Epilogue
"A physicist..." he began, ignoring the elbow to his ribs from the woman who sat nestled in his arms, "sees the night sky and thinks about the distances between celestial bodies or the chemical composition of stars or even that the light we see is just a reflection of a mass long dead." Her head was on his shoulder, and he could smell the clean scent of her shampoo. He pressed a kiss to her temple and tightened his arms around her waist. They had driven an hour out of the city, far enough so that the incessant lights of the Strip no longer obscured the broad expanse of night sky. He was propped against a rock, cradling Sara's body against his own as they huddled in the blanket he had brought from the SUV. "What a physicist—or scientist," he added hastily, trying to avoid her elbow again, "neglects to see is the simple beauty of the night sky, light glittering against the backdrop of the immensity of space, the connectedness of it all, stars to the smallest grain of sand. It's beautiful, just... beautiful."
"Since when are you interested in beauty?" Her voice was low and husky, almost a purr in her throat. Of all the many scenarios she had imagined in her mind, the reality of being snuggled in Gil's arms looking at the desert sky was immeasurably better.
"Since I met you." He chuckled, his breath warm against Sara's forehead.
"What?"
"I rehearsed that line about a million times for a year and a half," he admitted ruefully. His eyes roamed the night sky, hoping the inspiration would help him find the right words. "It was meant to be a confession of love, of sorts," he added. "A way to tell you about everything you gave me, including the ability to see beauty in the world. I was probably rehearsing it in my head when you stormed into my office that night, and then stormed out of my life, and I never got a chance to say it."
Sara's voice was quiet. "Until now." She laughed a little, under her breath, her body shaking against his chest. "You should have known I'd come back." Her glance read his upraised eyebrow, and she laughed again. "Physics," she said as if that explained everything, and she squirmed back against body, seeking perhaps a more comfortable spot or just simply to be closer. "Gravity. Gravitational pull. A certain attraction that exists between bodies."
He chuckled again. "I'm pretty sure gravity only exists between heavenly bodies."
"Exactly." Her voice was smug, and he was sure if he could see her face, he would see that happy, self-satisfied smile pulling the corners of her mouth, and he laughed quietly, kissing the top of her head.
"A physics of love?"
"Like a science of beauty."
Fin
"A physicist..." he began, ignoring the elbow to his ribs from the woman who sat nestled in his arms, "sees the night sky and thinks about the distances between celestial bodies or the chemical composition of stars or even that the light we see is just a reflection of a mass long dead." Her head was on his shoulder, and he could smell the clean scent of her shampoo. He pressed a kiss to her temple and tightened his arms around her waist. They had driven an hour out of the city, far enough so that the incessant lights of the Strip no longer obscured the broad expanse of night sky. He was propped against a rock, cradling Sara's body against his own as they huddled in the blanket he had brought from the SUV. "What a physicist—or scientist," he added hastily, trying to avoid her elbow again, "neglects to see is the simple beauty of the night sky, light glittering against the backdrop of the immensity of space, the connectedness of it all, stars to the smallest grain of sand. It's beautiful, just... beautiful."
"Since when are you interested in beauty?" Her voice was low and husky, almost a purr in her throat. Of all the many scenarios she had imagined in her mind, the reality of being snuggled in Gil's arms looking at the desert sky was immeasurably better.
"Since I met you." He chuckled, his breath warm against Sara's forehead.
"What?"
"I rehearsed that line about a million times for a year and a half," he admitted ruefully. His eyes roamed the night sky, hoping the inspiration would help him find the right words. "It was meant to be a confession of love, of sorts," he added. "A way to tell you about everything you gave me, including the ability to see beauty in the world. I was probably rehearsing it in my head when you stormed into my office that night, and then stormed out of my life, and I never got a chance to say it."
Sara's voice was quiet. "Until now." She laughed a little, under her breath, her body shaking against his chest. "You should have known I'd come back." Her glance read his upraised eyebrow, and she laughed again. "Physics," she said as if that explained everything, and she squirmed back against body, seeking perhaps a more comfortable spot or just simply to be closer. "Gravity. Gravitational pull. A certain attraction that exists between bodies."
He chuckled again. "I'm pretty sure gravity only exists between heavenly bodies."
"Exactly." Her voice was smug, and he was sure if he could see her face, he would see that happy, self-satisfied smile pulling the corners of her mouth, and he laughed quietly, kissing the top of her head.
"A physics of love?"
"Like a science of beauty."
Fin