Never Say Goodbye

by Sakwa, Kim

  His hands had still held her head, but his thumbs had begun tracing her face, brushing her features as he bent toward her again. Then he’d felt Amanda’s hands move up his chest and tangle in his hair. She’d pulled him closer. So. Bloody. Sweet. He’d turned, pressing her to the wall as he took the kiss deeper. He could kiss her forever.

  “Amanda,” he’d finally whispered in between tugs.

  “Mmm?”

  “We have to go now.”

  “Okay, Alexander,” she’d said on a sigh.

  But they’d gone nowhere. In fact, they’d stood in the hallway so long Stephen had finally come and cleared his throat at the bottom of the stairs. Alexander had sworn under his breath; Amanda had laughed.

  “Amanda?” he’d asked, putting a hand out to Stephen, unlike tonight when he’d done the opposite.

  “Yes, Alexander?”

  “Where do you want to belong?”

  “Here, Alexander. I only want to be here—with you and Callesandra.”

  “And I want you to be here, Amanda. With me and Callesandra.”

  He’d kissed her one more time, looking into her eyes as he’d held her face between his hands. “Come with me, Amanda.” She’d nodded and followed Alexander to his study, where he’d been surprised to find himself nervous. He hadn’t exactly consulted with her before calling the priest, but despite the brief time in which they had known one another, he’d never felt more connected to anyone before in his life. He’d wager all his gold that she felt the same way. But still.

  “What’s going on?” Amanda had asked as he led her into the chamber where his men and the priest were standing. He’d squeezed her hand gently for luck before chancing a look at her.

  “Amanda, this is Father Paul,” he’d explained, figuring it best to get straight to the point. “He’ll be performing the ceremony.”

  “What ceremony?” Amanda had asked, confusion clouding her face, and for a moment Alexander had feared he’d made a mistake, misread everything.

  “Our ceremony,” Alexander had replied, hoping she wouldn’t balk.

  Lucky for him, she hadn’t objected. They were married. Their vows repeated in minutes, and Alexander had placed a silver band upon her finger eagerly. When she’d asked where it came from, he’d told her it has been made that morning, along with his own, which he’d handed to her to place on his own finger. Then everyone else had left the room and they’d stood there alone together.

  “For a long time, Amanda, I’ve believed in very little, and have known happiness only with my daughter. But you’re here for a reason, and I’ll not let you go.”

  “I don’t want to go anywhere, Alexander. Not anymore. Not ever.”

  Stephen put a hand on his shoulder, drawing him from the memory. They spent the next two hours going over their plans. Their evacuation plans.

  Amanda retired to the parlor. She knew Alexander would join her when his business with Stephen and his men was addressed. A new commission, perhaps? Orders from America? It wasn’t enough that she had to be worried about being ripped away from him and Callie and sent back to her century out of nowhere, not that she knew that was going to happen, but she honestly didn’t know that it wasn’t going to happen, either. Alexander had warned her, begged actually, to stay far away from the tunnels and the cliffs and she’d agreed easily. She had no desire to tempt fate as it were. Though she and Alexander had been separated much of the three months they’d been together, she considered the times they were together as some of the best of her life. Sure, she missed home and the twenty-first century. Who wouldn’t? She’d had what some would call a dream life. A gratifying career, with major accomplishments and accolades. Beautiful homes and really any luxury she could want. She missed her father, of course, but she could miss him here. Robert, no way she missed him. She was sorry he was dead but better him than her. So really that left only Samantha. Her one true friend. And yes, she missed her dearly. But she kept her close by sharing stories about her, and them, with Alexander and Stephen, and even Callie.

  She absently fingered the keys of the piano while watching for a sign of Alexander from the hallway. He was a man of his word, if he said they would start and finish their conversation later, they would. She just worried for his safety. He was walking a fine line between America’s Patriots and Britain’s Loyalists, and every time she was gone, she racked her brain for everything she could remember from history classes long ago, trying to figure out what was going on—and what would happen soon—based on the year. She truly never felt fully at ease unless she could see him, touch him. And when he was home, God bless the man, he was the best husband and friend. She knew he worried about the same things; he’d told her he feared she’d be gone as suddenly as she’d appeared.

