We went back to eating in silence.
I thought about the first time I'd seen her.
She'd been on the tarmac, helicopter blades still spinning behind her, hair whipping in the wind, a pencil stuck behind one ear. Her eyes had taken in everything—the compound, the soldiers, the fortifications—like she was cataloging it all for later.
I'd avoided her at first. Then my boss had tasked me with babysitting her, and avoidance wasn't an option anymore.
At first, we'd resented each other. She thought I was there to obstruct her. I thought she was there to make my life harder. But then, over weeks, things shifted.
She showed how tough she was—never complaining, never backing down, asking hard questions that deserved hard answers. And I did little things, like bringing her actual ice for her water, making sure she had a seat at briefings, running interference when officers tried to shut her out.
We came to respect each other.
She'd told me about growing up in Canada. Small town, cold winters, parents who'd supported her even when she'd chosen a career that kept her half a world away. She'd shown me pictures once—her mom and dad standing in front of a house covered in snow, smiling like they didn't have a care in the world.
I'd thought they were the prototype of what a happy family looked like.
Much unlike mine.
I pushed the thought away, taking my last bite and washing it down with coffee. When I looked up, she was staring at me.
"What?" I asked.
She shrugged. Whether it was the meal or just mellowing out, the hard edges had softened. "I've always wondered where you've been. What you've been up to."
"Same," I said.
Silence.
We both sipped our coffee, avoiding each other's gaze.
Then I thought,fuck it.
I looked at her. Really looked at her.
"Can we pretend?" I asked.
She blinked. "Pretend?"
"Pretend what?"
I leaned forward, elbows on the table. "We're both jet-lagged. In a new city. And maybe …"
I felt stupid saying it. But my body was screaming at me to justask.
"I want to pretend none of it ever happened," I said. "At least, for right now."
Her expression didn't change.
"And I want to take you to bed," I continued. "One last time."
She raised an eyebrow, that snarky edge creeping back into her voice. "For old time's sake?"
"No," I said. "For now time's sake."
The hostility melted.
Just for a second—just long enough for me to see the old Amelia. The one who'd been tough on the outside butmineon the inside.
