Chapter 295: Chapter Two Hundred and Ninety- Three - Strawberries

The aircraft began its slow deliberate movement along the runway, the motion so smooth it almost felt like drifting rather than traveling. Through the wide oval window beside her, Willow watched the private terminal slide past in quiet succession. The glass walls, the waiting vehicles, the figures growing smaller with distance. Somewhere beyond that polished calm Lorrlyne would already be settling Zana into the rhythm of an afternoon nap, the familiar routines of home resuming as if Willow and Zane had not stepped briefly outside of them.

The engines deepened into a steady powerful hum, and the aircraft gathered speed with quiet confidence before lifting cleanly into the air.

Within minutes the ground fell away beneath them. Atlanta spread outward in orderly lines and shifting grids, highways threading through clusters of buildings that shrank into patterns and color rather than places. The rivers became ribbons of dull silver. The neighborhoods softened into geometry. Distance erased detail until the city became something abstract and remote, a world they had already left behind.

The climb steadied into smooth forward motion, the engines settling into a constant tone that felt less like noise and more like a steady presence surrounding them. The cabin held that particular stillness that existed only at altitude, where movement became effortless and time seemed to stretch into something generous and unhurried.

Willow remained turned toward the window for a long moment, her reflection faintly layered over the pale sky beyond the glass. There was a looseness in her shoulders that had not existed a week ago, a quietness settling into her that felt earned rather than accidental.

When she finally turned back toward him, her expression carried a warmth that was softer than excitement and deeper than relief.

"This is already perfect."

Zane’s mouth curved slightly.

"Not yet."

Her eyes narrowed with softened suspicion.

"What did you do?"

Instead of answering, he rose and extended his hand toward her.

"Come see."

She placed her hand in his and let him guide her down the short passage toward the rear of the aircraft.

At the end of the corridor he opened a door.

The space beyond felt surprisingly private. Soft lighting washed the room in warm gold tones. A wide bed stood centered beneath the low ceiling dressed in pale linen that looked crisp and inviting. Cabinets lined the walls in polished wood whose warmth softened the clean geometry of the cabin, and a narrow window revealed nothing but open sky stretching endlessly beyond the glass.

For a moment Willow simply stood there.

"Zane."

"I thought we might want privacy."

A soft laugh escaped her.

"You are impossible."

He followed her inside and the door closed behind them with quiet finality.

His hands settled at her waist, drawing her closer with steady warmth.

"Possibly."

Her fingers slid into his hair and she pulled him down into a kiss that held none of the careful restraint of the night before. There was nothing measured about it now, nothing cautious or strategic. The privacy of the suite wrapped around them like a quiet promise, and the long hours of flight ahead felt less like travel and more like time that belonged only to them.

His hands moved slowly along her back, learning again what he already knew, as if the certainty of touch mattered more than urgency. The soft linen shifted beneath them while the steady vibration of the aircraft hummed through the walls and floor in a rhythm that felt strangely intimate, like a distant heartbeat carrying them forward through the sky.

The world outside the cabin disappeared completely. There was no schedule and no interruption waiting beyond the door. Only distance and the quiet certainty that for these hours no one could reach them.

Later, when the intensity softened into warmth and quiet closeness, a gentle knock came at the door. Zane rose without hurry and opened it just enough to speak quietly with the attendant before returning with a tray balanced easily in one hand.

Champagne rested in a chilled silver bucket beside two narrow glasses. A bowl of strawberries gleamed deep red against white porcelain, drops of cold moisture still clinging to their surface.

Willow propped herself against the pillows, watching him set the tray down with the same calm precision he brought to everything else.

Her mouth curved in amusement.

"Champagne and strawberries," she said softly. "That is outrageously predictable."

Zane glanced at her while pouring the champagne, the pale gold liquid rising slowly in the glass.

"You are right."

He handed her one of the glasses before picking up a strawberry between his fingers and studying it briefly with a thoughtful expression.

"Wait until you see what I plan to do with them."

Her laugh came warm and low.

"You are impossible."

"And you married me anyway."

She accepted the strawberry he held out to her and bit into it slowly, the sweetness sharp and bright after the dryness of champagne. He watched her with quiet concentration, the same steady attention that always made her feel seen in ways she did not fully understand.

She shook her head faintly.

"This is absurd."

"It is a honeymoon."

"It is a cliché."

"It is a good one."

She smiled and lifted the glass to her lips again.

He leaned closer, brushing a small drop of juice from the corner of her mouth with his thumb before kissing her softly, the gesture slow and unhurried, the kind of touch that carried no urgency because time belonged entirely to them.

The long flight stretched ahead without interruption or obligation. There was nowhere to be except exactly where they were.

Eventually she lay curled against him beneath the smooth linen, her head resting comfortably against his chest while one of his hands moved in quiet patterns along her back. The steady vibration of the aircraft surrounded them in a rhythm that felt almost like a pulse, constant and reassuring.

Beyond the window the sky stretched pale and endless above distant clouds drifting far below.

Sleep came gently, settling over her without resistance.

When she woke the light had changed.

The warm brightness of afternoon had softened into gold, filling the cabin with a quieter glow that made the polished wood and pale linen seem warmer and more real.

Zane brushed a strand of hair back from her face with a touch gentle enough that she might have slept through it if she had been more deeply asleep.

"We’re almost there," he said quietly.

She lifted herself slightly to look past him toward the window.

Lake Como spread below them, still and luminous in the late light, the long narrow shape of the water curving between steep mountainsides where villages clung to the slopes like pale clusters of stone.

After the long distance and the quiet hours suspended above the ocean, the sight felt almost unreal.

Lake Como waited below them in the fading light, calm and shining, less like the end of a journey and more like the beginning of something they had not yet lived.