  She walked to the window overlooking the back of the property, the rocky cliffs, and churning sea. When he wasn’t home, she found herself here in the evenings, hand pressed to the glass, watching for his safe return. Then she heard his footsteps and turned as he stepped into the parlor. She held out her hands in a come here motion. He smiled. “Wait for it…” he teased, turning toward the sideboard. He poured a scotch and joined her by the windows. A place they often found themselves on such nights as these.

  He kissed her soundly, his large hand cupping her head. Then turned her. As she felt him behind her, she relaxed against him. His arms circled her waist, his chin rested on her head. And as he did most nights, he eased her fears, sometimes just with the cadence of his voice. He began pointing at the stars in the sky then, telling her again how learning of their placement helped him navigate most of the seas. How by applying mathematical laws and those of physics he could chart his course. That lunar cycles had effects on the water’s currents. He spoke of having a sense of lights from ashore, those that beckoned to harm, and those that guided him home.

  She told him of how she studied dance and classical piano. That losing her mother at a young age had left such a deep void that she didn’t know how to fill. That even though her father had thrown himself into his work and remarried, she knew he loved her more than anything. She told him of her friendship with Sam, how they’d met, supported each other as though they were sisters, and some of the antics they’d been involved in.

  He told her of family duty. His arranged marriage. The joy of his daughter and the anguish of losing his son. That being wealthy and titled, achieving a coveted rank did not bring the joy people assumed.

  They would always be sitting on the floor by the time they’d talked themselves out. Alex leaning against the window with Amanda between his legs, leaning against his chest. They’d finished the ever-present glass of scotch a while ago and it sat empty beside them.

  Now he held his hand out for her. “Play something for me,” he asked.

  Amanda loved playing for him. Another thing she could do for hours—play and tell him all about music: classic and contemporary, composers and artists, songs and genres. She couldn’t think of anything she’d rather do right now.

  As Amanda walked to the piano, Alexander refilled his glass. She knew he felt better, or lighter as he would say, for having someone to share such things with. And she knew they were things they’d never shared with another. He crossed the room and joined her, taking a long pull of scotch as he leaned against the piano, running his finger along the rim of the glass. She reached for the glass, which he extended to her with a smile. If someone had told her she’d enjoy drinking scotch one day, she would have told them they were crazy. Knowing it was Alexander’s drink made it taste amazing. It wasn’t much later that they’d walked hand in hand upstairs and back to bed. Callie came in sometime in the middle of night and snuggled right between them. Amanda couldn’t remember ever being so content.

  “Callie,” Amanda called. “Come on, baby girl. Time for school.”

  “Coming, Mama.”

  Amanda waited at the bottom of the stairs,
smiling as Callie raced down. She was going so fast that Amanda could grab only her backpack as she blew past, which stopped her daughter in her tracks. “What’s this about?” Amanda asked, opening the front pouch of Callie’s bulging backpack and pulling out two colorful rolls of tape. By the way the little girl wouldn’t look her in the eyes, she had a feeling Callie was hiding something. A feeling that was only made stronger by the indignant “Mama” Callie threw her way.

  The tape Amanda was holding was the kind athletes and dancers used to help them through injury and recovery. Lately, between the stories she’d told Callie about her own injuries from ballet and how she’d used tape to help, and what Alex had told her about taping his hands for boxing, Callie had gotten the idea in her head that she needed it too. Amanda had to laugh. She hadn’t wanted Callie to be too obsessive about it, but then again, was there really any harm in allowing her to use the tape? Guess it was too late either way.

  “We’ve talked about this before, Callie,” Amanda reminded her, trying to keep the smile out of her voice. “Dance practice only.” Amanda held out the backpack for her daughter, then motioned with her head. “Move.”

