The soft morning breeze kissed Jobal Naberrie's face as she watched as the sun dragged itself from slumber to paint the sky a glorious harmony of oranges, reds and pinks. She breathed the cool air deeply, filling her lungs to bursting before breathing out again. A wonderous beginning to a brand new day. She loved this time, a fresh start, a blank canvas yet to be filled. So much potential…
The serene lake waters shimmered as they lazily rode the slight wind, appearing all too tempting for a woman of her age. It would be unbecoming to slip out of her dress and jump in – but oh just a handful of years ago, Jobal would have done just that without hesitation. Now her bones ached at the mere thought of the water's coldness. How time altered life without notice until the change was complete…
She breathed in again, wishing she had made some tea to carry out with her, and cast her gaze to the left, where her husband tinkered with the vibrant blossoms potted across the veranda's smooth edges. Ruwee had been mumbling about seeing to the task of re-potting each plant for weeks without any true motivation to complete the task. But these last five days he had been more occupied around the house than Jobal had seen him for years.
From locking himself in the garage to repair their lake-cruiser to repainting the dining room walls, Ruwee had seemingly gotten the house in tip-top shape all of a sudden. Anything which kept his hands occupied and offered an excuse to avoid the beloved guest in her old bedroom. Jobal sighed, glancing at the house over her shoulder. She had only seen Padme in passing these past two days and hadn't spent any real time with her daughter since their talk in the kitchen several days ago.
Something about her youngest child had changed since that discussion. In the few moments they passed by one another before Padme slipped out of the house, Jobal's heart had sung to see her daughter smiling again. The light had returned to her wounded eyes. These first true steps toward recovery and forgiveness, however they'd been taken, were a much-welcomed breath of fresh air. She'd been so afraid her clever girl was collapsing in on herself, growing hardened and bitter the longer this dragged on.
Jobal had plenty of reasons to worry about Padme throughout the years. Instead of following the well-mapped path she had lived, running a household and raising children, the very path Sola would give anything to walk, Padme had chosen to follow her ambition as far as it would take her. Now an esteemed and outspoken Senator of the Imperial Senate, overseeing the political needs of not only Naboo but also the entire Chomell Sector, her daughter had become a wildly famous woman who rubbed shoulders with the galaxy's most elite. It also meant her precious girl made more enemies than Jobal could bear to think about. She shuddered to imagine the dangers her career welcomed into her fast-paced life.
Finally meeting the person responsible for the mysterious smiles shining on her daughter's beautiful face was a gift any mother would be thrilled to receive. The few meetings they'd had with Anakin – albeit mostly across the confines of comm-links and holograms were a glimpse of a kind, affectionate young man with the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders. Jobal was so excited, so thrilled and proud of her daughter – attracting such a good, handsome man was exciting in any case but an Imperial Prince to boot?
She laughed softly into the cool morning air. An Imperial Prince who seemed to prefer the call of war over the throne. She'd never wanted a soldier for either of her daughters, but that sweet boy… Jobal's heart sang with warmth for Anakin. So effortlessly charming, so boyish and proud and so… painfully in love with Padme. He was good for her. Kind. Respectful. She hoped he made her daughter see that not everything in life was meant to be prim and serious.
She also hoped this love might finally open Padme's eyes to the prospect of settling down. Starting her own family and choosing a calm, peaceful existence. Let the follies of the galaxy be faced by others for a change, she had overpaid her dues tenfold by now.
But pride was the enemy of all things in life. Like any infection, it seeped into open wounds and spread its poison unless faced head-on and dealt with. Jobal knew her daughter very well. Padme was as prideful as they came. Perhaps even more so. It seemed the lovers shared this trait. She could push and prod at them all she liked but the decisions would be made by them alone.
Jobal just hoped the dark twins of pride and grief didn't lead them down a path where they could no longer follow each other.
She truly, deeply, did.
A warm breeze danced softly through the morning air, brushing dark tendrils of hair up and around Padme's face. The sand beneath her knees was soft and pliant and she sunk a little lower, shifting to lounge more comfortably. Dorme would positively shriek if she could see the expensive, custom-designed silk dress so close to the lake's cool embrace, risking the soft, white garment's utter ruin, but to face this, she wanted to be comfortable.
