationships, the way he’d described Amy. He’d known then that she could tell he wasn’t over it, not really, and her gaze feels heavy now.
“We should get going, bug, if you want to get to your tomatoes.”
“Yessss,” Olivia grins. “Bye, dad.”
“Bye, Liv.” She wraps her arms around his neck in a hug.
“I’ll bring you one tomato,” she whispers and he grins.
“Okay.”
“Bye Amy,” she says before tugging on her mother’s hand, impatient.
“Bye, Olivia.”
“It was nice to meet you,” Leah offers as she waves goodbye, snaking a path around people to the door.
He takes his time turning back to Amy, feels the weight of her stare, of sharing so much of his life with her so soon after only just running into her.
When he finally meets her gaze she’s smiling, her eyes glassy.
“She’s perfect, Jonah,” she says, sincere. “She’s so much like you.”
He hums, unsure. He sees Leah in her, for sure. Thinks her ability to talk endlessly is probably his genes. But otherwise, she’s just Liv. Perfect – like Amy said.
“You and Leah…”
He can tell she’s searching, looking for an easy way to learn the lay of the land.
He clears his throat, answers her unfinished question.
“We aren’t together,” he confirms. “Haven’t been in years.”
Amy nods, her expression unreadable.
“How’s Zephra?” He asks, seeking safer territory.
Amy accepts the diversion, nodding and explaining how she’s spent the last few years at Zephra, the initiatives she’s been able to implement, the changes that have been made as a result of her efforts.
In turn he explains how he ended up in New York working for Georgia, how the last few years have been about Olivia almost entirely and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
It’s almost as if it hasn’t been years, as if she didn’t break his heart and set his life on a whole other course entirely.
When people start filtering in for the lunch rush and Georgia starts eyeing him to fuck off and leave the table for paying customers, they take the hint and leave, spilling out onto the street.
There’s a weighted pause, as he tries to think of what to say, how to end this surprisingly pleasant meeting. Is this where she disappears into the crowds of the city, never to be seen again? Will this be an odd blip in his radar, a short catch up before they head their separate ways again? Is that what he wants?
He can’t help but think not, given that he’s searching for anything to say other than the expected goodbye.
“My hotel’s a block from here,” Amy offers, the words hanging between them as they linger on the sidewalk.
His brain is screaming at him to say goodbye, to leave it be, but her eyes are magnetic and he says the words before he remember it’s a bad idea.
“I’ll walk you.”
Her lips curl into a smile as she leads the way, the silence not unpleasant.
He’s missed her. Missed being with her, if only walking together when the conversation lulls. There’s a peace that settles over him when he’s with her that evidently never went away, and he doesn’t want to let it go yet.
Amy hesitates when they reach her hotel, watching him carefully before he silently walks with her to the elevator. It’s when they reach the door to her room that she pauses.
It’s real now, not a veiled offer to walk her home. He could leave and they could both pretend that this was never going to happen, that it was a completely benign offer to see her back to her hotel safely.
He should say goodbye, he knows. It would be a terrible idea to do anything else, it would undo years of moving on that weren’t all that easy, even if he didn’t move far.
But her eyes sparkle when they meet his, her tongue darting out over her bottom lip and he can’t resist the pull any longer. He leans in and lets her close the gap, her lips an insistent press against his own.
He groans softly, the sound muffled by her mouth as he kisses her back, suddenly desperate. It’s been almost seven years and he needs her in a way he didn’t know possible.
She fumbles with her hotel key and he chuckles, following her when the door clicks open and she steps inside.
She toes off her shoes and he follows suit, before falling onto the bed with her in a mess of awkward limbs.
She laughs, tugging at the buttons on his shirt, and as he looks at her laid on the hotel bedspread, her hair tangled, nothing has ever felt more perfect.
…
He props on his side, looking at her as she feigns sleepiness, her eyes fluttering.
There are more smile lines etched on her face, and there’s a glow about her that seems new. Maybe the California sun.
She’s beautiful. Serene on the crisp white hotel linens, even as she pretends to be sleeping.
