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Wind blows a strand of hair across her face and into her wet lashes. My hand moves before my brain can tell it not to. I catch it and tuck it behind her ear, and her eyes close for half a second when my fingers brush her skin. Fuck, I missed touching her.

I drop my hand, and her eyes open.

“You.”

I frown. “What?”

She lets the backpack fall to the ground and then her hands are on my face. I stop breathing. Her palms are warm against my cheeks, her smell surrounding me, and it’s her. Nora.

“You’re my home, Jude Hawthorne.”

Everything inside me goes still. I search her face, needing to understand exactly what she’s saying before I let myself believe something I’ve wanted for too fucking long. Because the last time she left, it almost fucking destroyed me.

“What are you saying here, Nora?”

She smiles through her tears, and I slide a hand around her waist.

“Because I’m about two seconds away from kissing you.”

She laughs, and fuck, I missed that too.

“It took me a while, but I know it now. I guess maybe I always knew, but I needed time to figure out who I was and what I wanted. I needed to know I could build a life on my own. That I wasn’t coming back because I needed you to hold me together or because I was lonely or because—”

“Nora.”

She stops and takes a breath. “I needed time to find Nora.”

“Nine months.”

Her mouth falls open slightly. She stares at me, and then her expression changes. “You counted?”

Shouldn’t have said that. I shrug.

Her eyes fill with more tears, but a smile spreads across her face. “Nine months, two days, six hours...” She pulls her phone out of her pocket and checks the screen.

My heart stops.

She looks back up at me. “And forty-three minutes.”

I stare at her. She fucking counted minutes too.

“That’s how long it took me to come home to you.”

Fuck this. My hand goes to the back of her neck and I pull her into me.

My mouth crashes against hers. Nine fucking months and I know her taste the second my lips touch hers. She drops her phone somewhere between us and her arms wrap around my neck as I pull her closer. She’s here. She’s fucking here.

I kiss her the way I’ve dreamed of kissing her every night since Italy. Like I’ve got nine months of missing her to make up for and nowhere near enough time to do it. She laughs against my mouth and I kiss the sound right out of her.

When we finally pull apart, we’re both breathing hard. I rest my forehead against hers.

“Fuck, I missed you.”

She slides her fingers through my hair. “I love you.”

I go still.

She smiles against my lips. “I’m in love with you, Grumpy.”