I smile, pulling myself from the questions and uncertainties. I’m here. With her. And for tonight, that’s enough.
After dinner, we take a stroll along the river, hand in hand. The lights of the city reflect off the water, and Kelsey lets out a contented sigh, her head resting on my shoulder as we walk.
The moment is perfect. The city is buzzing around us, but in this small bubble, everything feels at peace. We stop occasionally to admirethe view or simply to share a quiet moment. I feel the connection between us, the ease with which we now exist in each other’s space.
I glance at Kelsey, her face illuminated by the streetlights, her smile brighter than I’ve seen in days. She looks like herself again—no work to distract her, no chaos swirling around us, just the two of us.
“Do you remember that Valentine’s Day in seventh grade when you wore that bright red sweater?” I ask, breaking the quiet between us.
She chuckles softly. “No. Why do you?”
“I ran into you on my way out of the cafeteria line and spilled spaghetti sauce all over it. Instead of yelling at me or crying or something, you just stared at me like it was my last night on earth.”
She laughs. “I do kinda remember that! I’m pretty sure you grunted once and walked away. You were always so gruff and aloof.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “I was mortified that I spilled food on the girl I had a crush on!”
“Liar,” she teases. “You wanted nothing to do with me.”
We stop walking, standing side by side as we gaze out over the river. The sound of the water rippling is the perfect background for the peaceful moment we share. I can feel the weight of the world, just for tonight, lift from my shoulders.
“No. I just didn’t know how to make words come out of my mouth when I was around you,” I say quietly.
“If you say so,” she says, her voice soft. “But either way, I’m glad we’re here now.”
I smile, my heart full as I squeeze her hand. “Me too.”
The night stretches on, the city’s heartbeat matching our own, and for the first time in a long time, I feel like we’re exactly where we’resupposed to be—together, in this moment, and I’ll do anything to make sure we get more nights like these.
Chapter thirty-one
Kelsey
Thesunisbarelypeeking over the skyline of Buenos Aires, casting a soft orange glow on the streets as we jog through the quiet morning. Carter’s running beside me, effortlessly matching my pace even though he’s not exactly a runner. I’m used to doing my 6-mile loop with only the steady rhythm of my feet and the sound of my breath for company. But I’m starting to get used to Carter tagging along, his presence a calming, steady force beside me.
I glance over at him as we near the end of the second mile. His face is flushed, but he’s keeping up, looking like he’s barely breaking a sweat. I’m impressed.
“You’re doing good,” I tell him, trying to catch my breath as we wait at an intersection. Turns out, I might actually enjoy the challenge of having someone running beside me, someone who’s not only holding his own but looking completely unbothered.
“Yeah, well,” Carter says with a teasing grin, “I didn’t get into the Rangers on looks alone.”
I laugh. “You’re insane. I’ve been running for years, and when I take a few days off, it feels like I’m starting from zero.”
“Well, I’m in this for the long haul now. Maybe I’ll run a half-marathon when we get back.”
We both laugh, knowing there is no way in hell Carter’s training for a half unless I convince him to do one with me.
We keep going, both of us silently pushing through the last few miles. We slow to a walk as we get close to the hotel, and Carter lets out a dramatic sigh, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.
“Okay, I’ll admit it,” he says, still walking beside me. “I could do more cardio in my daily life.”
I chuckle. “I thought for a second I’d have to call an ambulance.”
“Hey, it was your idea to drag me out here at seven in the morning. I offered a number of options to get your blood pumping, you know?” he grumbles, but there’s a hint of affection in his voice. “Ones that would’ve been a lot more fun.”
I smile, feeling that familiar warmth at how easy it is to be with him. The morning breeze rustles through the trees and the city slowly wakes up as we make our way back to the hotel. Carter stays at my side, still grinning like a dork, and I can’t help but enjoy the simplicity of the moment. For once, there’s no crisis, no tension. Just us, a run, and the quiet hum of Buenos Aires.
By the time we reach the hotel, the post-run endorphins are kicking in, and I feel lighter, almost ready to take on whatever the day throws at me. We head to the small restaurant in the lobby and sit down at acorner booth, the morning sunlight streaming through the windows and casting a golden hue over everything.