He lets her pretend, enjoying the chance to look at her, to prolong the haze of sex and endorphins, before reality sets in and he remembers why this was a terrible idea.
“Stop staring at me,” she chides, a smile playing on her lips even as her eyes stay closed.
He laughs, falling back onto his back but twisting his head to keep his eyes on her.
“This was probably a terrible idea,” she says, chancing a glance at him before closing her eyes again.
“Probably,” he agrees. Lets his hand wander to her hip, rubbing circles there with his thumb. “But maybe we should do it again, just to be sure.”
Her eyes open then, sparkling with mirth.
“Mmm, you’re probably right. Just to be sure.”
He grins.
He knows this is going to hurt. That it will be agony.
This ends with Amy going back to California; he’s been here before.
But for now… it’s amazing.
…
“What happened with you and Leah?” She asks, right in the dwindling moments before bliss becomes reality. Right when he’s staring at her like the mirage she might as well be; about to disappear.
He squints, trying to read her. Wondering if it’s pure curiosity or something else.
“You don’t have to say,” she says in his silence, scrambling as she realises she’s popped the bubble, that maybe it’s not an easy question to answer.
“We were dating for a few months, pretty casual. Broke up. She sought me out a few months later, told me she was pregnant.”
It’s a simple story really, fairly devoid of heartache and pain. Sometimes he wishes he could provide Olivia with a stable two parent family, but for the most part he thinks their arrangement works well. She has two stable loving parents who are good friends. Compared to his own experiences in a supposedly stable two parent household, he thinks Olivia has the better deal.
“That’s it?” Amy wonders, almost confused.
“Yeah. Olivia was born, we share custody. We get on well; we both love Olivia. It’s pretty straightforward.”
Amy smiles.
“You never got back together?”
It’s pure curiosity now, he can tell. Analysis. Comparison.
“No. She was clear she didn’t want to and I didn’t want to either. It made it easier, taking the emotions out of it, we can just focus on Olivia. We lived together until she was a little older than one, but it was just to save money and time ferrying Olivia back and forth.”
Amy hums, staring at the ceiling.
“You make it sound easy.”
He laughs.
“It’s not easy. Our relationship is relatively easy. But I still only see Olivia three days a week, and it’s a nightmare to organise, even if Leah and I get on well. Sometimes I go a week without seeing her at all just because of the logistics of it all. You know.”
Her mouth twists.
He doesn’t know how she’s managed it with Adam all the way in St Louis – as far as he knows. Maybe he ended up moving out to California too. Maybe he took the easy out and hasn’t seen his kids in years. His heart aches at the possibility for Emma and Parker, hopes that isn’t the case.
The conversation fades and the bed feels cold, no longer a cocoon of sex separate from reality, and she sits up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.
His eyes track her bare back, the freckles that dance across her shoulders.
She twists to meet his gaze.
“I should really get back to the kids,” she says, and he recognises the regret in her tone, knows she’s not making an excuse.
“Yeah, yep,” he mumbles, watching for a moment more as she dresses methodically before getting up and hunting down clothes of his own.
The air feels thick between them, the uncertainty almost visible.
He knows that this is where it ends. She’s only here for a few more days, chances are he’ll never see her again.
“Do you want to see them? Emma and Parker – before we fly back?” she asks suddenly.
He glances at her, buttoning her shirt with shaking hands. She’s uncertain in her offer, afraid she made a bad decision in even throwing it out there, but he’s too focused on how to respond.
“You don’t have to,” she hastens to add. “I just thought…”
He swallows. Emma’s an adult now. A college graduate, living and working in New York. And Parker… the last time he saw Parker he was learning to speak. And now he’s a few years older than Olivia.
“I don’t know,” he admits.
It’ll hurt, the lack of recognition in Parker’s face. Being reminded that at one point in his life he thought he’d be a father figure to a boy he no longer recognises. But to miss out…
“Okay,” he agrees. “Yes.”
He wonders if Parker plays football or runs track.
“Okay,” she returns, offering a brief grin. “How’s tomorrow night?”
He nods. Olivia will still be with Leah; tomorrow’s perfect.
