Page 110 of Obedience

‘Here lies The Dylan of the House. Twas the yearning what took her. Perished at Manchester Airport, waiting for the love of her life. Dx’

Dylan:

That’s you btw x

Greta:

‘I’m the love of your life?’

Dylan:

‘Shit! Wrong thread! No, you’re just a bird I’m shagging’

She added a winking emoji and a taco.

Greta:

‘A bird you won’t be shagging later. Gx’

Dylan:

‘Why are you still texting? Hurry the fuck up Dr Vincent. Dx’

***

Tugging her grey suitcase behind her—hand luggage wobbling precariously on top—Greta emerged through the arrivals gate, the weight of the fourteen-hour flight evident in the exhausted slump of her shoulders. Hovering for a moment, Dylan watched Greta move in her olive-green jumpsuit and crisp white Lacoste trainers that looked super bright against the dull airport floor. Greta stopped to adjust her bag, pushing her hair behind her ear as she struggled to secure it. Before Greta knew what was happening, Dylan had lifted her into the air and nuzzled her face into her neck, making Greta shriek and giggle.

‘Fuck me, I’ve missed you,’ Dylan whispered emphatically. ‘You’re never going away again.’

Greta’s smile lit up her face as she pressed her lips to Dylan’s skin. Whatever exhaustion Greta had been carrying seemed to melt away, replaced by the excitement of seeing her. Out of the corner of her eye, Dylan noticed an old couple whispering and staring at them with judging eyes, but Greta hadn’t paid any attention to them, so neither did she. She slowly let Greta slide down the front of her body until Greta's feet met the floor, keeping her close as their lips met, their smiles pressed together.

Greta held Dylan’s chin, their gazes locked. ‘I’ve missed you so fucking much.’

‘Home?’ Dylan said, as Greta leaned back in her arms.

‘Anywhere. As long as you’re with me.’

Dylan drove them home in Ingrid. Greta’s hand firmly clasped over Dylan’s the entire way.

***

Greta dropped her keys onto the hall console table, as Dylan followed closely behind with her luggage. She picked up the mail Dylan had left out, shuffling through the envelopes and mentally sorting them by importance. Deciding that was a job for future Greta, she huffed out a breath of air, threw the pile back down and walked down the hall.

‘Can I get you anything, G?’ Dylan called from the kitchen.

Smiling, Greta watched as Dylan tucked a bottle of milk into the fridge door and moved toward her. ‘No thanks, Dyl.’

‘Shall I run you a bath?’

‘No, I need a shower. There’s nothing like long-haul to make you feel filthy.’

‘Okidoke,’ Dylan replied, her smile still as bright as it had been at the airport.

Greta hooked her index fingers into Dylan’s belt loops to pull her close; Dylan’s arms slid around her waist. ‘Speaking of filthy…why don’t you join me?’ Her tone was low and sexy.

Dylan groaned. ‘I have to leave at seven-ish. Pri needs to go at eight. I couldn’t afford to book her for the night, but she’s watching some antique shows and Corrie with Margs for a couple of hours while I picked you up.’ Her brows furrowed as she drew in a sharp breath. ‘Things are really tight at the minute. I’m going to have to start picking up some online tutoring sessions or something… I need some extra cash. The cup runneth dry.’ She gave a humourless chuckle. ‘I don’t know how the fuck I’m going to fit it all in, but I’ll just have to make it work. But it does mean that me and you time might take a hit.’ She winced. ‘I’m sorry, G.’

Greta tried to keep the sinking feeling in her gut off her expression as she checked the time. A week apart and they couldn’t steal more than sixty minutes together. As the idea of even less time with Dylan sank in, her disappointed sigh was almost deafening.