Chapter 30 Under Orion
Under Orion
Liam
Iwheeled my suitcase out into the hallway. It was packed, zipped, and ready to go.
Claire’s door was open. I leaned against the frame. Her suitcase was splayed open on the bed, color-coded packing cubes peeking out in neat rows. The most organized woman I knew was letting me hijack her birthday weekend.
“It would be a lot easier to pack,” she said, her back still to me, “if you told me where we were going.”
I smirked. “You know, for someone as smart as you, I find it hard to believe you don’t know the meaning of the word surprise.”
She finally looked over her shoulder and swatted at me with the sweater in her hand. I caught it easily, laughing.
“Did you pack the stuff I told you to?” I asked, folding the sweater and placing it in her suitcase. “Layers. Hiking boots. That beanie you love.”
“Yes, of course,” she said, gesturing to the pile. “But you’re a guy. Do you really know what a woman needs to pack for a mysterious multi-day trip?”
I reached over and smoothly zipped her suitcase closed before she could protest. “I know exactly what you need,” I said. I pulled her in for a quick, firm kiss, then lifted the suitcase off the bed.
My phone buzzed. “And our ride is here. Let’s go.”
“Welcome to Midland, Texas,” the pilot said, voice crackling through the overhead speaker. “Local time is 12:32. Clear skies and ninety-four degrees.”
Claire exhaled sharply beside me. “Midland?” she said, dragging out the syllables. “You flew me to oil country for my birthday?”
I grinned and stretched, pretending not to hear the edge in her voice. “Technically, the pilot flew us. I just booked the tickets.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’ve given me zero itinerary, no packing instructions, and now we’re in Midland. I’m filing this under ‘suspicious behavior.’”
I leaned closer and brushed a quick kiss against her lips. “You trust me though, right?”
She gave me a look. “I trust you. I just don’t trust your definition of ‘romantic getaway’. You’re either taking me somewhere magical or somewhere that requires bug spray. I’m bracing for both.”
A quiet laugh escaped me.
I love rattling her.
Her brain was always five steps ahead, and watching it spin trying to figure me out was the best show on earth.
“A little of both,” I said, grabbing our carry-ons from the overhead bin. “Definitely a little of both.”
Outside, the heat hit us like a wall. The rental lot shimmered in the sun, rows of sedans and SUVs baking under a wide sky.
Then she saw it.
“You rented a truck?” Claire blinked at the matte-black Tacoma parked in spot B12.
“Four-wheel drive. Good suspension. You’ll thank me later.”
She stared at me. “Is this a kidnapping?”
I bit down on the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.
I shook my head, unlocking the truck. “Would you get in the car already? I promise the ransom note is very politely worded.”
“You’re lucky I trust you. Otherwise, this would be the part where I start texting my location to my emergency contacts.
” She climbed in, folding her arms over her chest in a grand, overly-dramatic show of being mad, but the corner of her mouth was fighting a losing battle against a smile. “And maybe start screaming.”
“No need to scream,” I said, opening her door for her. “Well, maybe in twenty minutes, when we lose cell service.”
Watching her squirm, a mix of playful suspicion and fake outrage, was better than I’d ever imagined. This. This easy, flirty back-and-forth was everything. I shut her door, a grin I couldn’t control spreading across my face as I walked to the driver’s side.
The drive started with highways, flat, endless, dotted with pump jacks and dust devils. Claire tried to guess our destination, throwing out names like Marfa, El Paso, and “some weird art installation in the desert.”
I just smiled and let her speculate.
By hour two, the landscape shifted. Fewer buildings. More scrub. The GPS lost signal. Claire’s ponytail was now a messy bun, and her sunglasses had migrated to the top of her head.
She looked out the window, then back at me. “Where are you taking me? There’s literally nothing out here.”
I shrugged. “Exactly.”
She let out a long, dramatic sigh and slumped back against the headrest, but I saw the smile she was trying to hide by turning to look out her window.
We turned off the main road onto a gravel path marked by a small wooden sign: Loma Prieta Rd. The tires crunched over loose rock. Dust kicked up behind us like a trail of breadcrumbs.
Claire leaned forward, squinting. “Is this the part where you tell me we’re camping?”
I didn’t answer.
Three miles in, the road narrowed. Mesquite trees flanked us.
The mountains in the distance looked like they’d been painted in layers—blue, then purple, then rust. The air smelled of sunbaked earth and dry cedar.
I rolled down the window. The temperature had dropped into the high sixties, and the breeze felt like a reward for the long drive.
Then we crested a small hill, and she saw it.
Domes. Sleek, white geodesic domes were tucked into the desert basin like a cluster of futuristic bubbles.
Each had a private deck with lounge chairs, a telescope mounted and ready.
There were shaded outdoor kitchens, fire pits, and actual bathrooms. Solar panels glinted in the sun.
A hammock swayed lazily between two posts.
Claire’s mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.
“This is… not camping.”
I put the truck in park and turned to her. “Happy birthday.”
She unbuckled her seatbelt and stepped out slowly. Her eyes did a slow scan of the setup, the solar panels, the tiled outdoor shower, the hammock swaying in the breeze.
