Twelve
"I love you."
The words just spill out of my mouth as I sit opposite Amelie in my dining area, and I instantly want to take them back: the expression on her face suggests to me that that was a mistake, that that will be the reason why she leaves here and never returns.
After a few seconds, however, and before I can say another word, Amelie speaks, moving her hand to rest on top of mine at the same time. "These are not words that I have spoken aloud in centuries, Sam, but…I love you, also. I believe that I couldn't live my life without you in it any longer; you have changed me, and the way that you have is yet to be made clear to me."
I blink, flabbergasted; this is something I never expected. I thought that once the words were out of my mouth, she would be on her feet, fabricating some reason why she needs to leave, as she has done every other time I have almost said the words.
Before I can say a word in response, my telephone rings, and she nods her head slowly, her eyes on the clock. "Answer it, Samuel—I must leave. I apologise for the suddenness of it, but I recall some work that I must complete."
Before I can say a word, she's moving, her lips pressing to my cheek for the briefest of moments, lighter than air, and then she's gone.
I dash to the phone to pick it up before it awakens my light sleeping son, and answer the call that changes my life forever.
If I had had a choice at this moment between going to the bar and being turned, or staying home and remaining human…I don't know what I would do.
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(as poor sam is unloved.)
