Chapter 37 Got Everything?
Amelia’s brows drew together instantly. Her glass paused halfway to her lips. “You’re not coming back with us?”
“I’m not.” Andrew shifted in his seat, leather creaking. “I don’t want Maggie to sense something is going on. Yeah, she might be… slow, and she’s lost her memories, but she’s not that stupid. Tomorrow makes it a week since she was discharged. I haven’t been home once. She’ll definitely feel something’s up if I don’t show now. We don’t want her digging for anything. Or worse— triggering her memories.”
Amelia set the glass down carefully on the wide armrest. She studied his face— jaw set, eyes steady but shadowed. She nodded once, slow. “How long will you be spending with her?”
“At least four days.”
“Four days?” Her voice rose just enough to crack the hush. She caught herself, glanced at Pete— still asleep— then leaned closer. “Four days?”
“It’s fine, babe.” Andrew reached across the narrow aisle, covered her hand with his. His thumb traced slow circles on her knuckles. “I’ll be thinking of you the whole time.”
“You better.” She rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth lifted.
“What if she reaches out to her family? Her dad? Anyone?”
Andrew’s expression didn’t change. “You don’t have to worry about that. She has no family aside from her dad, and they don’t have a good relationship. She doesn’t even have his number. They’ve barely spoken since I got with her— nine years ago, final year of college. I can count the times they’ve talked on one hand. Less than four. The whole time I’ve known her.”
“Really?” Amelia’s brow arched high.
“He only speaks with me.” Andrew’s voice stayed even. “But one thing I know for sure— he really loves his daughter. And would do anything for her. That’s why I haven’t told him she lost her memories. And I plan on keeping it that way.”
“But what if he calls her? Or shows up on a surprise visit?”
“He won’t. He’s in Washington. Even if he wanted to come over, he’d inform me first— because he knows she doesn’t want him around, and he respects that. The only time he came to New York to check on her— five years ago— he told me ahead. We met at a bar, caught up. He asked about her. I said she was fine. He took my word for it. Didn’t even try to come to the house.”
Amelia exhaled through her nose, shoulders dropping a fraction. “Alright. Looks like we’re good.”
“We are.” Andrew squeezed her hand once, firm.
She held his gaze, eyes narrowing playfully. “I don’t want you spending above four days with her before you come to me.”
“I won’t.” He lifted her hand, brushed his lips across her knuckles— quick, soft. “I promise.”
Amelia’s smile returned— small, private, edged with possession. She leaned back, released his hand, but let her fingers trail along his palm as she withdrew.
Silence settled between them again. The cabin hummed— low engines, soft air conditioning, the occasional chime from a call button farther back. Outside the window, clouds stretched endless and golden under the sun. Pete sighed in his sleep, shifted closer to the glass.
Andrew watched him a moment, expression softening. Then he turned back to Amelia.
She was already looking at him— eyes steady, lips curved just enough.
“Four days,” she whispered.
“Four days,” he echoed.
The plane carved its path west across the Atlantic, carrying them toward separate arrivals and the careful lies that waited on the other side.
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'HOURS LATER'
The cabin lights brightened in gradual stages, washing the first-class section in soft gold as the captain’s voice crackled over the speakers, calm and practiced.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have just touched down at John F. Kennedy International Airport. Local time is 7:14 p.m. Please remain seated with your seat belts fastened until the aircraft has come to a complete stop and the seat-belt sign is turned off. Thank you for flying with us today.”
A soft chime sounded. The seat-belt icon blinked out. Around them, passengers stirred— seat belts unclipping with sharp clicks, overhead bins popping open, bags thudding down.
Andrew unbuckled first, long fingers quick and sure. He reached across the aisle to Pete’s pod, where the boy was already blinking awake, Darth Vader clutched to his chest like a talisman.
“Up we go, champ.” Andrew’s voice was low, gentle. He lifted Pete under the arms, setting him on the wide aisle carpet. Pete yawned hugely, rubbing one eye with a fist.
Amelia stood smoothly, wine-red gown barely creased after nine hours, smoothing it once with both palms. She grabbed her small leather tote from under the seat, then reached for the overhead bin. Andrew was already there, pulling down her carry-on and his own with effortless strength.
“Got everything?” she asked, voice soft.