“Tomorrow works,” he says.
…
Emma is an adult. He knew it, intellectually, but seeing her sit across from him at a dinner table, talking about her job and the tiny apartment she shares with a friend from college, there’s no trace of the teenager he once knew.
And Parker…
Parker’s reserved and shy, only coming out of his shell briefly at the coaxing of his sister or mother, but Jonah doesn’t mind. He focuses on the conversation, asking Emma about what she studied at school and what made her choose New York, because if he pauses too long he starts to wonder what might have been.
If Emma would have chosen to stay close to her mom for college, if Jonah had come with them to California. If Parker would be so quiet and unwilling to engage with him. If Amy would be making such a conscious effort to avoid any and all physical contact with him when they’re pressed into a too-small booth.
The possibilities are endless and it makes his head spin, his resentment towards Amy bubbling in ways he didn’t think possible after so many years, after them being absent yesterday.
They step out onto the street, and he awkwardly says goodbye to Emma and Parker, who walk ahead as Amy lingers.
“I feel like this was a bad idea,” she says, the words spilling out.
“Why?” He asks, his tone too sharp and she raises her eyebrows, pointed.
“You’re frustrated,” she says. “Annoyed at me in a way you weren’t two hours ago.”
He sighs.
“I just…”
The box where he shoved her memory has opened since he first saw her on the street, and right now it hurts. The reminder of what he lost.
“I guess it still hurts,” he admits, surprising himself with his honesty.
Amy nods, ducking her head. He can see the regret playing across her face, feels like an asshole for bringing it up.
He sighs.
It’s been years and it still hurts and he’s still crazy for her and he doesn’t know what to make of it.
But she’s going back to California tomorrow, and maybe he’ll never have to figure it out. “I’m looking at moving out here,” she admits. “It was the reason for the trip. Emma’s settled out here, and there’s a promotion available at Zephra which would have me in New York.”
He blinks.
His stomach twists.
His heart jumps.
Fuck.
One weekend with her, some excellent sex, a little catching up and the promise of more and he can feel himself ready to jump the minute she asks.
He won’t be that person again.
“You know where to find me if you do,” he says finally, offering a smile and a light hug before turning in the other direction.
…
He doesn’t know what he wants.
He honestly hasn’t considered it. He locked Amy in a tiny box in the back of his mind and has tried for the last seven years to forget. Forget how hopelessly in love with her he was, the way she pulled the rug out from under him when she said she didn’t want to marry him. That she wasn’t ready.
Even over the last few days, he’s let himself just enjoy seeing her, reconnecting. Didn’t want to let himself feel all of the devastation that he never really got over, apparently.
But now, with Olivia spending the rest of the week with Leah and him having an empty apartment and a day off, he has nothing to do but agonise over every last detail.
How can it hurt so much to think about the Amy that lives in his memory, when in the present he can’t help but be charmed by her all over again?
…
He doesn’t hear from her.
After two days of sex and catching up and an offhand mention of her maybe moving to New York, he doesn’t hear from her.
He goes about his life, he studies for the LSAT, he takes care of Olivia, he goes to work. He tries not to think about her. Somehow resists the urge to reach out, if only to find out if he should be half expecting to bump into her in the street.
He keeps moving.
…
He’s trying not to explode at a customer holding up a lengthy line when his gaze wanders and he sees her walk through the door.
For a moment he thinks he’s imagining things, that the guy who has been standing in front of him for the last few minutes switching his order back and forth has made him go insane.
But when the guy snaps his fingers in Jonah’s face and finally sticks with a decision, moving to the side to wait for his coffee and Jonah looks back she’s still there, hovering at the end of the line.
He tries to focus, taking orders on autopilot until customers start to dissipate, taking their coffees and leaving, and then it’s her.
“Hi.” He says dumbly, pressing his hands into the counter behind the register to stop them from shaking.
“Hey.”
“Um—” he stammers, caught off guard, even after having the last few minutes to prepare.
“What can I get you?” He asks slowly, uncertain.
She smiles.
“A moment of your time? When you have a break?”
He nods, glancing at Georgia.