  Callie crinkled her nose, stuck out her tongue, and ran to the courtyard. Amanda chuckled as she called over her shoulder, telling Rosa she’d be back, and followed Callie to the waiting Navigator. Stephen had already buckled her in and as she approached, Amanda heard him saying to Callie, “If you don’t want to get caught, Cal, you have to keep your cool.”

  “Thanks a lot, Stephen,” Amanda muttered, getting in next to Callie, but he must not have heard her, as he was already talking through his earbuds to the rest of the men in the four Navigators at the base of her drive. She’d only recently realized that those particular trucks weren’t there for Alex but were for her and the kids. Two to travel alongside them, and two to stay behind. She laughed out loud then, thinking back to when she and Sam had gone out for lunch the previous week and Sam had remarked dryly, “Right, the traveling circus—got it,” as the entourage had revved up to follow them. In the moment, Amanda had rolled her eyes and mouthed back The brothers Montgomery, with air quotes for emphasis. But there were worse things than being under their protection, and from where she was presently sitting, nothing better.

  Today was no different. When Stephen pulled out of the gates, he flashed his brights and within seconds their truck was safely ensconced between two more from Calder Defense. Stephen adjusted the rearview mirror and gave her a smile. “You okay, Amanda?”

  “Depends who’s asking,” she said with a wink.

  Stephen returned her wink and a short time later, their trucks pulled into an overlook area off the highway. Amanda absently reached out to brush Callie’s hair behind her ear as she glanced out her window at the side mirror, watching Alex’s convoy join them. That was a surprise—a good one.

  She’d missed him this morning. He’d been away on a business trip and only just returned, like maybe just now. In these last six weeks, ever since her first solo visit to his house across the lawn, they’d spent more time together, if that was even possible. Though time alone together wasn’t granted often—time in that middle ground they found together—she couldn’t have been more content. It was like enjoying the safest courtship ever. Like she knew where this was going so just getting caught up in the moment was okay for now. It was easy. No pressure. They’d kept the schedule they’d already fallen into, with Alex and the crew coming over early in the mornings. Breakfast on the terrace or on the few occasions it rained or was too windy they piled around the kitchen table. She’d even called Art a few weeks ago to tell him she had finally come around to accepting the invitation to attend the Night of the Stars charity event in May. Earlier, it had seemed like too much pressure, even if all she had to do was emcee the event. But now, feeling more grounded and knowing she’d have Alexander by her side, it didn’t seem that overwhelming.

  Little by little—taking Callie to school was just one example—Amanda was coming out of her hibernation. She’d actually gone to visit Alex at his offices the other day after dropping Callie off. She’d stood outside that building for the longest time, wondering why it seemed so odd to her that this was where he worked, or at least this was where some of his offices were located. She’d stared at the logo next to the letters that spelled out Calder Defense, a bit overcome, like blown away actually that this was his. And so proud of him, too. She knew this had been Art’s baby, but still—the building was incredible. It was eighteen stories high, with a helipad on the roof, constructed halfway into one of the rocky northern hills, and overlooked the ocean.

  That day, Stephen had pulled the Nav right up to Calder Defense’s front entrance before leading her through what looked like thick bulletproof glass. They bypassed the security guards while Stephen made silent acknowledgments to at least fifteen others, all of them armed with weapons and technology.

  Alex was waiting for them when the elevator doors opened on the top floor. He’d taken her hand right away, pulling her away from Stephen and into his office, where Alex closed the door and pressed her back against it. Then the man had kissed her senseless. Like rag doll senseless. He’d cupped her face with his large hands, leaned down, and used his brilliant, British mouth so effectively that he should have been arrested. Only after she’d been left incapable of forming a coherent word let alone sentence, he’d greeted her with a “Hi, beautiful.”

  He’d looked ridiculously happy to see her—it had been a surprise visit—but then his expression had changed. He’d studied her face. “Amanda? Are you alright, sweetheart?”