Whatever came of today, whether profuse heartbreak or the peace of closure and acceptance awaited her, Padme was ready to face this next stage of her life. To accept and honour the choices that led her to this moment. The Senator breathed a lungful of fresh, clean air and traced her fingers along the newly planted cluster of purple-and-white flowers. The delicate petals slid along gentle fingers and her heart gave a painful throb.
There weren't many native plants or flowers which could thrive in the harsh conditions the sand offered, especially on Naboo with its rich soil and abundant fields. It would have been easier to pick something and somewhere else, her family owned a sprawling garden boasting nearly every kind of bloom and shrub her homeworld offered, but this wasn't supposed to be easy. Padme never craved an unchallenging existence.
She was willing to bet her boy would have been the same.
A merciless wave of agony splintered through her body
, followed by a mass of what ifs tearing across her mind, the who's and what's and could have been's flashing before her eyes for a torturous moment. Her boy, Luis… He should have been so much more, her everything, her very galaxy, but he was gone. Ripped away before they could even meet. Before she could know what he would like, what he would love or hate, or what would make him laugh or cry.
For the few people around her who knew what happened, his very existence would fade away, becoming a distant, unpleasant memory rarely visited. But Padme felt the mark he left on her heart, the deep, scar that would throb and sting now and then but healed enough to no longer torment her every waking hour. Lifting her eyes, she looked out toward the mountains on the horizon, considering.
Everything had changed. One way or another, nearly every aspect of her life had shifted and been reshaped around her until Padme nearly didn't recognise it at all. Everything save for her, who she truly was, in her heart. That stayed the same. Maybe it all would be easier to live with if she locked away the truths of herself and her feelings and embraced structure and temptation instead.
Maybe she might even be happy? Maybe she might not care so much and things would be better.
But Padme Amidala Naberrie was who she was, much to her parents' occasional chagrin and her sister's unending amusement. She turned her gaze back to the sweet, bright plant and smiled. In those moments before everything turned to smoke and ash, she imagined bringing the baby here as he got bigger. Imagined playing on the sand, swimming, chasing and laughing as if the rest of the galaxy simply didn't exist.
Where better to plant his memorial?
It was peaceful here. Quiet. Mere steps from the sloping, sandstone steps leading into her family home. This is where her boy belonged, where Padme was going to remember him and love him and think only of the joy he brought her, not of how fleeting it was.
She didn't know what time it was. Or whether she'd been out here waiting for minutes or hours when soft, unhurried footsteps sounded against the sand. Her stomach tightened. Back straightening as the very breath in her throat fled. Her late-night invitation made her heart thunder more nervously than any speech in the Senate ever had. The incredible risk of rejection made her eyes sting as she forced herself to stare at the sand instead of looking over her shoulder. Trembling hands curled into fists, gripping the soft grains until they all slipped free between her fingers.
There was only one way she could move on with her life and find the happiness she wanted so badly.
She focused on the soft sound of lapping water from the lake shore, forcing her chest to rise and fall in time with each gentle draw of water. Somewhere above, birds cried out. Their songs echoing sweetly between flapping wings and soft, pillowy clouds. Padme let herself glance up, one last momentary distraction while she gathered her nerves.
"You came," she whispered as those footsteps stilled beside her.
Good manners would have her thank him for his attendance. Her mother would be mortified by the lack of decorum but Padme couldn't find the will to open her drying mouth again. There were long hours worth of words she had to say to him, days and days of thoughts and feelings bundled up into complex, impossible knots that she was finally ready to attempt undoing. But how to start? There was such anger. Such disappointment and bitterness – had she finally discovered a mountain too high to be conquered?
Well, she never had been a quitter before and Padme wasn't about to begin now.
Her hands pulled free of the soft warmth the sand provided and set her shoulders. Her lips pried apart, still unsure of what exactly she was going to say –
"You commed," he said simply, as if her invitation had no alternative choice to acceptance. Her heart gave another painful throb as she found the nerve to twist her neck and look up at the presence towering above her. So tall, he blocked the sunlight and stood as a shadow before her. Draped in several layers of black, the familiarity was a small comfort from the smooth, lethal calm painted across his expression.
Worse were the bruises branded across his face, spreading splotches of purple and blue across tanned skin. Padme felt her breath catch at the ring of purple surrounding his left eye, still swollen and painful. What the hell had happened while she'd been hiding away at home? No part of him seemed to have been spared. His neck, his lips, his hands – gods, the deep bacta-bandages wrapped tightly around his hands were enough to make her stomach churn.
