Chapter 14 - The Flight He Finally Takes
Ethan crossed the dance floor.
Camille smiled as he approached.
“You’re voluntarily coming back?”
The exact words from their first night.
He laughed.
“Apparently.”
She took his hand.
The band moved into a slow Kompa rhythm.
Ethan was better now.
Not good enough to impress anyone.
Good enough not to stare at his feet.
Camille noticed.
“Look at you.”
“Six months of intensive training.”
“You practiced?”
“No.”
“Liar.”
“Maybe YouTube.”
She laughed.
They moved beneath the lights.
Families talked around them.
Children chased each other between tables.
The bay was dark and calm beyond the railing.
Everything resembled the night they met.
Nothing felt the same.
Camille looked into his eyes.
“What?”
Ethan realized he had been staring.
“I love you.”
Her steps stopped.
He nearly collided with her.
The music continued.
Camille blinked.
Ethan’s heart hammered.
“That was abrupt.”
“I was told my timing is bad.”
“By whom?”
“Daniel.”
“That explains the quality of the advice.”
Ethan almost laughed.
Then Camille touched his face.
“Say it again.”
“I love you.”
Her eyes filled.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“Calculated?”
“For approximately six months.”
Camille laughed through tears.
Then she kissed him in the middle of the dance floor.
Someone cheered.
Probably Aunt Solange.
Ethan did not care.
When they separated, Camille whispered, “I love you too.”
Simple.
No fireworks.
No proposal.
No promise that distance would magically become easy.
Just truth.
Later that night, they sat on the same hotel balcony where Ethan had changed his flight.
Camille rested her legs across his lap.
“So this is where you made the terrible financial decision.”
“Yes.”
“Worth it?”
He pretended to consider.
“Ask me when airline prices decrease.”
She kicked him lightly.
Ethan smiled.
“Worth it.”
Camille looked toward the water.
“What happens after six months?”
Their agreed deadline had arrived.
Ethan did not hesitate.
“I want another six.”
She turned.
“And after that?”
“I don’t want to keep renewing our relationship like software.”
Camille laughed.
“Good.”
Ethan continued.
“I want to build something.”
“With me?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“That’s the hard part.”
Over the following weeks they discussed cities.
Miami made sense for Camille.
Seattle made sense for Ethan.
Neither wanted the other to sacrifice without ownership.
Then Priya offered Ethan something unexpected.
The company planned to open a small engineering office in Atlanta.
They needed someone senior to help establish it.
Atlanta was not Miami.
But it was a short flight.
Closer to Camille’s family.
A major airport.
Lower cost than Seattle.
Ethan told Camille.
She surprised him.
“No.”
He stared at the video call.
“No?”
“You like Seattle.”
“I like you more.”
“That is romantic and unacceptable.”
“What?”
“I’m not letting you choose a city you don’t want because it’s geographically convenient.”
“It isn’t only convenience. It’s a promotion.”
“Do you want it?”
Ethan stopped.
That was the question.
Not what made sense.
Not what created the cleanest logistics.
What did he want?
“I don’t know.”
“Then find out.”
For three weeks he thought about it.
Walked Seattle.
Visited Atlanta.
Worked from Miami.
He imagined each life.
Then one morning in Seattle, standing beside Lake Washington, Ethan realized something.
For years he assumed home was the place that required the fewest changes.
Now he knew better.
Home could be something built.
He accepted Atlanta.
But only after negotiating a schedule that allowed him to work remotely from Miami one week each month.
Camille did something equally surprising.
She applied for a supervisory role at a rehabilitation center affiliated with Emory University.
Not because Ethan asked.
He did not even know until she received an interview.
“What are you doing?”
“Exploring.”
“You love your clinic.”
“I do.”
“Then don’t leave for me.”
“I’m not.”
Camille smiled.
“I’m checking whether another life might also be mine.”
She received the job.
Better pay.
More responsibility.
Research opportunities.
She still hesitated.
Then her mother said, “Miami is where you live, not where you owe your life.”
Three months later, Camille accepted.
Their move to Atlanta happened eleven months after they met.
Ethan arrived first.
He rented an apartment.
Not purchased.
That was Camille’s condition.
“No giant decisions before we survive sharing one bathroom.”
“We could rent two bathrooms.”
“That defeats the experiment.”
Camille arrived two weeks later.
She brought too many plants.
Ethan labeled kitchen shelves.
She removed half the labels.
They argued about thermostat settings.
They discovered Ethan folded towels incorrectly according to Camille.
Ethan discovered there were apparently moral dimensions to towel folding.
Real life began.
Then, six weeks after moving in, Camille received a call from Miami.
André.
She stepped onto the balcony.
Ethan did not follow.
Ten minutes later she returned.
Her expression was strange.
“What happened?”
Camille sat beside him.
“André is getting married.”
Ethan blinked.
“That was fast.”
“Not really.”
“To Renée?”
“No.”
“Someone else?”
Camille nodded.
“A woman from his firm. Naomi.”
“How do you feel?”
She considered.
“Happy.”
Ethan waited.
“And sad.”
He nodded.
“And relieved.”
“That makes sense.”
Camille looked at him.
“He invited us.”
“To the wedding?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“December.”
“Where?”
She smiled.
“Key Largo.”
Ethan groaned.
“No.”
“What?”
“I refuse to attend another Florida wedding.”
Camille laughed.
“You’re afraid of dancing.”
“I’m afraid of airline change fees.”
She kissed him.
“We’re going.”
Ethan sighed.
“Of course we are.”
What neither knew was that the next wedding would force Ethan to confront one fear he had not yet admitted.
Because André was moving forward.
Camille was moving forward.
May you like
And Ethan suddenly realized he had begun thinking about a ring.
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