“It might be a little while,” he says, conscious of the line forming behind her. “Once the morning rush is over.”
She nods, her smile unwavering. “Great. Then I’ll just grab a coffee.”
“Okay,” he returns, still uncertain, off balance, but knowing how to go through the motions. He enters the order into the system, takes the ten dollar bill she hands him. Tries not to focus on the way her hand brushes his.
“Thanks.”
She moves to a table in by the window to wait, and he tries not to keep glancing at her as he serves the other customers.
The flow of customers predicably wanes as people settle in at work for the day, and he bites his lip, procrastinating.
“You know I reckon you could take your break now, if you want,” Georgia says to him, bumping her hip against his with a wide grin.
“I know,” he murmurs, eyeing Amy.
She’s still sitting on her coffee, watching the people go by.
“I don’t know what to say to her,” he admits.
“See what she says and go from there,” she replies, ever so practical. “Here.”
She hands him a muffin on a plate.
“Break the ice.”
“Are these the ones you screwed up this morning and had to get rid of? Don’t they have twice the amount of sugar they’re—”
“See? Talking point, ice breaker,” Georgia says, giving him a push. “Rip off the band aid, man, it’s been an hour she isn’t going anywhere.”
He sighs, staring down at the sad, overly sweet muffin before doing as he’s told.
“Hey.”
She turns at the sound of his voice, her smile warm and genuine. Like she’s so pleased to see him.
He doesn’t know how this isn’t as complicated for her as it is for him.
“Hey.”
He slips into the seat beside her.
“Georgia gave this to me to give to you, but really it’s just her way of trying not to waste inedible food. There is an extraordinary amount of sugar in these, we couldn’t sell them.”
Amy laughs.
“There are worse things,” she says, sipping her coffee, which must be long cold by now.
“I take it you got the promotion?” He asks, suddenly overwhelmed with the need to know whether this is a once off pop in or whether it could be something that happens more often.
“I did,” she nods. “I start in a week. Wanted some time to get settled in, get Parker enrolled at school.”
It hits him that she’s here, that she’s really living here, that Parker could end up going to school with Olivia, on the off chance she’s looking for a school in the same area. That their lives could be entwined again.
Or, she could disappear into the sea of millions that live in the city, never to be seen again.
“Why did you come here?” he says.
He doesn’t care for the pleasantries and small talk. He needs certainty. He needs to know how to proceed.
“I want to get to know you again, Jonah,” she says. “Be in your life. And try again, if you were interested.”
His palms start to sweat, the memory of standing in front of her and asking if she wanted to marry him flooding his brain again.
“I don’t know,” he responds honestly.
He doesn’t know how he’ll see her, spend time with her on an ongoing basis without being sucked back into the vortex of Amy. Knows it might feel good in the short term but will only break his heart again in the long term.
“Okaaay,” she drags out. “I don’t want to put you on the spot. I just… Wanted to be clear. Honest. If you say you don’t want to see me again I won’t hold it against you. I’ll stay away.”
“No, I—” he stumbles over his gut reaction before deciding to voice it. “I don’t want you to stay away.”
She presses her lips together, and he sees the hope spark in her eyes even as she schools her other features.
“But I don’t want to be what we were before.”
The hope dims, but he hastens to clarify.
“Even if we were to try again, it would need to be different. I’m different.”
She nods rapidly, quick to agree.
“Of course. We could just – take it slow. No pressure.”
He nods. It sounds reasonable. Impossible to disagree.
“Maybe grab dinner sometime? I can ask Emma to watch Parker.”
He considers the next few weeks, his days with Olivia.
“How’s Thursday? I know it’s not ideal, but I’ve got Liv all weekend and next week; Leah’s out of town for work.”
Amy nods, her grin wide. “I can make that work.”
…
Dinner is … nice.
