A knock comes from behind me, followed by the creaking of the old wooden door as Amira pokes her head inside.
She leans against the doorway for a bit, arms crossed over her Guns N’ Roses covered chest as she gazes at me through the dewy mirror.
She catches me staring and chuckles, a light, airy sound. “Hope you don’t mind. This looked more comfortable than one of my many black sweaters.”
Of course, I don’t mind, especially since it looks sexier on her than it ever did me. The hem sits nicely on top of her rounded ass, which is covered in the tightest pair of leggings I’ve ever seen her in. I get a delicious eyeful of cleavage from the tear right above the swell of her breasts. Her hair, cropped short at her shoulders, falls in soft, delicate waves, displaying the marks of hunger I left scattered around her neck.
“I didn’t want to hide these either,” she says it with shame, but I can see the glint in her eyes. A sparkle that confirms she loves looking at those bites just as much as I loved giving them.
Spitting out the minty foam in my mouth, I give the sink a quick rinse before spinning around, hopping onto the sink counter to admire my girl.
Amira’s eyes drift across my face tenderly, holding my gaze, even as hers begin to fill with tears.
“Why are you crying?” I ask, forcing myself to stay on the sink when all I want to do is go to her.
“I had a dream last night. It was you and me. You were eighteen, and I was fifteen, and it didn’t matter because there was no one around to tell us anything. You bought a car, a cheap piece of shit that cost no more than two thousand, and we packed it with nothing but a few pieces of clothes and all the money we could find.”
“And what did we do?” I ask, hearing my voice break apart as my own tears begin to collect in my eyes.
“We left, and I don’t know where we were going or where we ended up. But we were happy.”
“That sounds perfect… so why are you crying?”
Wiping her face with the back of her hand, she comes farther into the room, hands grasping onto my knees as she peers at me through black-coated lashes. “Because we should have had that. But instead, we got our lives torn apart. We have scars we can’t see, but fuck, they burn, don’t they? They haunt our dreams, even when our eyes are open and fill our heads with monstrous whispers. Our lives are not our own, and the image we see in the mirror isn’t ours either. It’sthem. They’ve hollowed us out and created shells.”
Pressing her lips against mine, Amira takes my face in her hands. “I don’t know if this trip can reverse any of that, but I want you to know something.”
I can’t utter any words, so I nod my head, falling apart under her gaze.
“I love you, through all the pain and all the fucked up, I love you, Roman Marcello, and no hunt, abuse, or fucking prison time has ever changed that.”
I can’t do anything but stare into her warm, chocolate eyes, and feel myself come undone as she spills our demons on the floor. I always do my best to stay strong, be the man she needs, but at this moment, I just fucking can’t.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, choking on a sob as she runs her fingers beneath my eyes. “I’m so fucking sorry I didn’t take you away as I promised.”
I’m sorry I failed you.
I’m sorry I hurt you.
But most importantly, I’m sorry for leaving when I promised I’d stay.
“I forgive you... as long as you forgive me for making you carry some of the blame.”
“Always.”
We seal our absolution with a kiss, drawing strength from each other’s disintegrating foundations.
Bending low, Amira scoops up my dirty clothes and takes me by the hand, leading me out of the bathroom and into the main room.
She packs my stuff, asking nothing of me as I sink into the foam mattress. My eyes follow her movements, tracking her as she runs around the motel, searching and picking up anything we could leave behind.
I should help her, get off my lazy ass and move, but my limbs feel leaden, a force keeping me down in strength and spirit.
In no time, the room is clean. Our bags are stacked by the door, along with our caddy for toiletries. Used towels lie in a folded pile on top of the sink counter, waiting for pickup.
The room is ready for us to leave, nothing left to keep us here any longer, but I make no move to go. My eyes are stuck on the exit, but I can’t leave because I know the second we step foot in the car, there will be nothing holding us back from the ten-hour drive home.
“What do you think we’re going to find there?” Amira asks quietly, her socked foot toeing the carpet as she glares down at the purse in her hand.