  “I’m fine. I just wanted to see where you went off to most days,” she said, feeling her cheeks burn. “If it’s a bad time, I can go.”

  “Never a bad time for you to stop by. Impromptu or not.”

  The man had an answer for everything. “Aren’t you ever fazed?” she’d asked, meaning it.

  Alex had smiled. “Not anymore,” he’d told her as he brushed the side of her neck with his thumb. She closed her eyes and let out a low groan of contentment.

  He’d sworn a signature “Bloody hell,” then kissed her again. She’d canted her head just where he liked it, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him back.

  “Should I go?” she asked when they came up for air again.

  “No.” He shook his head. “I have a meeting in”—he’d looked at the face of his watch—“three minutes. Stay here?”

  She nodded. “Yes, I’ll stay.” He’d led her to the sitting area on the opposite side of the room, sat her down, then started depositing items in her lap. First it was the remote to the large plasma TV, then he’d grabbed a laptop. Next an iPad. When he’d reached in his pocket and pulled out an antique compass she’d started laughing. This time she’d done the pulling; he didn’t resist, which helped a lot, and he’d landed right next to her. “I’m not five, Alex. You don’t have to give me toys to play with while you’re gone.” She reached out and brushed his hair back with her fingers. “I’ll be right here when you get back.”

  “You make my head spin,” he’d admitted with a lopsided grin. “Fresh coffee’s on the credenza. If you need anything, anything, tell me,” he’d said, slipping an earpiece into her ear. “This only transmits one way, so I’ll be able to hear you, but you won’t be bored with the details of our conference room meeting.” Then he’d kissed her forehead and walked to his office door. He’d turned and looked at her before opening it. It was another one of those if-she’d-had-a-picture moments, but seriously, if she’d had a picture of the look he’d given her, like she was his everything, she would have kept it forever.

  Lately, things had just fallen into place, begun to feel routine in a good way. Now in the evenings their large family-style dinners were even better. Music always playing in the background, laughter wafting throughout. And no matter what, it felt good. Seriously, she’d often just sit back, taking in Stephen and
Samantha either whispering or bickering, Stan rolling his eyes at something Michael and Trevor were saying. The boys, as Alex called them, were adorable, and she knew Alex had a special place for them in his heart. They were always with him, after all—jeez, they lived with him. Rosa continued to outdo herself daily with each meal she prepared, but dinners especially. Helen was still with them, not that Amanda needed a baby nurse anymore. Zander and Callie were a bit attached, though, and Evan had suggested keeping her on for now until things became normal again. She’d almost laughed in his face when he’d said it. Normal? Ah, yeah, whatever that was. And then there was Alex, always at the head of the table, like he was born to be there, conducting his troops and jumping in at any given moment to help with the kids. Games, puzzles, and sometimes movies after dinner became the nightly norm. And Alex was always a part of bedtime with the kids.

  For weeks, she had stopped making the mistake again of sending him home. For one, they were his children, and two, they really had settled into a comfortable space as a couple. If they didn’t join the crew for billiards, they went for long walks on the beach. She loved climbing on his back on the way down, before walking or being chased in the sand as the moon lit up the night, and always, lying between his legs once they’d come back to look at the stars. They danced, too, everywhere, and sometimes they’d end up sitting on the floor in front of the picture windows at his house overlooking the sea. Something about those moments in particular filled her with an immense feeling of joy—so much that she’d recently asked him if they used to sit like that before. He’d responded as he always did: “Every chance we had, sweetheart.”

  And kissing? There wasn’t a wall he hadn’t pressed her against. An angle he hadn’t held her head at. A brush, pull, or stroke of his lips on hers that she hadn’t experienced. It seemed he had a thing for walls. And she couldn’t say that she minded, because she had a thing for him. At Evan’s advice, she’d started keeping a journal of her déjà vu moments. As of late that’s really all she had been experiencing, and Amanda had a sneaking suspicion the kissing was at the center of that.