Cammy blinked slowly, her lashes catching the moisture that returned uninvited to her eyes. Her lips parted, but no sound ca out. She was stunned. "Greg..."
"I’m not asking to change your mind," Greg added quickly, his voice cracking under the weight of emotion. "I know this is goodbye. I know this... isn’t a fairy tale for us. But I want just one more day. No guilt. No goodbyes. No pretending."
He stood then, walked toward her, but kept a careful distance. "Let have that, Cammy. Let say goodbye to you the way I never got to before. Let hold the woman I love... one last ti, before we step into the lives we have to live."
Cammy’s breath hitched. Her heart was in her throat, her soul splitting between what she wanted and what she needed to do. She could feel Ric watching her, waiting for her answer—but not pressuring, not interfering.
Tears slid quietly down her cheeks.
She nodded, ever so slowly, even as her chest threatened to cave in.
"One day," she whispered. "Just one."
Greg exhaled a broken breath, and for the first ti in a long ti, a trace of peace flickered in his eyes.
"Just one," he echoed.
And for the three of them, ti suddenly felt borrowed, precious, painful, and irreversible.
"Can we go tomorrow?" Greg asked softly, his voice almost pleading, though he tried to mask it with calm. "If not, then... maybe this weekend?"
Cammy stared at him for a long, quiet mont. She was weighing not just the day, but the emotions, the consequences, the gravity of what that one day ant. She could feel her heart pounding louder than her thoughts.
Finally, she gave a slow, deliberate nod. "Tomorrow is better," she said, her voice gentle but heavy with unspoken sorrow. "While we’re still in Arlon. I can leave Dylan with my parents for the day... and maybe spend a bit of ti with them before we go back to Dalton."
Greg exhaled with relief, though his expression remained solemn. "That’s settled, then. Let’s head out early—so we don’t miss our flights back." He tried to sound casual, but the cracks in his composure were already starting to show.
Ric, who had been quietly listening, shifted slightly. His voice ca in steady, even though there was a slight tightness in it. "You can use my car," he offered. "You don’t have one here in Arlon, and mine’s already fueled up."
Cammy turned to him and gave a small, grateful smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "It’s okay, Ric," she replied softly. "We can use my mom’s car instead. I know you still have so events lined up here... and you’ll need your car."
Ric opened his mouth to protest but stopped himself, sensing the weight of everything unsaid between the three of them. He nodded instead, slowly, silently stepping back.
The room was filled with quiet tension, a quiet kind of grief.
Tomorrow was now a promise—a fragile, final mory yet to be made.
None of them said it aloud...
But all three knew it:
This wasn’t just a day trip.
It was a farewell dressed as one.
After coming up with that plan, Cammy and Ric finally stood at the hotel entrance, the afternoon breeze brushing past them as they exchanged a quiet, heavy farewell with Greg.
The tension in the air was evident. Unspoken emotions still swirled between the three of them like smoke from a fire that hadn’t fully died.
Greg’s eyes lingered on Cammy longer than necessary, as if trying to morize her face. Every line, every glance, every breath, before he finally nodded, offering Ric a faint, respectful smile.
"Take care of her," he said, his voice hoarse but controlled.
Ric t his gaze steadily. "I will."
Without another word, Greg turned and walked back inside, the weight of his retreat echoing behind him.
Silence hung in the car as Cammy and Ric pulled away from the hotel.
But then, Ric suddenly turned the wheel and pulled over near a quiet park. He shifted the car into park but didn’t say anything for a few seconds. His hands remained on the steering wheel, jaw clenched as if he were holding sothing back.
Finally, he looked at her.
"Cammy... are you really sure about this?" His voice was low but painted with urgency. "Before you answer that, I want you to think of yourself, not just the baby."
Cammy’s eyes didn’t waver. She looked directly at him, her gaze calm but full of finality.
"No need to think, Ric. I’m already sure of my decision," she said with quiet strength. "One last day with Greg tomorrow... then we go back to Dalton. I’ll wait for the divorce to finalize... then we’ll get married. We can announce the pregnancy when the ti is right."
Ric let out a slow breath, as if he’d been holding it all day. He turned toward her more fully now, his voice softer but resolute.
"Okay... if that’s what you really want," he said. "But Cammy, don’t make a contract for . I’m not doing this with a tiline in mind. After we get married, if you ever want out, if you feel trapped, or if you fall in love with soone else, you can divorce . No questions, no guilt. I will let you go."
Cammy’s eyes widened slightly, not expecting the raw honesty in his words. Her lips trembled, but she held them together, refusing to let emotion tip her balance again.
"Ric..." she whispered, "thank you. For being willing to do this for , for the baby... for everything."
He gave her a gentle nod, eyes flickering with sothing unspoken—sothing deeper than gratitude. But he said nothing more.
The car fell quiet again, but it wasn’t awkward—just heavy with the weight of promises and pain and sothing that might, soday, beco love.
They drove off once more toward the penthouse, the afternoon feeling darker... but strangely full of aning.
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