"Anakin…" her voice caught in her throat, "I – I – what happened to you?"
Her mind already hissed the answer, spitting poison and blame like a spike-tongued serpent. Of course, she knew what was about to happen the moment he stormed away from her after telling him about Vader. And she left anyway. Without trying to stop it or waiting to make sure he was alright afterwards…
Forgiveness… Jobal's gentle voice rang in her ears. You must learn to forgive yourself first.
She had acted badly. Immaturely. Selfishly… but she was out of her mind with grief and loneliness. Perhaps not a good enough excuse for most to accept… but Padme accepted it. For herself, for her sanity and mental well-being… she could forgive herself. The realisation left the Senator breathless. Tears sprung into her eyes as a great weight shifted off her shoulders, freeing her of its unbearable burden.
She was free.
"I confronted Vader," Anakin admitted after a few moments, shrugging his thick, black cloak off his shoulders and draping it across the sand. She watched him settle atop it, perching carefully to avoid touching the beach as much as possible. And despite everything she felt, a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. Some things never changed. "And then I got drunk," he shrugged, "and landed with a very expensive bill."
The whole galaxy knew of the deep bonds of brotherhood between their Princes and how close and affectionate they were with each other, but almost no one knew the costs Anakin and Vader had paid for their relationship. The cruelty the Emperor inflicted upon them as children. The laws that were enacted to control and isolate the brothers from everyone but each other. They were more than brothers, Vader and Anakin had always been best friends and partners above all else.
And now they were fighting. Beating each other like rabid, uncontrollable animals… because of her. Padme couldn't stand it. Her heart wept to imagine how it would feel if someone came between her and Sola one day. Could she ever find it in her heart to forgive that person for the damage they inflicted? She hated that she wasn't sure of her answer.
"I want to ask what the hell you were thinking," she also wanted to reach out and trace her fingers over every scrape and bruise painting his skin, but her hands remained limp by her sides. She lost the right to touch him. "But I don't imagine you were doing much of that." When he remained quiet, she shrugged. "I know I wasn't thinking very much either."
She didn't know what else to say, so she remained quiet.
Eventually, as the lake continued to envelop and release the shoreline and the birds sang and flew, Padme returned her gaze to the beautiful little flowers beside them. "I planted these for our boy…" she whispered, the words almost lost beneath the ripple and curl of the water. "To remember him. It's peaceful here. Quiet." Her throat threatened to swell closed, choking her words, "I think he would have… I wanted you to see it."
Even if Anakin didn't want a child, he was still Luis' father. He deserved to come here with her and… maybe not mourn but reflect. She couldn't expect him to grieve the loss of something he never wanted for himself to begin with, but Padme still wanted him here anyway. It felt right. His cut and bruised hand brushed hers where it lay on the sand in silent comfort, but his face… hard as stone. Expressionless.
"That was kind of you," he muttered, withdrawing his hand. Her skin tingled and yearned for more, mourning the loss of Anakin and his warmth. "It's beautiful – perfect even." He declared, "I like to think I'll come here to think about him whenever I can." His eyes were shadowed as if his mind were words away. Padme watched his other, equally battered, hand curl into a tight fist of sand, squeezing harshly until almost every grain slipped free again.
Frowning at the sweet blossom, her brain worked to register his words. He would like to come here to visit this small, special place? But why? The baby, Luis, was something thrust upon him, something she longed for alone. Why would Anakin need to – or even want to – come here? He was free of his obligations now. If he would like, he could move on and forget that any of this had ever happened.
Was that what he wanted? Padme's head reeled, spinning in a thousand directions at once. Her eyes began to burn. Why was he doing this? Why did he have to confuse her all over again? Hadn't he had enough of blowing hot and cold with her?
"I brought something," Anakin said just as her mouth opened, "I – I wasn't sure what to do with it… I thought maybe you would want to keep it…" his throat bobbed as he shoved one bandaged hand into a pocket of the cloak beneath him. Padme heaved a jagged breath as the small, stuffed shaak toy she'd picked out from the cradle store withdrew from the dark insides of the cloak.
