Chapter 45 Miles Apart
Elena opened her eyes and realized she was tucked firmly against Julian’s side throughout the night.
His arm was draped over her waist and for the first time, he wasn't awake before her. He was sleeping deeply, his breathing slow and even.
Elena didn't move. She just watched him quietly. And she couldn't help but admit that without his glasses, he looked different.
She stared at the small scar near his hairline, the one she had never noticed until last night. She reached out, her fingers hovering just an inch from his cheek, wanting to touch the skin and see if he was as real as he felt.
Before she could make contact, Julian’s hand shot out.
His fingers clamped around her wrist, the force was enough to make her bones ache.
"Julian!" she gasped, her eyes flying wide. "You're hurting me!"
He jerked awake, his eyes snapping open.
He let go of her wrist instantly, a look of horror crossing his face. "Elena. I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I just—"
"You almost broke my arm," she whispered, rubbing the red marks on her skin.
"I have a fast reflex," he said, sitting up and rubbing his face. He sounded tired, his voice thick with sleep. "Go back to bed, Elena. It’s early."
"I can't," she said, already rolling out of the other side of the mattress. "I'm wide awake."
She fled into the bathroom, shutting the door and turning on the shower.
She leaned against the cold tile, her wrist still throbbing. The way he had reacted was so intense it still left her shaken.
By the time she finished her shower and walked back into the bedroom, Julian was already dressed in a light linen shirt and dark trousers. He looked perfectly composed, as if he hadn't just nearly crushed her wrist in his sleep.
"I’ve planned the morning," Julian said, checking his watch. "There’s a breakfast spot near the riverfront, and then I thought we could take one of the architectural tours. The history in this city is incredible."
Elena knew she had to get to that flower shop. "Julian, that sounds great, but I actually had a different idea for the afternoon."
He looked up, one eyebrow raised. "Oh?"
"When I was out on my run last night, I passed this boutique spa," she lied, her voice steady. "They were handing out flyers for a midday session. Since Mandy is away and I’ve been so stressed, I thought a few hours of pampering might do me some good. I already made a tentative booking."
Julian studied her. Elena held her breath, wondering if he could see the lie written all over her face.
"A spa," he repeated. "Well, if you think it will help you relax, I won't stop you. But let’s start the day together first."
The morning was a test of Elena's endurance. Julian was being the perfect companion. He took her to a cafe where they sat under a green umbrella, eating pastries and watching the tide come in.
He held her hand across the table, his thumb stroking her palm. He told her about the history of the buildings they passed, pointing out every old art.
But Elena couldn't focus. Every time she looked at him, she saw the ghost of Samson Miller, every time he laughed, she wondered if Chloe had heard that same laugh ten years ago. She kept looking at her watch, the minutes ticking toward the time when the flower shop would open.
"You're distracted," Julian said as they walked through a small square. He stopped and turned her to face him. "You’ve looked at your watch six times in the last hour. Is the spa appointment that early?"
"I just don't want to be late," she said, forcing a smile. "You know how I am about punctuality."
"I know how you are when you're hiding something," he countered, his eyes searching hers. He didn't look angry; he looked concerned. "Elena, if you're still thinking about yesterday..."
"I'm not," she lied. "I just need some 'me' time, Julian. Please."
He sighed and kissed her forehead. "Fine. I'll drop you off."
"No!" she said, a bit too loudly. "I mean, no, it's fine. I’ll take a cab. I want to walk through the shops on the way there. You go do that tour you wanted to see. We can meet back at the hotel for dinner."
Julian hesitated, but finally nodded. "Alright. Be careful. And keep your phone on."
"I will," she said, knowing her phone was still buried in his bag at the hotel.
As soon as he turned the corner, Elena flagged down a taxi. "Abercorn Street. The Moss and Rose. Please hurry."
When she arrived, she liked the place immediately.
The flower shop was a small, charming building with a chipped white exterior and buckets of colorful flowers lining the sidewalk.
A sign hung over the door with a painted rose entwined in green moss.
Elena pushed the door open, and the sound of a little bell announced her arrival. The air inside was filled with the scent of lilies and damp earth.
Chloe was behind the counter, her blonde hair tied back in a messy bun. She was trimming the stems of some sunflowers, her back to the door.
"Be with you in just a second!" Chloe called out, her voice a bit husky.
She finished the cut and turned around, wiping her hands on her apron. When she saw Elena standing there, she froze. The color drained from her face, and her hands started to shake.
"You," Chloe whispered.
"Hello, Chloe," Elena said.
Chloe looked around the shop as if searching for an exit. "Look, if you're here to yell at me, don't bother. I already know I made a fool of myself. I shouldn't have run up to your husband like that. I was... I was confused. I made a mistake. I’m sorry."
She turned back to her flowers, her movements frantic and clumsy. "I apologized yesterday. There’s nothing else to say. Did you want to buy some flowers? I have some nice roses."
"It wasn't a mistake," Elena said.
Chloe stopped.
"What did you say?" Chloe asked, her voice barely a whisper.
"I said it wasn't a mistake," Elena repeated, taking a step closer to the counter. "The way you looked at him... you didn't look at a stranger. You looked at a man you've known your entire life. And the scar he has on his hairline? You knew exactly where it was."
Chloe turned around slowly. Her eyes were red, like she hadn't slept at all. "Why are you doing this? You're his wife. You should be telling me I'm crazy. You should be telling me to stay away."
"I'm doing this because I don't know who my husband is," Elena said, her voice cracking.
Chloe’s eyes widened. She gripped the edge of the wooden counter so hard her knuckles turned white. "What... what are you talking about?"
"I think Julian Thorne is Samson Miller," Elena said, the words finally out in the open. "And I think we need to talk. Right now."