Ctrl + Alt + Dalt (BxB)

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After what seems like an eternity, or possibly an hour, the two characters on the screen share a romantic moment that heats up into a passionate scene. Henri leans into me and says something in French. Having taken two years of French in high school, he likely doesn't realize that I can pick up what he's saying to mean that he wishes that we were doing the same thing as what is being acted out onscreen. He leans in closer and I can feel his lips brush my ear, sending me into flashbacks of my moments shared with Edmund.

"Lâchez-moi." I push him away as I get up and storm off—I want Edmund to be the only one to do that to me.

Exiting the theatre, I can only hope that Jordan can forgive me for failing him as his wing-man. I tried my best, but I won't allow myself to do anything that will jeopardize my relationship with Edmund. Walking to my car, I hope that it all goes well for Jordan and Adam, despite now having to deal with Henri's dashed hopes for a good night.

Alone in my car, I try to wipe away the nauseating memory of Henri's lips on my ears, reminding myself only of Edmund's. I text Edmund, letting him know exactly what had just happened. He replies, telling me that he completely understands, congratulating me for doing my best to support Jordan, telling me that he misses having me in his arms, but that we'll see each other soon enough. I wait in my car, just in case Jordan calls or texts me about things not going well for him and about him possibly needing a ride back home. After over an hour with nothing from Jordan, I figure it's a good sign that's he's still with Adam, so I finally decide to leave.

~ ~ ~

As I sit alone on my bed and alone in an empty house, I stare at the silver wrappings of Edmund's unopened gift. Perhaps hoping that I will somehow generate some sort of good luck for Jordan, I decide to finally open the gift. I can't shake the possibility that I may have reaffirmed our friendship, only to have him be mad at me for possibly ruining his night. As I unwrap the paper, I hope with all my might that everything goes well so that he has nothing for which to be really mad at me about.

As I open it, I stare at the photo of all three of us smiling with the ocean behind us, but I really stare at Edmund and his beautiful, perfect smile. I can't believe that he's all mine, waiting for me in England. I set the picture up on my nightstand. Reaching behind the frame, I feel something attached to the backing. Flipping it over, I'm happy to find an envelope. Removing it from the backing of the frame, I open the envelope to retrieve the letter inside, excited to read what Edmund might have written for me. Unfolding the letter, it simply has one line, handwritten in cursive, "Let no goodbyes ever part our lips for, forever, we shall seek each other, always and again."

I smile, admiring his handwriting while I remember our night together in bed. Catching a hint of his unmistakable, citrus cologne, I sniff the letter, tracking down the scent to the back where it seems to be strongest. I lie down in bed, covering my face with the letter, surrounding myself with the scent of Edmund as I close my eyes and imagine him lying next to me.

"See you in a week..." I whisper, hoping my words and thoughts will reach across the pond.

~ ~ ~

I wake to the morning sounds of chirping, the birds singing their mating songs coming in through my open window. Rising from my bed, I glance at my nightstand, finding myself staring at Edmund until the loud clang of a pot or pan rings out through the house and into my room through my closed door—must be Mother in the kitchen. It seems very much a rare morning that she's actually downstairs, cooking breakfast. My stomach growling with keen interest, I head down to investigate.

Rounding the corner into the kitchen, Mother finishes the final touches of plating what she's made, garnishing Eggs Benedict with finely-diced parsley. Although she has yet to notice me, it appears that she's already made a second plate—it must be for me—Father is still away on business. She turns around, startling with a bit of a jump as she sees me standing at the doorway.

"Glad you could join me for breakfast, Dalt," she says, gesturing for me to take a seat at the table.

"Thanks for making me a plate," I say and we sit across from one another. She watches me with a seemingly knowing kind of look as I take a bite. She beams with an odd smile and I throw her a raised brow. "What did you put in here and how long do I have to live?"

"Oh, he even has jokes this morning." She giggles. "So, what's his name?"

"Who?" I ask, innocently—I hadn't told her anything about Edmund and I can scarcely see how she's caught on in the mere seconds that she's seen me.

"Did you use protection?" She smirks as she reaches for a napkin.

"Mother, that's hardly appropriate breakfast conversation," I demur, setting down my knife and fork as my cheeks grow warm. I give her an expression of disapproval.

"I've a right to know if my baby boy is being safe," she says, nonchalantly, setting the napkin upon her lap as I groan in discomfort and in protest of the topic.

"If you must know, it didn't go that far," I admit, trying not to recall the inappropriate specifics of the matter while I'm trying to eat breakfast in the company of my very own mother.

"Well, it must have gone far enough somewhere, because sex is virtually written on your forehead." She picks up her utensils as I groan again, even more loudly than the last. What is it that people pick up on that allows them to read such personal things off of me so seemingly easily? "So, what's his name and when do I get to meet him?"

"Edmund," I say and she smiles as I continue, "as for meeting him, I haven't a clue as to when, since that might be quite difficult, seeing as he lives in England."

"Oh, dear, I'm sorry," she says, frowning slightly. I raise a brow of confusion towards her reaction. "I don't want to jinx anything, but you know what they say about long-distance relationships. Unless—does he plan to move here?"

"Not exactly." I hesitate to say anything more, since I know how big and crazy my plans sound even within my own mind. She gives me an insistent look for me to continue and I decide that I might as well share it. "I'm visiting him this weekend. If all goes well, I may be the one to be moving there."

"You?" she asks, eyes wide with shock. "Well, this has been quite the way to start the morning."

"I know, it's rather sudden, but I do promise that I am taking it one day at a time with him," I say, readying myself to have to further defend the major decision that I realize that I'm making for my life. Her expression softens unexpectedly into one that perhaps denotes her acceptance, rather surprisingly.

"The heart knows what it knows," she says, finally slicing into her breakfast, the yolk running down the sides of the muffin as it mixes with the hollandaise sauce. "I'm sure that you're father will be quite happy to hear of it."

"Why's that?" I ask, raising a puzzled brow, unsure of what she means. "Why would he be particularly happy about this?"

"I suppose that it's not surprising that you don't know, seeing as he hardly ever talks about it anymore. His grandfather—you're great grandfather—was from Surrey. The two of them would often walk along the Thames when your father was still little. He loved those walks, almost as much as he misses his grandfather, so I wouldn't be surprised if he still wants to move back there."

"Really?" I ask, completely shocked about finally learning so much about my family history that I've never heard before, and about learning so much about my father that he'd never even bothered to share with me. She finally takes the time to take a bite of her food, leaving me to simmer as I wait for her, eager for her to continue.

"He's previously expressed the idea. His company does have a branch in London, so he could apply for a transfer easily enough, but he wanted to wait, for your sake, until you'd settled down and figured out what you wanted for your life first."

"Edmund lives in London," I comment, surprised with how everything seems to be coming together rather nicely.

"I suppose, we'll all be moving there shortly."

"Well, let's not be too hasty. I haven't even gone to visit him just yet," I say, although it's not as if I'm having any second thoughts. She sets her utensils down to wipe her lips. As she lowers her napkin, she wears a kind of knowing smile.

"The heart knows what it knows."