Epilogue 5

Deviant — Epilogue 5

“When will you be back? You know that if anything happens to an OJT trainee, it’s my responsibility.”

Do I really have to come back tonight? I just want to stay with André.

Miran swallowed the truth rising to the tip of her tongue.

“I should be able to return to the hotel by nine or ten at the latest.”

The manager narrowed her eyes, studying Miran with doubt before letting out a small sigh and nodding.

“Don’t cause any trouble. And don’t forget to call my room to report when you’re back. If I’m asleep and don’t answer, leave a message on the machine.”

The stern warning from her supervisor made Miran’s shoulders droop.

She felt a pang of regret that her time with André would be shorter than she’d hoped, but she wasn’t here on vacation. There was no helping it.

“Understood. Thank you, ma’am!”

—

Miran changed clothes in a rush and slipped out of the hotel. Standing at the entrance, she called André. He picked up the moment the first ring sounded.

“André! Where are you?”

― In front of the hotel.

She looked around.

A familiar Rolls-Royce was parked just off to the side of the entrance. The rear window lowered at a teasingly slow pace. Neatly combed brown hair appeared first, then a smooth forehead, dark brows, a patrician nose, and sensuous lips.

A radiant smile spread across Miran’s face.

After ending the call, André stepped out of the car. The firm line of his mouth slackened, the faintest hint of a smile tugging upward. A gentle warmth settled in his cool green eyes.

Miran ran toward him. Just before she could fling herself into his arms, she caught herself and braked hard, stopping right in front of him.

He raised one eyebrow as he looked down at her.

She darted a quick glance around them. Only after confirming no familiar faces were nearby did she finally fling her arms around him.

“I missed you!”

Miran buried her face in his chest for a moment before pulling back and gripping his suit lapel. Like a thieving cat checking for danger, she glanced around once more, then rose on tiptoe and stole a quick kiss. Before he could catch her, she scrambled into the back seat in a panic.

Still standing by the open door, blindsided by both the hug and kiss, André let out a low, breathy laugh.

He heard her greet Enzo next. Even though they barely understood each other linguistically, she sounded like she was meeting an old friend.

Heat bloomed in his chest. After the two months without her, his half-frozen heart seemed to melt inward from the center.

He climbed into the back seat and gave Enzo an instruction.

“To City Hall.”

At the same time, he pulled her to him and pressed their lips together.

Startled, Miran squirmed for a moment before closing her eyes and wrapping her arms around his neck.

The kiss plunged deep without giving her a chance to breathe. As if terrified she would evaporate like a mirage the moment he let go, he tangled his tongue with hers and mapped every corner of her mouth, desperate and aching.

Leaning back against the seat, Miran’s body gradually tilted downward under the force of him pressing in. A muffled whimper escaped her throat only to be swallowed by his mouth. Her heartbeat pounded against her chest. They gasped in a single shared breath.

At last, as if unbinding her, he reluctantly pulled away and loosened his hold. He rested his forehead against her neck while catching his breath, then slowly straightened, lifting her upright with him.

She let out a small, breathy laugh.

Just like before, red lipstick had smudged across his lips.

“André, your lips… the lipstick…”

Without looking away from her, he rubbed his thumb across his mouth. Miran watched him, spellbound, unable to breathe.

Half-lidded eyes lowered to the red stain on his finger, he gave a quiet, amused chuckle.

Miran reached out carefully and wiped the remaining lipstick from André’s lips. He did the same, brushing away the smudged lipstick at the corner of her mouth. His touch was so gentle it made her chest tighten.

That small but tender gesture nudged open a corner of her heart she’d been holding shut for months.

Her lips trembled. Then her face crumpled all at once, and tears spilled from her reddened eyes.

“Huup…”

Afraid Enzo might misunderstand, she tried to cry quietly, glancing around nervously. André pulled her into his arms and stroked her head with one large hand.

She clutched the lapel of his suit, her shoulders shaking.

Long-distance love wasn’t easy.

No matter how often they talked, no matter that they saw each other every couple of months, there was always an ache that wouldn’t disappear and a strange anxiety that hovered over her like a low, heavy cloud.

“Why are you crying.”

His gentle, coaxing voice loosened everything she had been trying so hard to hold in.

Like a child tattling about someone who wronged her, she poured out everything she couldn’t even bring herself to tell Juran.

“It was so… sniff… hard. I only slept two or three hours a night, and… huu… I had to retake a test, and I kept getting scolded, and… if I want to come see you, I have to be a flight attendant, but I was so scared I might fail, huuh…”

As she rambled through her sobs, André rubbed her back and let out a heavy breath.

Conflicted emotions stirred inside him.

He was grateful she had worked so hard just to be able to come see him. He was proud she had achieved what she set out to do.

But from his perspective, it would have been far better for her to travel freely on a tourist visa and come visit him, instead of sneaking in moments together during layovers as part of her crew duties.

He could always buy her the ticket, after all.

‘Though she’d probably refuse both options.’

He exhaled quietly.

Miran didn’t seem fully aware that she was about to become part of the Lafayette family. Which meant she would have equal claim to everything he possessed.

She’ll grow used to it in time.

He wiped the tears from her cheeks and kissed the flushed spots on her face.

“You did well.”

At those few words, Miran burst into fresh tears while smiling with pride. The sight was unbearably endearing, and he pulled her into a fierce embrace.

By the time they left City Hall with the marriage license, it was already five in the afternoon. They decided to have an early dinner at a restaurant near Columbus Circle and then stop by André’s apartment to rest for a bit.

The moment they stepped outside the building, Miran hunched her shoulders tightly. Her teeth chattered. The trench coat she had packed with Korean spring in mind was far too thin for New York’s harsh late winter winds. André immediately shrugged off his own coat and draped it over her shoulders.

Her stomach had also been hurting since earlier. She rarely had digestion issues, but maybe the rushed, nervous meal of airplane food hadn’t sat well.

Fortunately, André’s car was parked nearby. She let out a weak groan as she climbed into the back seat and then covered her mouth as she yawned widely.

For the past three months, she had lived like a student preparing for college entrance exams. Whether because she’d pushed herself too hard, trusting her usually sturdy body, or because her tension was finally unraveling, her head felt heavy and her limbs were limp under the accumulated fatigue.

Am I coming down with something?

Miran shook her head vigorously, as if trying to stay awake.

She had worked so hard to finally come see André. She couldn’t afford to be sick now. Even if she was sick, she had to hold out until she flew back to Korea.

“Your complexion is pale.”

André cupped her cheek with one hand. His tone was dry, but his touch impossibly gentle.

Pressing her cheek into his palm, she forced her drooping eyes to stay open.

“I’m fine……”

André studied her with a complicated expression before silently reaching out and pulling her into his arms. She leaned her head against his broad shoulder, half-cradled, and the moment she did, her eyelids grew unbearably heavy.

—

Miran was sitting across from André in his study, watching him work.

Rustle, rustle.

The sound of him turning papers echoed pleasantly in her ears. Then suddenly, she opened her eyes.

In the dim light, she saw the walnut-wood tray table attached to the seatback in front of her. On it lay a thick stack of documents, and atop those papers was an expensive-looking fountain pen.

A large hand suddenly reached out, picked up the pen, and scribbled something across the page. The polished platinum cufflinks on his French cuffs reflected a soft gleam. The scratch of the fountain pen was strangely familiar.

Where am I?

Blinking blankly, Miran flinched when a car horn blared outside.

“You’re awake?”