She tells him about her new position and Emma’s job, Parker’s obsession with the city that she hopes won’t fade once they settle in. He tells her about his job and his plan to finally take the LSAT, his hope that he can get somehow get into law school and make it work with Olivia and trying to keep a roof over their head. She’s the first person he’s told that he didn’t meet in New York, and her instant affirmation that it’s a great idea, that he’d be an amazing lawyer, leaves a warm feeling in his chest. Part of him has been anxious that it’s the worst idea he’s ever had, that all it would do is send him into deeper student debt with no guarantee of a payday at the end, that he’d be jeopardising Olivia’s future for his own unrealistic dreams. It’s had him putting it off, deciding not to register for the test time and time again. But her encouragement quells his concerns, if only for a moment.
Hours pass and then they look around and they’re the only two left in the restaurant, and he blushes as Amy reaches for her wallet.
“I can—” he starts, an old point of frustration rearing its head.
“You can get the next one?”
He nods.
“I’ll hold you to that,” he promises.
She smiles. “Hope so.”
They step out into the New York winter, hands shoved in coat pockets as the wind blows, and yet he can’t seem to say the words that will have them parting in separate directions.
They’ve done this dance before; part of him knows how it ends.
“I’m only a few blocks from here,” he starts. “Can I interest you in a coffee?”
She ducks her head, a smile playing across her lips.
“Sure.”
They start walking in unison, the wind cool against his warm cheeks.
“I mean you’re a professional now Jonah, how could I say no?”
He grins.
…
They don’t make it to coffee.
Her hands are on his hips the moment they cross the threshold into his apartment, and then their clothes are on the floor, a haphazard trail to his bed.
“So much for taking things slow,” she laments, after, as she lies on her stomach, her head turned to face him, her hair splayed out on his pillow.
He laughs.
“Yeah.”
He really doesn’t know what it is.
He’s never been able to resist her, but this is different. It’s magnetic. Undeniable.
He can’t even find all of the reasons that it’s a bad idea, his anger towards her entirely out of reach, and he’s falling.
It feels different than before, slightly more rooted in reality, maybe. He knows who she is, even the parts he didn’t want to see all those years ago, and he wants her anyway. Even after the way it ended last time.
He’s so fucked.
…
They find moments when they can.
It’s harder than it should be, but between work and kids it’s once a week that they get to see each other if they’re lucky, and somewhere along the way the pretence of a date falls away and it becomes flirty conversation on the phone and desperate wanting sex the moment they’re able to arrange to be in the same place.
“Do you regret it?” he asks, one night when they’re in that blissful in-between state. His body still thrumming, her hands still roaming, desperate to hold on. Before reality starts creeping in.
“Regret what?”
She’s buying time; he doesn’t need to crane his neck and meet her eyes to confirm it.
“Breaking up. Going to California on your own.”
He can almost hear her swallow thickly as she considers her reply.
In the lazy post-sex haze, he’s content to wait.
“No.”
It’s a considered answer, though he knows the answer would have been the same had she blurted it immediately. She was allowing him the grace of consideration.
“I would have second guessed it, if you’d have come. Spent years worrying that we were forced to move too quickly. I wouldn’t have appreciated what we had. It wasn’t easy, but I know what I want now. I’m certain. I wouldn’t have been then.”
His lips are dry, too dry to form words, and he licks them quickly, the air around them suddenly heavy.
“Do you regret it?”
He sighs.
“It’s a different question for me,” he says, almost frustrated that she would even ask. “If I changed anything I wouldn’t have Liv, and I can’t…” he blinks. He can’t imagine what his life would be without her. “It’s not even a question.”
“I understand,” she says softly.
When he twists his neck to meet her eyes she’s smiling kindly.
He hasn’t addressed the elephant in the room; the confession that hangs between them.
She knows what she wants, she’s certain.
She’s certain, and this time he’s the one hanging in the balance.
Uncertain.
Well, not uncertain. If there’s one thing he’s always known, from the moment he saw her, it’s that he wants Amy. He’d do anything for Amy. It hasn’t changed, hasn’t even seemed to dim over the years, even in her absence. Even with his love for Olivia eclipsing and outshining any love he’s ever felt before.
At the sight of Amy his heart still warms with a love he can’t explain.
“It can’t be like it was before,” he says, his gaze intent. “If – If we jump – back into this, it can’t be like it was before.”
