CHAPTER 54
Quinn
Chaos presses in from every side: suitcases clattering over tiles, loudspeaker announcements crackling overhead, a baby’s wail slicing through the din. I shove past irritated travellers, muttering apologies as I wedge into line, lungs burning, hair plastered to my temples.
I stumble up to the counter, chest heaving, throat raw. “One ticket to Paris,” I manage, words scraping out between gasps.
The agent finally glances up, mascara smudged beneath glassy eyes, shoulders slouched like she’s done this all day. Her chipped nails tap against the keyboard in a slow, impatient rhythm. “Miss, the only ticket left is in business class.”
She spins her monitor to show me the option, and the number knocks the air from my lungs—eight grand. Ruining my life just got a luxury price tag. But the house sale left me with some breathing room, and the rest? Plastic can handle it.
“Eight thousand?” I croak, half hoping she’ll laugh and say she’s joking.
The agent doesn’t even blink. “Take it or leave it, miss. Boarding gate’s about to close.”
“I’ll take it.” My hand shakes as I slide my passport across, palms slick enough to smear damp into the fabric of my pencil skirt.
She quirks a brow, and it occurs to me I’m not the first desperate person she’s encountered at this little kiosk. “Boarding starts in forty-five minutes. You’d better hurry.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” The word scrapes out of me as I clutch the ticket and bolt toward the express lane.
My legs ache when I reach the lounge, but adrenaline keeps me moving, pushing past business travellers in suits and families wrangling kids. I search for him in every passing face—tall, dark hair, familiar shoulders. What if I’m too late? What if he’s already gone?
At the gate, I almost lose it. No sign of Cole. No dark hair. No familiar frame. Deflated, I wander into the business lounge for water, telling myself I may as well make my eight grand worth something.
And then I see him—head bent, rifling through his bag, the edge of a paperback peeking out between his fingers.
His brow is furrowed in concentration, but the second his gaze lifts and collides with mine, the air snags in my lungs.
The floor seems to shift under me, and every rehearsed line scatters like ash in the wind.
It’s only been a few days, but my chest squeezes so tight it feels like years have carved the space between us.
“Didn’t peg you for a business class kind of guy,” I say, my voice lighter than the weight crushing my ribs. What I want to blurt is I love you, but instead I bite it back, tasting iron on my tongue. The way he looks at me knots my heart until it hurts.
He sets the book down slowly, shoulders taut, like every movement costs him. “I left it too late. This was all they had.” His gaze flickers away, and the hollow ache in my throat deepens. He waited. He hoped. He wanted me to stop him.
“So you were just going to leave? After everything?” My voice cracks. “Not even a goodbye?”
His jaw tightens. “I told you I loved you, Quinn. And you walked away.”
The words spear straight through me. My chest burns, and for a moment I can’t breathe. “I love you.”
His eyes glint, silver catching in the lounge lights.
He stares like I’m impossible, like I’ve stepped out of a dream.
And I pour everything I’ve buried for years—the regret that’s choked me, the fear that kept me silent, the truth that he isn’t just someone.
He’s the one. The anchor when nothing else held steady.
My heart had always known, even when my head refused to listen.
“Please,” I breathe, the plea scraping raw. “Take me with you. Wherever you go, I’ll follow. I told you once I’d choose the lottery over love because I didn’t believe love was real. I was wrong. There’s nothing I’ll ever choose over loving you.”
His hands cup my face and then his mouth is on mine.
God, I’ve missed this. Heat sparks through me like it always does, as if no time has passed.
His lips are warm, urgent, tasting faintly like mint.
My knees nearly give as he pulls me closer, his arm sliding firmly around my waist. I fist the fabric of his shirt, holding on like the ground might tilt away beneath me.
The world shrinks to the press of his mouth and the rough brush of his stubble against my skin.
I kiss him back like the last few days haven’t gutted me, like every second apart was just a prelude to this.
When we break apart, we’re both gasping, foreheads pressed together, his thumb brushing along my cheekbone like he’s memorising me. My pulse thrums so loud I can barely hear the low rumble of planes taking off outside.
“I love you too,” he murmurs against my lips. “But are you sure you want to come with me for a year?”
“I just paid eight grand for a ticket. I’m pretty sure.” My laugh is breathless, shaky. “Besides, I don’t even have a house anymore. Sold it. Private buyer nearly doubled the offer.”
He stiffens, eyes sliding away. My stomach drops. “You don’t seem surprised,” I say slowly. “Cole. Tell me you didn’t buy the house.”
“Um… I didn’t buy the house?” he hedges.
“Hey.” My fingers clutch tighter at his shirt. “You promised you wouldn’t lie. Out with it.”
His smile is sheepish. “I did. I bought it. I wanted to spare you the auction and the paperwork. I had the money, and I figured better me than some soulless investor.”
“Cole…” I trail off.
“I’d do anything for you.” He pulls me to him. “Are you really coming with me?”
“Yes.” My throat aches, my heart splitting open. “I want to tell you I love you in every country we visit.
“Say it again,” he whispers, eyes locked on mine like he’ll starve without the words.
“I love you.” This time it’s steadier, stronger.
I crush my mouth to his again, and the kiss is fiercer, laced with everything I hadn’t said before.
My fingers thread into his hair, his hands anchoring me against him, and for a moment the busy lounge disappears.
Just us, tangled in heat and desperation, stealing seconds like they might be our last.
We only break when the final boarding call echoes overhead, dragging us back to reality. Breathless, we linger in each other’s space, reluctant to let go.
For the first time in years, I feel steady. Whole. And later, as the plane cuts through the sky. I let myself believe in the future we’re about to build together.