Page 3 of Cuts Like an Angel: Part 2

Chapter Two

Rosie

Rosie's knees knocked together in the seat as the plane touched down finally. Nine hours in the air. Nine hours of waiting to crash and die, and of conjuring up exactly how her happily ever after would explode in flames around her.

And now, it was happening. It was finally happening. She was there, in one piece, watching the asphalt speed by, purse clutched to her chest, heart stuttering.

But the plane could still crash. And explode. She’d breathe when it came to a full stop.

She looked around as people moved in their seats, preparing to disembark. Her stomach suddenly lurched and her breaths came faster as she realized—she'd made it in one piece. Not even the catastrophic circumstances of the life she ran from, or, even the secrets about Maria were the least of her threats now.

A happy English accent came over the intercom, feeling like the gunfire at the opening of an Olympic race. Seatbelts disengaged with clinks and people scurried for their carry-on luggage above their seats. Rosie swallowed and hooked her purse strap on her shoulder as she got in line. Not having any carry-on luggage but her purse, she clutched it like a life preserver as she made her way on shaky legs to the exit.

Stepping into the tunnel connecting them to the airport terminal, she staggered a little. Courtesy of nine hours with no sleep, no food, and not enough movement.

Buzzing voices filled the jet bridge as they made the trek to the first stop—passport control. The throng of people slowed to a standstill, and she leaned to see how long the line was. Only fifty thousand before her.

What if he was watching her from some place she couldn’t see? She quickly plastered a happy smile on her face, not wanting him to think she had any fears about returning. She wasn’t afraid of what she was coming to, she was afraid of what she’d just left. A family on a feeding frenzy of her life and freedoms. But they would never keep her from seeing that beautiful broken man again, and boy, had they tried.

She dispelled the thoughts that felt like doom bait. Live today. Seize today. Own today. Tomorrow has its own things. Today is here and now. Yesterday is gone and will never return. Tomorrow isn’t here. And may never come echoed around in her head as Rosie fought to keep her emotions in check

It was finally her turn. She hurried forward to the passport counter. The shorter of the two officers took her little book, looked at it, then at her. He repeated the process a second time and leaned over and whispered something to the officer next to him, showing him something in her passport. Rosie's heart hammered so hard, she thought it would break her chest. God, please.

The second officer looked at her and she bit her tongue on the million wrong questions that would surely make her sound stupid at best, suspicious and guilty at worst. Her mind raced at what could be wrong. Was it her picture? Did she look so different in it? Was there a terrorist that looked exactly like her? Visions of them dragging her to the floor and arresting her bloomed like spilled blood in her brain.

"Sorry," the man said with a sudden smile. He then stamped her book and handed it all back.

"Th-thank you," she stuttered, trying not to hurry through and look suspicious. If they detained her, it would be hours before she'd see William. Her luck, he'd think she hadn't come, and go throw himself off a cliff while she sat in a cubicle trying to convince them she was innocent.

She blindly raced toward the luggage area, fearing any more delays. Felt like she'd been an hour but really it had only been, what? Maybe twenty minutes? He knew all this stuff took time, she hoped he remembered. She should have reminded him before boarding.

She knew he was expecting her not to return. Out of all the things, that one hurt her the most. To think he was so damaged that he couldn't bring himself to imagine somebody would come back to him. Disproving every lie in his beautiful head burned inside her like a vengeance. She wanted to spend every day of her life showing him he was wrong. Life could be good; people could be good. He was good, and most of all, he was worthy and deserving of the love she would smother him with.

She needed to look confident for him. Be confident. Not needy. Not terrified that he might not be there because she knew he was. And if he wasn't, it was because he was too terrified to be, too terrified to face the disappointment of hoping for the impossible.

She held her breath and rounded that final corner. Two steps in, and she froze, gripping her bags in both hands. She froze. Oh God, oh God, oh God. There he was; there he was, standing right there, staring right at her. The look of desperate hunger and fear on his beautiful face shot Rosie forward in a speed walk toward him, racing to prove she wasn't a mirage or a dream. She was real.

She came to stop before him, just on the other side of the little barrier. She wasn't sure what she was expecting to see, but the hungry, awestruck look in his stormy blue eyes stole her mind and breath.

"You're here," he barely said, sounding as amazed as he looked.

Rosie gasped and dropped her bags, throwing her arms around him.

"Rosie," he gushed in her ear, his hands pressing her tightly to him.

"I'm here," she said, choking on the words.

He continued to hold her tightly as though she might vanish if he moved an inch. "You're here. You're really here."

"I'm here," she repeated, running her fingers in his hair, not caring who saw. She didn't care about anything but him. The feel of him, the smell of him, and the sound of his breaths, hot in her ear. William, her William, right there. Every second she'd longed to touch him, love him, save him from pain, rushed through her and out of her. "I've got you," she whispered as his erratic breaths pressed into her body. How could anything take this from them? Surely there was nothing strong enough to, nothing brave enough to challenge this love between them.

He broke the hug only to grab her face in his hands and kiss her. Right there. The hunger in his hold stole her breath and she let it take her. He kissed her over and over at every angle as though her lips were an addictive drug he couldn't stop tasting. Words tumbled into her mouth, a soft murmur, and she finally smiled at making out what he was saying. "I can't stop. I can't stop."

She pulled back at hearing he might be serious and giggled when he leaned in for more. "How about we find a room," she whispered, hoping to cue him in on the amount of kissing time they'd spent there in public. Like one of those silly breath-freshening gum commercials where they kiss till the airport is closing down.

"Right," he said, guiding her through the opening and taking the heaviest bag from her. He pulled her through the airport like a man on the run.

"Slow down," she laughed.

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