AMELIA

Our walk back to the car was rather awkward for me.

After signing my discharge papers and footing the necessary bills, Roman never let go of my hand, despite the shocked looks on everyone’s faces.

We bade them goodbye and then he let go once we were in at the parking lot and out of sight.

I opened the front door and sat right next to the driver seat, surprisingly he didn’t call a driver but instead brought out the key and started the vehicle.

He was so quiet that it unnerved me and I began to wonder what I could say to start a conversation.

His expression was dark, most of the emotions in his eyes were indecipherable and I felt too sick to even try and understand the man.

But still.

The memory of the warmth of his strong, callused fingers still lingered.

And I found my gaze drifting in his direction a few times.

“I…” I cleared my throat, looking away and watched the passing city lights, “I am sorry about kissing you,” I apologized, my cheeks heated up from saying the