She was frozen, every limb turned to immovable rock as her eyes traced every stitch and detail of the little toy. She'd forgotten all about it after everything. When Anakin told her he'd gotten rid of the cradle, she supposed the toy went with it. But it was here. He kept it. Her heart was wild in her chest. He held onto their child's toy and kept it safe, even after everything that happened.
"Anakin…" She breathed, just barely making out the tall, sloping shape of him through the watery veil shrouding her vision. Her trembling fingers reached out for the stuffed toy and he let her take it. It was so light and fragile in her hand, so soft and delicate. Would he have hugged it closely every night? Depend on its presence to feel safe enough to fall asleep? She liked to think this would have been his favourite of the many, many toys filling his room.
The little shaak still smelled like the floral fragrance of the cradle shop when Padme brought it to her nose. Gods, she would give anything to know what it would smell like if his companion had the chance to be here. "This was…" her throat closed over and she shook her head. "Thank you, Anakin."
"I think it should stay here," his long fingers traced a delicate line in the sand beside the blossom she planted. "He can look after things for us when we can't be here."
"I like that," she said softly, "No, I love that idea…" Padme gently deposited the toy onto the sand beside the flowers. He sat in place proudly, overlooking the lake and mountainous horizon.
"Maybe I can build something before I leave?" Anakin offered gently, "A little shelter to keep everything dry and safe."
The world spun and danced in her vision and something wounded and primal inside her longed to get up and run away before it was whipped and lashed yet again. No. No more running or hiding or biting back her questions. Even if her heart wept, Padme wanted to hear what he had to say. "You would do that? Why?"
Anakin held her gaze for a long moment and then he looked down, his throat bobbing again and Padme watched him, waiting for him to gather himself. "I'm ashamed of myself," he said quietly, "I didn't treat you as I should have. I – I wasn't the man you needed me to be." He shook his head, eyes shuttering. "There won't be a day for the rest of my life that I don't regret my behaviour. I was selfish and immature and… and… I want you to know… I need you to know how sorry I am, Padme."
Tears lined his vivid blue eyes and he tried blinking them away furiously but the emotion was unyielding, more replacing what Anakin tried to hide as soon as he cleared his eyes. So unending that she wondered for a moment if his very heart was bleeding out before her eyes. She listened to every word he said and didn't bother to brush away the tears slowly sliding down her cheeks.
"I wanted him…" Anakin admitted so quietly, she half-wondered if the confession was meant for himself alone. She watched his palm lay flat on the sand before tightening his grip once again. "I meant my promise to you the day I left for Crait. Everything was going to be different when I got back. I was going to be the man you needed me to be. I wanted him. I… I loved him… but I was too late and…" his voice strained to a whisper. "I was too late… He didn't get to know that I loved him."
A small, broken sound ripped from her lips. It was everything she longed and ached to hear right after losing the baby, all the exact right words that would have helped ease the blazing agony tearing through her heart and he was saying them now. How long did he feel like this? She burned to know the exact moment his mind changed and his heart opened to their child. But did it really even matter anymore? There was no baby anymore.
But that didn't mean everything else had to burn to ash, did it?
He was correct. He did behave abhorrently. Had acted immaturely and cruelly. He had hurt her worse than any other person in the galaxy had ever been capable of doing… but Padme couldn't let that corrode her heart until the poison killed all the love she felt. She wouldn't. All of Jobal's words these past few days resounded inside her mind yet again. Forgiveness was a choice and so was loving someone.
That didn't always mean it was an easy choice to make.
"Thank you, Anakin. I… It means so much to me to hear you say that." she whispered, outstretching her hand. He considered the offering and for a moment Padme thought he would refuse her outright. She thought he would get up and walk away again. But he slid his bruised, injured hand into hers and squeezed gently.
Together, in silence, they looked at that little bow-tie-wearing bantha and the small, precious blossom he protected.
Mid-morning was shifting to afternoon sunlight by the time they walked back inside her parents' house trapped in a kind of tense silence they hadn't endured in a long time. The unsettling quiet of the Naberrie household promised privacy as it meant her mother had likely dragged her father out of the house the moment she spied Anakin's ship docking outside. Despite that, Padme found herself wandering back to her childhood bedroom by habit alone, as if the family pictures on the walls might spy and report back on what they overheard.
Where her mother was involved, the scenario wouldn't surprise her.