He wonders if that’s not why he’s been hanging on to this pseudo-casual dating arrangement, that seems no different from friends with benefits. Exclusive friends with benefits, he supposes.
“I know,” she says.
Part of him feels like it couldn’t be the way it was before, that they’re different people now. He’s less eager, less desperate to show that he’s worthy of her, and she’s calmer. More confident. Less afraid.
“We need to be partners. We need to talk to each other.”
“I agree,” she returns, the first twitches of a full-blown grin teasing at the corners of her lips.
“I’ve really missed you,” she says in a hurried whisper, smiling wider.
He breaks then, the last efforts of the gates holding this at bay opening wide.
“I’ve missed you too.”
It’s the first time he’s let himself say it, or even think it, in years. Fuck, he’s missed her.
She burrows closer to him, as close as physically possible, and his grip on her tightens. Doesn’t want to let go.
…
All pretence fades, after that.
He stops trying to coordinate Amy and Olivia so that they don’t see each other, lest Olivia become attached to Amy like he did and it break her heart.
They have something solid. He wants Olivia to know her, for Amy to know his daughter.
Once he introduces Amy to Olivia purposefully, explaining that Amy’s someone she might see fairly often, Olivia takes to her instantly.
It’s reminiscent of the way he first felt about Amy, so many years ago, when he met her. Only this time, Amy returns the affections Olivia shows her, tenfold. Instead of the way she treated him when they first met, finding him annoying half the time and pretending to the rest of the time, she treats Olivia with a warmth he’s only seen reserved for her children. Even when they were dating the love she had for him paled in comparison for that she had for her kids, and to see her love Olivia in that way, so openly and freely is so overwhelming that he spends half their time together biting the inside of his cheek to keep his emotion in check.
Olivia responds to Amy the same way she does to those in her life that love her unconditionally – with complete openness.
The same is not true for Parker.
It becomes clear that Amy hasn’t been dating out in California, and that Parker at age ten has no memory of his mother ever having a boyfriend and he doesn’t care for it.
He’s sullen and borderline rude but mostly just unwilling to acknowledge Jonah at all most of the time, and Amy assures him that this is so unlike him, that this isn’t Parker.
“So I’m just special,” Jonah jokes.
Amy sighs, frustrated.
“I don’t want to force it,” she explains, after Parker has absconded to his room after dinner without so much as a word. “He’ll come around, eventually, I’m sure.”
Jonah nods, understanding intellectually. But it’s also a reminder of what might have been, had he moved to California with Amy. Parker would have grown up with him, he wouldn’t be unwilling to even engage in a conversation.
Amy knows it too, it’s the reason the guilt is so pronounced in her eyes.
It doesn’t help that Olivia by comparison is possibly more in love with Amy than he is. It only serves to highlight Parker’s distrust and annoyance at their relationship, and even though Jonah refuses to let it bother him, is willing to give Parker some time, Amy is practically vibrating with frustration.
“Hey,” he murmurs, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “It’ll be okay. I grow on a person.”
She rolls her eyes but a smile plays on her lips, and he stands, pulling her into a hug.
“We’ll give it some time. It’s only been a few months.”
…
They rarely get to spend the entire night together.
Between Parker and Olivia and Amy not wanting to rely too heavily on Emma who has her own life, their time together is limited to his spending the night when Liv is with Leah or the occasional weekday when Parker’s at a friend’s place or has an activity after school.
So a few months after her move to New York, when Emma agrees to have Parker stay the night at her place and Leah has Olivia, it’s a novelty.
To be able to spend hours at a restaurant having adult conversation, to have lazy sex that starts against the door to his apartment and ends in his bed. To make a half-naked dash to the kitchen for late night snacks and to kiss her slowly against the fridge.
By the time they finally settle to actually sleep, the novelty still hasn’t worn off.
He can’t take his eyes off her.
The thought crosses his mind, and in the safety of the room, with her fingers still rubbing across his wrist, he lets it spill out.
“If I asked you to marry me, what would you say?”
Her response is instant.
“Yes.”
“You answered that awfully quickly,” he says, doubtful.
