Page 47 of Sweet Nothings

His face is close to mine as he reaches between the inner wall of the helicopter and my hip. The buckle snaps before he sits back down.

Once he buckles himself in, he finally looks me in the eye. “We should be home in about twenty minutes.”

I nod and give him a small smile, then turn my head to look out the window. The golden lights of the towns between here and Boston shine bright. Unsure if this is the normal route or if it’s a special one, considering it’s my wedding night, we fly over thecoast. I watch in fascination as the waves lap and recede onto the shore. Small, white wooden buildings and cottage style houses line the shores of Massachusetts.

I’ve never seen New England from this view before. It’s breathtaking.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Lennon asks.

Did I just say that out loud without realizing it or was Lennon thinking the same thing?

I snap my head in his direction, the weight of the headphones wobbling on my head before evening out. “It’s gorgeous.”

“The view is best in late summer.”

“Why? Is it because of the fireworks for the fourth of July?”

“No.” He looks out the window on his side. “I don’t know why, but with every passing day, more boats can be seen floating in the harbor. It’s like a hundred glowing lights sprinkle the moonlit ocean. I think everyone realizes the summer doesn’t last long, so they try to soak up as much time on the water as they can.”

“I bet.” It’s true. New England summers don’t last long, but I think there’s beauty in that. It only makes us appreciate the sunny, warm weather even more.

Lennon and I don’t speak the rest of the ride home. We sit in silence, keeping our distance. Hope tugs on a string attached to my heart, wishing he’d reach out and touch me in some way. Place a hand on my knee. Brush his finger along my cheek like he usually does. But when the helicopter lands, he doesn’t touch me until he’s helping me step out of the helicopter.

We’ve landed on top of his building, and when we reach the door leading off the roof, I find a familiar face holding the door open for us. The helicopter turns off, allowing us to talk without having to yell.

“Laurel, this is my personal assistant, Ray,” Lennon says.

“Nice to see you again, Mrs. Harding.” Ray smiles.

I gasp. It’s the first time a connection to the night Lennon and I shared has been acknowledged. Relief and excitement balloons in my chest as if all my doubts have been validated. Not that Ray’s recollection and acknowledgement supersedes Lennon’s, but it’s nice to know I’m not alone with my memories.

“You as well.” I give Ray a smile then turn to Lennon, hoping he’ll make a comment about Ray’s introduction. But he doesn’t. He simply wraps his hand around mine.

“If you ever need anything, Ray will be here,” Lennon tells me. “I’ve already given him your phone number, and I’ll give you his so you can reach him at any time.”

Ray congratulates us on our marriage before Lennon leads me inside the doorway. We ride the elevator down two levels. When the doors slide open, I drop the train of my dress and step into my new home.

Lennon drops his keys and loosens his black tie. He spins around, walking backward as he talks.

“Ray’s already arranged to have all your clothes from the bags you left at the Cape Cod house this morning put away accordingly in our bedroom.” He points down the hallway.

I lean forward, eyeing the single bed situated along the farthest wall. Lennon requested I pack a bag with as many clothes and toiletries as I wished to bring to his place and bring it to the house in Cape Cod when I arrived this morning. I’m amazed he asked Ray to take them from the Cape house just to bring them back to the city.

Lennon’s city apartment is exactly how I imagined it to be: oak-stained walls, slate countertops covering a similar shade of oak cabinets. The kitchen looks untouched. The outer wall of the apartment is floor to ceiling glass overlooking downtown Boston. In the distance, I can see mine and Lennon’s office building.

I’m surveying the living room, noting a large TV in the far corner, along with one couch and one large leather chair. Other than that, there isn’t much to his apartment.

Lennon inches his way toward the front of the hallway and cocks his head to the side. “Come on. I’ll show you the rest of your new home.”

Hope tugs onto that string, once again, as I follow my husband down the long hallway. I step into the bedroom and play with my new wedding ring, twirling it around my finger. The sensation is foreign.

“Wait,” I say, eyeing the large bed. “Is this the only bed in the apartment?”

“Of course,” he says while removing his tie. He tosses it onto the bed and removes his jacket. “I’ve never needed more than one bed, Mrs. Harding. Not when it’s only been me living here. Is that a problem?”

Heat blooms in my cheeks. I still haven’t wrapped my head around the fact that we aren’t staying at the house on the Cape. He surprised me when he said we would be leaving. It only made sense for us to stay there before heading back to the city. But I could see the darkness coming over him when I brought up staying. I didn’t push him any further. Part of me thinks it could be because it’s the same place where his father’s funeral was held.

But it still doesn’t stop the nagging question bouncing around in my brain.

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