Anakin shifted uncomfortably around her bedroom, cloak folded neatly and slung over his forearm, for a few moments as Padme picked up a deep blue robe and hauled the thick, cosy material over her shoulders. She watched his eyes roam her school prizes gleaming proudly on shelves, the moving holo-pics of her teenaged self on various worlds for charitable volunteering purposes and across titles of books she collected throughout the years. He'd never been here before, it occurred to her. Despite her excitement to do so, they never did have the chance to visit her childhood home together.
She didn't know what to say. Her mouth went dry as the silence dragged on heavily, more pressing and uncomfortable with every passing second.
A stream of sunlight beamed through the sliver of open curtain Padme left drawn that morning and, to make matters worse, landed upon the Empress Shmi's crown where it lay proudly upon her dresser. An array of small rainbows cascaded from the gleaming rubies and across the bedroom. One shone upon Anakin's cheek as he glanced over his shoulder, keen eyes following the light.
Anakin tensed, eyes widening when they landed upon Vader's gift but his chin only lifted higher. Even now his brother was a ghost in the room. An unyielding chasm between them. The future Emperor's offer glinted proudly in the sunlight, outstretching an invisible hand which balanced the weight of a galaxy ripe for her taking. Everything the brother before had been denied since childhood, since the cruel battle between twins had ensured Vader was the crowned heir.
"He sent our mother's crown to you?" Anakin, brooding and snarly, demanded.
What else was there to say but the truth? Didn't he deserve that at least?
"Yes," Padme couldn't bear to meet his insistent gaze. She flinched as he hissed a vile curse beneath his breath. Perhaps it was her turn to reflect now? To look back upon her own behaviour and question her actions. The past could never be changed… but that didn't mean she didn't have to apologise for the hurt she caused. "Anakin… I… I didn't get a chance to tell you… to say how sorry I am." Her throat tightened to the point of pain. Agony, really. "I was… I was out of my mind. I wasn't thinking about anything or anyone else." Her face crumpled and a small, broken noise squeezed past her lips. "I never ever wanted to hurt you. And I'm so, so sorry…"
Despite her tears, Padme studied his face in the answering quiet, noting how hard he worked to keep his expression neutral, how he kept his gaze fixated anywhere except for her. How his eyes returned again and again to his mother's crown as it shone and glimmered. She tried to imagine, for a moment, how she would feel in Anakin's position. If she came home and found out he turned to her sister in his grief. If Sola welcomed him with open arms into her bed, allowing his hands to worship her body the way Vader had… Nausea coiled in her belly.
Was there even a combination of words in existence to make him see how sorry she was?
"Anakin – "
"Are you going to marry him?" The unreadable mask slipped back over his handsome face but there was nothing that could hide the silent fury which stormed in his eyes. The question was simple but carried an unstoppable wave of pure, overwhelming emotion, prepared to batter her like the rock in the ocean until she chipped and fractured. Yes or no? His eyes finally met hers as he waited and Padme forgot how to breathe.
It should have been straightforward, she should have made up her mind by now and understood what she desired. But standing before the man she still loved, the man who loved her more than anyone else ever had, Padme realised there was no answer on her tongue. She didn't know what to say.
Vader offered her everything she ever wanted. A loyal husband. A family of her own. A crown. Padme could make true changes in the galaxy, the kind she had strived for her whole career to accomplish! She would be an Empress. The Empress. Mother of future Emperors or Empresses' to come. Vader claimed to understand her heart would take time to heal and come to him, he said he was willing and patient enough to wait.
But was she? Could she marry someone she didn't love? Padme knew, to her bones, to her shame, that she did feel something for the dark-haired Skywalker Prince. She couldn't deny how her heart raced whenever Vader was around or the heat that pooled low in her stomach when they were close. Even now that dark desire purred within her as she remembered the scorching heat of Vader's kisses. The pure pleasure of his hands and mouth. Everything he made her feel that day was still so raw that her body tingled.
But none of that was love.
None of that was struck through trust, friendship and devotion. Yes, Vader could offer her an entire galaxy but Anakin knew her and he loved her for the woman she was beyond her work and titles. Her family liked him. And he had changed for her, grown up and become a better man. They had so many memories together, so many plans and desires for the lives they had wanted to live by each other's sides.
