Page 57 of Ticket to You

Under my arms, Ophelia tenses. “Abrams, we’ve only spent a week together.”

“A nonstop, twenty-four seven week together.”

At that, Ophelia rolls out from my embrace to lie on her side. She’s still close enough to twist her fingers through my hair slowly. With her hair wild around her face and her features cast in dramatic shadow, she looks more beautiful than ever.

“It would be such a risk. Not just financially, but it would also putthisat risk.” Ophelia waves her hand between us. “What if I quit my job, work with you, and we end up hating each other again?”

I laugh heartily and press Ophelia’s palm against my lips in a gentle kiss. The idea of hating her is preposterous. “Let me remind you, you hated me at the start of this trip, and we still worked damn well together.”

Ophelia chews on her bottom lip, and a creased line forms between her furrowed eyebrows. “Adam…”

“I know, I know. It’s a risk. But if you ever change your mind, I’d consider myself lucky to work alongside you again.”

Ophelia smiles and scoots closer.

“Even if we weren’t sleeping together,” I add, smirking.

“So, for now, what’s next is we go back to New York, and then what? I work atAtelier Today,and you…”

“I’ll be heading to Southeast Asia in a few days.”

Her shoulders droop. “That soon?”

“On Monday.”

“For how long?”

“Three months.”

“A lot can happen in three months, Adam.”

I smile, thinking back to the holiday party. That seems so distant now. “I know. Three months ago, you hated me.”

“I didn’t—” Ophelia cuts herself off, seeing my raised eyebrows, and laughs lightly. I wish I could bottle the sound of it up.

I reach over to stroke Ophelia’s cheek. “Tomorrow evening, after we land, I’m heading straight to my mom’s house. She wants to throw a little party to celebrate the documentary and the new magazine. She may not approve of my lifestyle, but she loves any excuse to brag about her kids. I’d love for you to come.”

Ophelia’s mouth drops open. “Meet your family?”

Shit.I was so sure about my desire to have Ophelia there with me, I hadn’t even considered that she might not feel the same.

I clear my throat clumsily. “Maybe it’s too soon. I just thought—”

I’m silenced by Ophelia squeezing my arm. “I would love to meet your family. But you have to promise you’ll help me figure out what I’m going to wear. I don’t have any experience with big families.”

* * *

The next morning,we spend our last hours on our trip doing anything we can to distract ourselves from the fact that it’s our last hours of the trip. We devour the hotel breakfast, walk through the city of Manchester, and spend thirty minutes in a cheesy tourist shop finding the perfect postcard to send home.

When we get on our plane to go back to New York, we’re so caught up in our constant conversations that Ophelia hardly notices when our plane takes off into the air. Most of the other passengers on the flight watch movies or read books quietly, but Ophelia and I are too wired to relax. Instead, we talk in excited whispers, always in physical contact.

I’ve never felt so alive.

31

OPHELIA

I textGemma as soon as our plane touches down at JFK airport.

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