The Beauty in Eternity

Chapter 83.

Everything I've longed for for the past two years seems like it disappears for a second, like for a minute—everything is just fine. I don't have time to think, or process, I don't have time to worry. It's like taking a breath of fresh air. I smile down at her as she grips the fabric of my shirt, and no matter how bad the situation may be, it feels okay for that split second. We're just here, in the moment—and for the first time in a very long time; I think right now... it's exactly where I'm supposed to be.

It takes me a few moments to realise that we're standing in the middle of a hallway—and I finally take a small step back. She lets out a small whimper as I release my grip; one that I doubt she even knows she made. One that instantly makes me want to wrap my arms around her again, but her face tells me differently. I step aside, and invite her in.

Amara's POV:

I walk inside, wiping under my eyes. As I step into the room he closes the door behind me, walking straight over to the mini-bar beside his bed. He pours out two glasses, motioning for me to take a seat on the small leather couch in the centre of the room. I take off my jacket and hang it on the coat-rail.

I take a seat as he hands me the glass. "Whisky?" I raise my brow.

"Yep." he nods, taking a seat at the opposite end.

"That's your drink now?"

"It is. I had a change of taste." he tells me proudly as he takes a sip.

"Good," I shrug. "Vodka and lime was never that great anyway."

He lets out a small laugh before placing his glass down on the table. "I hope you're not still a lightweight."

"Oh, I am." I chuckle. "I usually drink vodka and mixer, this is the hard stuff."

It falls silent for a second. It's obvious that he's just gotten out of a shower, his hair is damp and messy and his shirt is clinging to him. I pry my eyes from the tattoo on his arm, unable to look at it. We stay silent before the sound of Mason's phone ringing breaks the tension. "Hello?" he answers.

"Tutta fa brodo, fratello,"... "Ma anche no!"

I tilt my head as I listen to their conversation, totally useless. I understood two or three of the words, but not enough to grasp what they're discussing. Whatever it is, it sounds heated.

"Ciao, cazzo." he chuckles.

"Who was that?" I ask. I scrunch up my nose as the question leaves my lips, thats none of my business.

"My brother." he sighs.

I cough, choking on the whisky in my mouth. "Your what?"

"My brother," he chuckles. "I've been finding out a lot of new, life-shattering information recently."

"I'm sorry." I furrow my brow, feeling a wave of guilt come over me.

"No, I was joking," he sighs. "I found out about him in Italy—it's a long and complicated story, but we became pretty close; he's the reason I got home, really."

"Wow." I nod, still shocked at the news. A brother? Another Mason? And one that Mason likes at that?

"Anyway, how are you?" he asks, his brow furrowing worriedly. "And I mean how are you really, no bullshit."

"Elijah and I broke up," I tell him, feeling my chest tighten with the words. The look of shock on his face only makes it worse. "I'm sad, I'm really sad."

"I'm sorry." he mutters, his eyes locked with mine. I can tell he means it, despite whatever he had against us—and it means a lot to me.

"I feel empty," I admit, breaking eye contact. "He made me happy, most of the time. I'm scared I lost him for good—even our friendship."