Her heart bled. No matter what she decided, Padme was going to lose one of them. If she accepted Vader's proposal, she would likely never see Anakin again. He would never forgive either of them for their betrayal. The man she loved would become a distant, painful memory for her and Vader. A wound she felt utterly breathless just to imagine. He would take part of her heart with him wherever he went.
But if she and Anakin chose to forge ahead together, Vader would be hurt. He might withdraw from their lives completely or Anakin may demand she never see his brother again. Could she stand that? The loss of Vader's sly smile, his sharp wit and secret, gentle nature? He had become a trusted confidant, one of the people she trusted most in the galaxy. She… she… she didn't have the words for her feelings.
She had come between them. Padme hated that she severed the intimate, brotherly bond Anakin and Vader cherished so much. Was it possible for siblings to overcome something like this? Fresh tears welled in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. A small, cowardly part of the Senator wished she never went to Anakin's rooms the night of the Hedsard party. She wished she let him shut her out and just moved on. Then none of this would have ever happened.
Vader and Anakin would be happy and free of her.
Her wet gaze cut to the Emperess' crown on her dresser again. It felt so exciting to lay it on her head and look at her reflection in the mirror. To imagine what a life where it truly belonged to her might look like. The things she could do… But that beautiful crown didn't belong to her. Neither did that life. Padme was never meant to be an Empress, she hadn't ever been that ambitious. All her life she only ever wanted to bring good to the galaxy and build a happy life for herself while doing so.
Her eyes finally returned to Anakin's. He waited for her answer patiently, neither pushing her nor taking her silence as an answer. He waited and waited as Padme's tears dried and her racing heart calmed in the cage of her ribs.
"No," she shook her head, "I'm not going to marry Vader. I'm not going to be his Empress… but I want to be your wife."
Padme waited for his furious laughter. For outright refusal and the cold shutdown of all her hope.
But Anakin only asked, eyes narrowing, "Why?"
"I know you must be angry with me… Furious even…" She dared a half-step closer, "I understand that maybe it seems impossible to truly forgive me for what happened that day, that it might take years or decades even. But I want you to know that I'll wait. That I'm happy to."
He only shook his head, knotting his brows. Padme read the utter confusion on his face like any bill or legislative amendment. His slip-up threatened to break her heart all over again. Had he really been so sure she would accept Vader over him?
"I love you, Anakin…" She declared, "I love you despite and because of the difficult choices and brutal mistakes we have both made." They both had acted out of anger and fury, frightening and breaking one another without truly intending to but that didn't mean they had to walk away from each other. It didn't mean there wasn't any hope. There was always hope, always light in the darkness if one chose to see it.
Now, finally, Padme was ready to see it.
"I don't expect our lives to get any easier going forward," her lips managed to turn up into a small, resigned smile, "quite the opposite, in fact. But this time has made me understand something I didn't before… Loving someone is a choice. You choose to love someone through the bad days as much as the good, because of and despite their flaws. I want us to choose each other, Ani. To choose to commit to and love one another, no matter what hurdles the galaxy may throw in our paths."
"You make it sound so easy," Anakin gave a sardonic smile, glancing down at his boots.
"No, it isn't," Padme shook her head, drifting closer, closer, close enough to lay her hand on his shoulder. "It's… difficult. Nearly impossible, really. What's lost can never be replaced but we can heal. I see you, Anakin, I know who you are… and I love you. I choose you for all the days of my life, however long. I'll choose you every single day and when the gods, or the force, claim us once more, I'll choose you there too."
Anakin's gaze drifted toward his mother's crown once more, lingering for only a moment before those burning, molten eyes slid back to her. Whatever he read in Padme's own eyes snapped the tether he'd kept on himself so far. She had time only for a stifled, half-gasp before his mouth angled over her own. It wasn't a sweet, gentle kiss. And it certainly wasn't the timid reunion of unsure lovers.
It was claiming, wild and frenzied. Padme moaned as he unleashed himself upon her. Gods help her, she thought they'd never have this again, that everything was ruined beyond repair. But he was here.
How she missed the taste of him, the heat of him… the unrelenting, demanding stroke of Anakin's tongue against her own. Her hands slid up into his soft, sandy curls, tugging him closer as she answered his every kiss with her own. Breathless and lungs aching, she just couldn't get enough.
Her heart lurched and thrilled. Her body purred.
She was home.