“I think this one might be it.” Adam looked around the studio space, brow furrowed.

“I think it looks just like the last four we saw,” Callum said. Amelia hung back behind him, her hand resting on his hip, her hand covering her mouth so Adam wouldn’t hear her giggle. After spending his whole life on the farm, in his family’s cottage, the small spaces available in the city were clearly throwing him for a loop. Callum was right in so much as most of the small studio or one-bedroom apartments they’d looked at were pretty much alike.

“If you think you’ll be comfortable here, maybe this is the one you should go with,” she said gently, casting a sideways glance at Callum to remind him to not laugh. As at ease as Adam always was on the farm, tackling problems that would have made Amelia throw her hands up and lose her mind, he was completely out of his depth here. Callum and Amelia were trying to gently guide him through the process, without making him feel that he was being babied. It was a fine line to tread, and privately, Amelia thought she was better at it than Callum.

Adam took one last turn around the room, opening up cabinet doors and peeking inside, until finally he nodded. “Let’s do the paperwork.”

“You’re leaving me to deal with his adjustment alone,” Callum whispered, shaking his head. “Way to duck out, Amelia.”

She laughed. “I think you’ll handle it just fine. He’ll adapt, don’t worry.”

Callum snorted. “I don’t know about that. It’s a big change.” He paused. “You could always stay and help you know.”

Amelia didn’t look at him. “That’s a crazy idea, Callum. What on earth would I do? I don’t even have a job here.”

“You don’t have a job in Chicago, either, at least once your research is done,” he pointed out. “There’s a university here, you know. You could do a post-doc, work on a project for them.”

“I don’t think it’s just as easy as all that,” Amelia said. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

Callum shrugged. “You never know.” He didn’t say anything else, and Amelia let the subject drop.

* * *

A couple of hours later, they crowded into a small booth in the pub down the street from Callum’s apartment. “To a successful hunt!” Amelia said, clinking her beer glass against theirs. “And the start of a new adventure.”

Her heart twisted as she said it, and she quickly looked down at her menu to hide her expression. She was happy for Adam, truly, she was. And for Callum too, especially after the way he’d poured his heart out to her that evening, confessing all the long-held feelings for Adam. They’d finally have their chance, living in the same city, away from all the gossip and judgmental, gossipy neighbors. She was happy for them but she knew that she ached to be a part of it, too. Unfortunately, there was no way that she could see to make that happen.

She didn’t even know if they truly wanted that to happen. Callum had mentioned it earlier, of course, but she wasn’t at all certain that wasn't heat of the moment talk. Maybe what the three of them had was just a holiday romance and nothing more.

Adding a third person to a relationship was complicated to say the least. They might want time alone, a night together without her, or she might want a night with just one of them. How would that all even work? Would they have to each have their own room, or would they just assume that they’d all pile into the same bed every night?

“Still there?” Callum nudged her softly, his head tilting against hers. “You look like you’re a million miles away.”

Amelia shook her head, pushing away the thoughts of a situation she’d likely never need to figure out. “I’m here,” she said, forcing a smile.

“I guess the next few weeks are going to be a lot of packing and getting ready,” Adam said.

“You know I’ll help.” Callum grinned at him. “Even though I hate packing I'll make the sacrifice.”

Amelia started to say that she’d help too, and then caught herself. She wouldn’t be helping, not much anyway. She’d be on a flight back to Chicago by the end of next week. Her stomach twisted again, and this time she had to fight to keep tears from welling up. I am not ready to go home, she thought. I want to stay.

She looked up, and she saw that Adam was looking at her, a strange expression on his face. He caught her eyes, his lips pressing together as if he were thinking of saying something. He reached for his beer, his gaze breaking away from hers, and the moment was gone.

Even if she wanted to talk about what was happening, she didn’t have the slightest idea how to begin.

* * *

“Just keep the things that really remind you of them,” Amelia said. “If it’s an heirloom, or something really special. If it’s something you don’t even think about, or remember ever really seeing used, don’t keep it. A few really meaningful things will be better.”

Adam nodded, staring down at the pile on the floor in front of him, and Callum squeezed Amelia’s hand. She returned the gesture, her fingers curling around his, and they sat like that for a few moments, their hands resting on the rug between them.

She glanced up, and saw Adam's glass was empty. “I’ll get some more drinks,” she said, letting go of Callum’s hand and standing up. She could feel her throat tightening again, could feel the emotions that had been simmering for days now, ever since the weekend in Edinburgh, and she needed a moment to herself. Adam looked at her quizzically, but handed her his glass. She took Callum’s as well, avoiding his eyes, and turned to go into the kitchen.

She stood at the counter, toying with the corner of the label on the scotch bottle, staring down at the patterns in the Formica. She’d give anything, she thought, if she could just rewind and keep living these last weeks over and over.

She heard footsteps and straightened up, brushing quickly at her cheeks in case any of the tears that had been welling up in her eyes had fallen. She knew it was Adam without turning around.

She felt his broad hand rest on her hip, and she could feel the heat radiating off him. She wanted to lean back against him, let him wrap his arms around her waist and sink into the warm expanse of him, but she stayed where she was. It was going to hurt so much more if she kept going like this. If she kept letting herself fall.

She felt his arms slide around her waist, his palm resting on her ribs, and he pulled her back against him. “Amelia,” he said softly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said, her voice tight. “Nothing at all. Just tired.”

“I know that’s not it.” His voice was gentle and deep in her ear. She wondered what it would be like to be in his arms, hear his voice, and know that he’d be there the next morning, and the morning after that, and all the rest of her future mornings. What would it be like to not always know, in the back of her mind, that the clock was running and soon she’d have to leave.

He turned her gently in his arms, looking down at her, and tilted her chin up. It was too much, and she felt the tears welling up again.

“Is it that you’re leaving?” He touched her cheek. “We’ve got a few days left.”

“I know,” Amelia said. Her voice dropped lower, almost a whisper, and the words tumbled out before she could stop them. “It’s not nearly enough.”

His arms tightened around her. “It’s not,” he said quietly. “I don’t know how much time would ever be enough.”

“What do you mean?” Her voice trembled.

“I think you know exactly what I mean,” he said. He rested his hand against her face, his fingers sliding back into her hair.

“Tell me,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. She wanted to lean into his hand, to move forward, press against him, kiss him. But she wanted more to know what he was going to say.

He swallowed, the muscles in his jaw tightening. A long moment hung between the two of them, and Amelia could do nothing other than look up at him and wait.

“I love you, Amelia,” he said finally, his voice deep and quiet. “I know it hasn’t been that long, and I know that there’s nothing I can do about the way things are. But I can’t let you go back to Chicago without telling you. I love you.”