She didn’t look at me. Just kept staring down at the endless blue. “Because I’m happy.”
Three words. Simple. But they punched me in the chest harder than any blow I’d ever taken.
Happy.
Because of us. Because of this trip. Because somehow, in spite of the chaos, in spite of the blood and the gods and the nightmares we all carry, she was happy.
I didn’t deserve that. But f**k, I’d die to keep it.
And as she leaned her head on my shoulder, sighing contentedly, my thoughts went wild.
About Rome. About her. About us.
About how she ate gelato like sin.
And about how much I wanted to drag her into the jet bathroom and make her scream my name over the ocean. Joining the high mile club didn’t sound bad…
But mostly about how goddamn lucky I was that she was mine.
The wheels of the private
