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Her words, spoken with the wisdom that comes from years of carrying and eventually setting down the burdens of the past, offer a semblance of peace, a recognition of the pain we've both endured and the growth it has spurred. A single wave of relief washes over me, but it’s short lived as I realized what this means for us now.
The silence that falls between us is profound. I’m at a crossroads: the desire to lay all my cards on the table warring with the fear of revealing too much, too soon.
"I've probably said enough for today," I finally admit, my voice laced with a hesitancy that's foreign to me. "I don't want to overstep or scare you away."
Natalie offers me a small, understanding smile as she tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear, a simple gesture that captivates me all over again. Her beauty strikes me anew, reigniting my desire to pull her close, to steal another kiss and make up for years of missing her.
But the moment has passed. Natalie deserves some time to reflect on everything and decide what she wants. This thing between us is so new, so fragile, I'm afraid it might shatter with a single misstep.
As she moves to turn off the music, the bright melodies that have been our backdrop come to an abrupt halt, shrouding us in a sudden, almost tangible silence. The absence of sound feels like a void, emphasizing the distance that's crept back between us.
"I... I should probably get going too," she says, breaking the silence, her voice tinged with a reluctance that mirrors my own. "It's been a long day, and we've both got a lot to think about."
I nod, understanding her need for space, for time to process the emotional torrent we've both waded through. "Yeah, of course," I reply, the words feeling inadequate to express the tumult of emotions swirling within me. I know I shouldn't say anything else, but the question escapes before I can stop it. “Will I get to see you again?”
She pauses halfway through tucking her shirt back into her pants. It's obvious I don't mean just running into each other at work, and she takes her time before she speaks.
“I don’t know if I’m ready to commit,” she answers honestly. It stings, but it's my own fault for asking. “I don’t want to be held down, you know?”
I consider this for a moment. “So you want no strings attached?”
She bites the inside of her lip, then nods. “Yeah.”
I don’t answer that. How can I? Jack once said I look like the kind of guy who’d love a good fling, who’d have a different woman each week, but I’m not. Besides, we already discussed the need for space, or at the very least, to take things slow.
As much as it hurts to admit, the truth is despite how much I want Nat right now, I don’t know if I’m ready for more, either.
As she gathers her things, there's a sense of something left unsaid, of questions and possibilities dangling precariously in the space between us. I watch her, the urge to reach out, to bridge the gap with another kiss, is almost overwhelming. I hold back, chiding myself again.
Space. We need space. Space to breathe, to exist in the quiet contemplation that follows revelations such as ours.
Just as she's about to leave, Natalie pauses, turning back to face me with an expression I can't quite read, her eyes deep with an emotion intense and indefinable. "Bye Julian," she says, the words sparking a new desperation in me.
Just like that, my resolve crumbles. I close the distance between us in a few quick strides, pulled by an invisible thread that seems to connect my very being to hers. My hands find her face, and I lean in, capturing her lips with mine in a kiss that's both a farewell and a promise to return.
She responds instantly, her arms winding around my neck, her body pressing into mine with a desperation that matches my own. The kiss is deep, filled with all the unsaid things, the shared history, and the tangled emotions that we've only just begun to unravel.
As quickly as it starts, Natalie pulls away, her retreat a symbol of her strength—something that I'm apparently lacking today. She offers me a look that's both apologetic and resolute, then she's gone, the soft click of the door marking the end of our encounter.
I stand there for a long minute, trying to gather my scattered thoughts, the taste of her still lingering on my lips. It's the same taste that I remember from before, that I've been unable to wipe from my memory for all these years. The room feels emptier now in her absence, the silence louder.
Shaking my head in an attempt to clear it, I remember the original reason for my visit—the aftermath of the vandalism, the need to ensure that the building is secure. Moving on autopilot, I double-check the scaffolding, the locks on the doors, and the newly installed security cameras. I move mechanically, my attention frequently wandering from the task at hand.
As I make my rounds, the evidence of our hard work is reassuring. Everything is as it should be, no sign of further tampering or damage. It's a small comfort, and it’s encouraging to see the progress we're making despite the setbacks, both professional and personal.
With one last look around, I lock up for the night, the building standing silent and strong against the backdrop of the setting sun. My thoughts, however, remain stubbornly fixed on Natalie, my hands still burning from the warmth of her skin, my lips raw and tender. The complexities of our rekindled connection and the uncertainty of what lies ahead cast a melancholy shadow over the whole encounter.
The day has left me with more questions than answers, but the building is secure, and that will have to be enough for now.
When I arrive home fifteen minutes later, I push open the door to a world that feels miles away from the Langford. My house, while sizable and undoubtedly nice, carries a simplicity that speaks more to comfort than to extravagance. It's a home, first and foremost, crafted with Aria in mind, each space designed to be lived in and loved.
Aria's laughter greets me before I even see her, the sound a balm to the ragged edges that shape my person. As I step into the living room, her bright eyes catch mine, and in that moment, the weight of the world seems to lift. I scoop her up in a hug, planting a kiss atop her curly hair, her small arms clasping tightly around my neck.
The babysitter, a local college student that came highly recommended, hovers near the doorway, her presence a reminder of the life I've structured around Aria's needs. I thank her with a warm smile, pressing the agreed-upon cash into her hands. She offers Aria a playful wave goodbye, promising to return soon, and then she's gone, the door closing softly behind her.
As Aria launches into a detailed account of her day, from the forts she built out of cushions to the adventures of her favorite cartoon characters, my thoughts can't help but drift back to Natalie. The intensity of our encounter, the possibility of something more, hangs heavily in my mind.
I find myself wondering, not for the first time, what it might be like to introduce Natalie to this part of my life. The thought of the two most important worlds I inhabit coming together is daunting, yet undeniably hopeful. Could there be a place for Natalie in the simple, yet profound life I've built with Aria?