“You’ve asked me before. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it.”
She’s straightforward now, in a way she never was before, and it still catches him off guard. She used to fumble between the answer that she thought he wanted and the truth, but now her responses are certain. Clear. He likes to think she’s moved towards simply responding honestly, rather than getting better at knowing what he wants to hear. With questions like this, though, he wonders.
“Did we just get engaged?” he says suddenly, and she smiles at him the way she does Parker when he says something completely ridiculous. Lovingly, but with a hint of condescension.
“No, Jonah.”
He’s about to question her further, already climbing onto his high horse about how this feels eerily familiar, when she continues.
“You don’t trust me yet,” she says.
The words knock the wind out of him.
“It’s okay,” she continues. “We broke up… awkwardly,” she lands on as the adjective. “And it’s only been a few months. A few months after years of no contact after an awful break up. It’s okay that you don’t trust me, you don’t know me like you used to, like you feel you should, given our history. I’m just saying, one day, if you decide you want to get married, my answer will be yes.”
If he thought he was shocked into silence before, this is something else entirely.
Maybe he doesn’t know her. This Amy, the woman she is today. Maybe that’s a good thing.
He stares at the ceiling, minutes passing without him gaining the ability to form any kind of coherent reply.
She presses a kiss to his cheek and settles down in bed.
“Night, Jonah. Love you.”
Within half an hour her breathing evens out and she falls into slumber.
Hours later he’s still staring at the ceiling.
My answer will be yes.
…
It happens slowly.
Incrementally, Parker starts to accept that Jonah isn’t going anywhere, and reluctantly lets his guard fall. He gradually returns to being the kind and sweet kid he remembers, and Jonah allows himself to hope.
After a few more months, Parker almost seems to enjoy his presence, having someone else to talk to about school and the books he’s reading, another adult in his life who will give him rapt attention.
With it, Amy seems to relax, stress and guilt he didn’t realise she was still holding falling away.
“I wasn’t holding it against you,” he says eventually, as they tidy the kitchen and wash the dishes from dinner, Parker showing Olivia the newest video game Adam sent him.
Amy hums, not following, and he tugs her elbow, stealing her full attention. He wants her to know for certain that he means it.
“My relationship with Parker – I wasn’t holding it against you.”
She smiles, glancing at the kids on the couch, her eyes a million miles away.
“Maybe I was. Holding it against me,” she admits. “Taking him away from you – depriving him of knowing you when you were so close. It’s the part I think about the most.”
“Hey,” he murmurs, refocusing her. “Don’t dwell on it, okay?”
For so long, he did hold it against her. He did harbour resentment over the way she moved away, taking what felt like his whole family with her, but it’s next to impossible now, watching Parker with Olivia giggle on the couch like the best of friends.
“You can’t rewrite the past. And even if you could, it would change what we have now and…” he swallows, tries not to let the heady feeling of it all get the best of him.
“What we have now is pretty fucking great,” he whispers, eyes on the little ears not too far away.
She smiles, tears still lining her eyes. But she hugs him, resting her head on his chest and taking a deep breath.
“You’re happy?” She checks, the flicker of fear in her gaze entirely misplaced.
“Very happy,” he confirms. “You?”
She laughs. “Never been happier.”
He runs his thumb under her eyes delicately, wishing any tears away.
“I think we can leave it there then, don’t you think?”
Her eyes shine, and she offers a quick nod.
“A fresh start,” she says, almost amused.
He grins widely, memories of their last fresh start playing in his mind.
“Fresh start.”
…
…
…
A year passes without her really noticing. A year in New York, a year with Jonah.
They go out for a fancy dinner to celebrate the new anniversary and she basks in the love in his smile, the way he squeezes her hand across the table just because. It feels seamless in a way it never was in St Louis. It’s still crazy, with all the moving parts of their lives, but their relationship feels easy. Solid. Unwavering. There’s an ease to it that she didn’t feel last time, and it only fortifies her belief that this is all she’ll ever need, but she bites her tongue.
She starts to realise what it was like for Jonah, back when they were first dating.