“You arranged this all for me?”
Her voice was soft, almost disbelieving. She took a slow step forward, her eyes glistening under the desert sky. She brought her fingers to her cheek, quickly brushing away a tear before it could fall.
“No one has ever…” she began, but her voice caught, and she just shook her head, a look of pure wonder on her face.
I nodded, my own throat feeling tight. “You love stars. I figured you should see them from the largest Dark Sky Reserve in the world."
She walked to the edge of the deck, looked up at the sky already deepening into dusk, and then back at me. “This is… kind of perfect.”
I joined her, close enough to feel her shoulder brush mine. “Wait till you see it at night.”
She smirked. “If you think this earns you a pass on the kidnapping charges, you’re wrong.”
I pulled her into me, wrapping my arms all the way around her. She melted against my chest, her head fitting perfectly under my chin. I held her like that for a long moment, just breathing her in. Then I pressed a soft kiss to her temple. “Worth it.”
Overhead, the sky was utterly black and endlessly deep, crowded with more stars than I'd ever seen in my life. I let my eyes adjust. The longer I looked, the more stars appeared, layer after layer of them, until the sky felt less like a dome and more like a deep, endless ocean.
We lay on the padded loungers, angled up just enough to see the endless sweep of the Milky Way. A thin blanket was pooled across our legs, more for comfort than warmth.
Her finger traced a path through the air. “Orion,” she said, her voice quiet in the immense silence. “My favorite. He’s constant. You can always find him.”
She turned to me and placed her fingers gently on my cheek before tracing one finger across my lips. “It reminds me of you.”
We lay in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, staring back up at the nighttime sky, just taking it in.
I turned my head toward her. “When did you get into all of this? The stars.”
She was quiet for a long moment. “In college,” she said softly. “After my first serious boyfriend.”
I stayed quiet, listening.
“He ghosted me. After a year and a half. Just… vanished one summer.”
Her hand dropped back to her lap. “I learned in an astronomy class that the light from most stars is thousands of years old. That the star itself might already be dead by the time we see its glow.”
She turned her head on the cushion to look at me, her face pale in the starlight.
“I remember thinking… maybe love is like that. We see the glow, but it’s already gone by the time we try to reach for it.
It felt safer to wish on light that was already gone than to believe in people who were right in front of me. ”
She thinks her light has dimmed. She had no idea she's the brightest thing in any room she walks into. The idiot who ghosted her had held a diamond. He had everything and threw it away. And I am the luckiest man alive because of it.
The thought was so absorbing, the world had narrowed to just her face. I was just staring. I didn't know for how long. “What?” she asked, a small, self-conscious smile touching her lips.
I moved without thinking. I swung my legs off my lounger and sat on the edge of hers, the frame creaking softly under my weight. I placed my hands on the padded headrest on either side of her.
“I love watching you,” I said, my voice low.
Her smile faltered, replaced by a look of soft confusion.
I leaned in closer. “I love watching you think.” Closer still. Her breath hitched. “I love that funny face you make when you’re concentrating. When you squint and scrunch your nose.”
A weak, half-hearted swat hit my shoulder. “I do not make a funny face.”
“You do.” I was so close now I could feel her breath on my lips. The universe shrank to the space between us. The stars were just background noise. “And I love it.”
I held her gaze, letting her see the absolute truth in mine. There was no more hiding.
“I love you, Claire.”
I closed the last inch of space and kissed her.
I had never been more certain of anything.
Her lips were soft, cool from the night air, but they warmed instantly against mine. Her hand came up, her fingers sliding into my hair. I poured every ounce of that certainty back into the kiss.
When we finally parted, her eyes were glistening. She brushed her thumb over my cheekbone.
“I love you, too,” she whispered.
I pulled her into me, holding her against my chest like I could fuse us into one person.
Then I slanted my mouth over hers, kissing her with a depth and intensity that left no room for doubt.
I was hers. For keeps.
We were buckled into our seats, the plane climbing over the desert we’d left behind. The weekend played in my head on a perfect loop: her face under the stars, the feel of her saying she loved me.
She sighed, a happy, contented sound, and laced her fingers through mine on the armrest. “That was the best birthday of my life.”
I brought her knuckles to my lips. “Good.”
She turned her head toward me, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “You know, you’ve really given me a tough act to follow.”
I frowned, confused. “How?”
“Your birthday is in two months. Now I have to top that.” She said it like it was a delightful challenge.
I groaned, letting my head fall back against the headrest. “Claire, no. Don’t. I don’t need a trip. I don’t need anything. Just promise me you’ll be there. That’s all I need.”
She squeezed my hand, her smile softening. “It’s your own fault for being so good at this. You set the bar impossibly high.” The glint returned to her eyes. “You don’t expect me to back down from a challenge now, do you?”
“I regret everything,” I muttered, but I couldn’t fight the smile pulling at my mouth. I loved this. I loved her like this—playful, determined, already plotting.
She laughed, seeing right through me. “Too bad.” She leaned across the armrest and kissed me. “You’re getting a trip.”