Page 10 of American Beauty

“Then tell me when I can come.” All she has to do is say the word.

“I used all my vacation time for the trip to Samoa, so I can’t take off again for a while.” The disappointment in her voice hits hard.

Not seeing her every day already feels unnatural. Knowing there’s no set date for when I’ll hold her again? It’s brutal.

She lifts my sweatshirt to her nose again, breathing in like she’s trying to hold on to something slipping through her fingers. Her gaze flicks between the screen and some far-off place in her mind. “I hate this part. I wish we had a date set. Something to count down to.”

So do I. The uncertainty of when I’ll see her again is the worst part, gnawing at the edges of my calm. “I’ll look at my work calendar, and we’ll plan something. We’ll figure it out.”

Her face crumples for half a second—barely there, but enough to wreck me. Like my words found the rawest, softest part of her and pressed right against it.

“Okay,” she says, her voice catching on the word. She nods, blinking fast like she’s trying to stay strong for both of us.

Her lashes flutter, lips parting just slightly. I see it—the way my words settle inside her. The way they stitch something back together. The way they make her feel this––feel me––even from thousands of miles away.

“You and me,” she says.

“You and me,” I parrot.

A beat passes. Then another. And even though I can’t touch her, I swear I feel her.

We’re in this together. We’re solid. And that’s all that matters.

The conversation slows, settling into something quieter, heavier. Neither of us wants to say it, but it’s late for her. And she’s exhausted. I see it in her slow blinks, in the way her voice softens into something barely there.

“You’re exhausted, babe.” She frowns, like she wants to argue, but I don’t let her. “I don’t want to let you go, but you need your rest.”

She sighs, the sound soft and reluctant. “Yeah. I’ve got to go back to work tomorrow.”

I hate the reminder. That she’s slipping back into her old life. That tomorrow will be the start of a new normal—one where I’m not beside her.

I shift onto my side, my voice quieter now. “Get some sleep.”

She gives me a sleepy, heart-tugging smile. “Goodnight, big guy. I love you.”

“I love you too, favorite. Sweet dreams.”

Her lips curve, soft and tired. “Goodnight, big guy. I love you.”

I smile even though the sun’s high overhead on my side of the world, hot against the windows.

“I love you too, favorite. Sleep sweet.”

A whisper of breath. A blink. Then—darkness.

She’s ending her night, and I’m barely halfway through my day. Time for meetings and obligations and pretending I’m fine. But part of me is there with her across oceans and time zones.

Chapter 3

Magnolia Steel

The glass doorsof Soul Sync glide open, and I step inside, my heels tapping out a quick, impatient rhythm against the freshly waxed floor. The office is exactly the same—bright, modern, and buzzing with quiet energy—but something is different.

It’s me.

I should feel excited to be back at Soul Sync. I should be ready to dive into work, to pick up where I left off before Sydney. But I sense a disconnection that wasn’t there before, a strange heaviness in my chest that I can’t quite shake.

Familiar faces greet me as I make my way to my office. Smiles, nods, welcome backs. I return them all, but it seems like I’m moving through a fog, present but not fully here.

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