Always waiting on her to be ready before moving forward, constantly questioning where they stand, what the future holds.
She doesn’t mind it.
Doesn’t mind that her cards have been on the table from the moment the reconciled, while he has kept his relatively close to his chest.
But sometimes, when they’re all sharing a meal, with Emma at one end of a cramped table and Olivia and Parker on the other, her eyes will meet Jonah’s and she’ll wonder…
For the first time in her life she craves the commitment that a marriage would bring. A statement to each other, to everyone else in their lives that they’re permanent. A family.
But she won’t rush him. She doesn’t want him to feel pressured any more than she wanted to feel pressured when she moved to California.
She can wait.
…
She was uncertain about how she’d get on with Leah, in the beginning.
Only knowing a small amount about the woman, all of it passing through Jonah’s filter, Amy felt uneasy every time Leah would collect Olivia from Jonah’s, finding Amy there too.
She remembers how she felt when Adam first started dating, when Emma would come home from spending time with some woman, talking non-stop about it and making Amy feel unreasonably inferior. Hopes she’s never the cause of that feeling in Leah.
But Leah is open and kind, and when they all sit in the audience for Olivia’s end of year school play, Leah makes a point of saying that she’s glad her daughter has so many people in her life that love her, her eyes never leaving Amy’s.
She’s amazing. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Amy thinks that Jonah might have screwed up by letting Leah get away, but she bites her tongue and appreciates the twists and turns of fate.
…
When Jonah gets into law school, something shifts. There’s one more thing in his already jam-packed life to balance, and although he doesn’t voice it she sees the stress in the way he holds his body.
She feels herself slip further down his list of priorities, as they go from seeing each other almost constantly to once or twice a week.
She reminds herself that it isn’t personal, but some days it’s harder than others.
Any rare night they’re able to spend together without the distractions of work and kids, she seizes. She loves their kids, loves the nights spent together, with Parker and Olivia bickering that way that only siblings do, Jonah squeezing her hand under the table, exuding joy. But their time alone has become increasingly rare, and she refuses to let any opportunity slip by. Even if Jonah studies while she makes dinner, only occasionally making conversation. There’s a familiar routine to their lives now, even in the craziness. She knows his apartment as well as her own, knows how to stack the dishes just right in the cupboards so they all fit, knows where Jonah hides the alcohol out of Olivia’s reach.
When she turns off the stove and reaches for serving bowls, Jonah appears beside her, grabbing cutlery and setting the table.
They work together silently, seamlessly, and before she can take a seat he takes her hands.
“I’ve missed you lately,” he says, his thumb moving against her hand mindlessly, a pleasant habit. “I’m sorry it’s been so crazy.”
She blinks, feeling all of her anxiety melt away. His gaze is sincere, insistent, and she knows he means it. That he isn’t placating her, he’s just overwhelmed.
“Do you…” he pauses, and even after over a year together, she still sees the flickers of before, the look on his face when she’s said she didn’t want to get married so many years ago.
“Do you want to move in together?” He asks, his nervousness clear.
She swallows, chooses not to mention that she’s been thinking about it for a while, but was afraid of asking too much of him too soon.
They’d see more of each other, she’d be around to help out with Olivia, they could share the weight of some of the responsibilities that are stacked so high on his shoulders.
On a pure practical level, given the circumstances of their current lives, it would make sense. But for all the practicalities, she can only see the benefits that have nothing to do with logic. Living with him. Getting to wake up beside him in the morning. Knowing that even on days where they’re ships passing, pulled away from each other by other responsibilities, at the end of the day they’ll come back together, lying beside each other each night.
“Yes,” she grins, wrapping her arms around his waist, tilting her head to watch the way his face breaks open with joy, his nerves falling away.
“You don’t feel like I’m trapping you?” He asks, seeking final confirmation, and she shakes her head, hiding a bemused smile.
“I know what I want, Jonah,” she says, her voice clear. “Have for a while.”
His cheeks pinken, and he kisses her properly then, his lips firm and desperate against her own.
“I really, really love you,” he murmurs, resting his forehead on hers as he breathes deeply.
Amy grins.