One More Shot At LOVE

Amelia POV

As the aircraft taxied approached the Melbourne terminal, the flight attendant urged passengers to "wait until the plane comes to a complete stop before leaving your seat."

With a sigh, Amelia sank back into her chair and closed her eyes briefly to get the energy to get up. She was tired after thirty-four hours, two layovers, and too many time zones to tally. She was lucky enough to have completed the customs process upon her arrival in Sydney. However, she needed to spend two more hours in the automobile before finally falling asleep peacefully.

If her mother let it, that is. Amelia probably wouldn't see her bed for at least six hours, given her knowledge of Julia Farraday. The only bright spot was that Julia could get sidetracked by Zoë, Amelia's sister, and the hurried wedding planning. Amelia intended to slip out when the bride's mother became distracted. Did moms who were even more of bridezillas than the brides have a term for them?

She had been intending to return home soon anyhow, but this was the reason she was coming home. Even though Amelia wasn't sure she was ready to cope with "home" just yet, her sister's wedding was a good reason to take the long-haul trip home.

The 'fasten seatbelt' indicator dinged off as the aircraft came to a complete halt. Amelia took her time getting to the front of the passengers, attempting to get off the aeroplane. Rather, she turned to face the tarmac outside the window. As airline baggage handlers and other support personnel worked tirelessly to unload the bags and prepare the jet for its return flight to Sydney, the summer heat glistened off the ground.

Amelia had dressed appropriately for the four degrees below zero she had experienced when she boarded the plane in Italy. The pilot helpfully informed them that the temperature in Melbourne was in the high thirties. A day and a half later—which, with the time difference, was three days, despite the entire flying time only being about twenty-two hours (not including layovers)—Amelia still couldn't get to make any sense in her head despite having been the one to make the trip. Before they left for home, maybe Zoë would allow her to change.

House. Was Hope Springs still where you lived? She was ignorant. Amelia had never once given thought to leaving the little rural village.

She believed it was where she would live and die, but at this point, she was ignorant.

As the people in the aisle began to disperse, Amelia waited until the plane was almost empty before standing up and retrieving her carry-on bags from the overhead bin. She exited the aircraft with the remaining survivors, grinning and thanking the flight attendants as she went, and made her way down the tunnel leading to the terminal.

She switched on her phone and waited for it to start while she was out and about. She let out a sigh when a message from her sister appeared on the screen.

Z: I'm a bit behind schedule. I'll text you an estimated time of arrival when your aircraft lands.

Amelia chose not to respond right away. Zoë and her fiancé, Blake, had already arrived, or they had not. If not, from baggage claim, she would text them.

Thank goodness the airport air conditioning was turned up, so Amelia didn't feel like taking off her boots, pants, and silk long-sleeve blouse immediately. The scarf and overcoat, which she had discarded upon boarding the aircraft, now weighed excessively on her arm. Perhaps she should get dressed in the ladies' room before getting her bags. Placing everything on the conveyor belt always took them a long time.

Amelia turned toward the restrooms rather than going straight to baggage claim, only to run straight into a wall of masculinity. She bounced off and was about to fall, but then a powerful arm caught her and pulled her back against that hard chest again.

Her breath stopped in her chest as she stepped back and gazed up at the stranger when she had her feet.

Nothing to say.

She had practised this speech a thousand times or more in anticipation of seeing him again, but there were no words. They were in an airport, she was jet tired, and she wasn't ready. This was not how it was intended to happen. She was expected to run into him in Hope Springs, looking amazing and not reeking of bad foreign travel odours.

Her eyes were listing him as she was having these frightened thoughts. He was different and yet the same. Even though nine months wasn't much, she could see he had changed based on the tightness in his jaw and the fatigue around his eyes. The carefree person she had fallen in love with had vanished, and someone tougher had taken his place.

There was a hint of scruff on his face, and she was quite familiar with how those sharp whiskers felt on her flesh. The depth of his tan would also make sense, given that his blonde hair appeared brighter, as though he had spent some time in the sun. Although she wouldn't describe him as little, he was slimmer. His broad shoulders and strong thighs gave him a brick-shithouse build, but he appeared more muscular today, with less flesh to soften the harsh contours.

Amelia assumed she seemed different as well. She hadn't shed any pounds—who in Europe, surrounded by butter, carbohydrates, and chocolate, can lose weight? However, she was aware of her more subtle changes. Even by her admission, she had grown up. Upon reflection on their five-year relationship, Amelia realised she bore a significant portion of the blame for the way things transpired. She had been so immature and insecure that she had thought he would fill in all of her gaps.

She was aware now that was not how relationships operated.

“Smith," she said, finally finding her voice and being able to speak. What did it matter if her eyes were gobbling him up like they were half-starved and her speech sounded breathy?

With a low, dark growl that made her blood boil, he said, “Amelia."

They stood uncomfortably, warily glancing at one another as they waited for the other to speak.

To the person who destroyed your heart, what in the world were you expected to say?