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Finishing our sandwiches in silence, we continued to watch the ocean pass by. Marnie went up on the top deck, leaving me and Travis alone once again. “Feel better?” he asks, brushing the hair from my face.
“I do. Although, I got a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The old me, the woman that boarded your jet, would refuse to get off this boat until I could put myself together.”
“And you now?”
“She just wants to get to a hotel, shower and sleep for days.”
“You know, I think you are prettier now than you were in your fancy little getup with your hair and makeup done.”
“You’re a horrible liar.”
His deep laugh makes me smile. As we approached the Big Island, Marnie informed us that she would contact the local authorities to inform them of our arrival and the situation. I can't help but feel a pang of sadness as I realize it's time to say goodbye to Travis.
It's strange, feeling this way after only knowing him for a couple of days. But there's something about him, something that makes me feel like there's a connection between us, something more than just two strangers thrown together by circumstance.
Travis stuck by me through the interviews with the various authorities. A cab was waiting to take us our separate ways, but I found myself prolonging the goodbye.
"Maybe I could call you sometime?" I suggest feeling a little awkward.
He gives me a wink and leans in to give me a kiss. "I'd like that," he says softly. "But I'll need to buy a phone first."
I start laughing, only then realizing I have my purse and nothing else. My phone may or may not work. That’s a shock to me that I don’t know. I quickly pull it out and attempt to power it on but the battery is dead. “Me too,” I tell him. “Just in case this doesn’t work.”
He points across the street to a market. “I’ve got my wallet. I’ll buy a phone for now.”
“And then what is your plan?” I ask. “I’m guessing our hotel reservations have been canceled.”
“I’m heading to the airport,” he says. “I need to get home and deal with the FAA, my investor, and the insurance company. There will be no Hawaiian vacation for me.”
The flimsy flip flops Marnie gave to me slap against the pavement as we cross the street. We both buy phones; more water and I find a pair of sandals that fit a little better. We go outside and sit on a bench, firing up the phones and giving each other our temporary numbers.
“Well, I guess this is it,” he says, making no move to leave.
“I’ll be here for a few days,” I tell him. “I need to call my office and find a laptop.”
He nods and for a second, I think that’s it, but then he gently cups my face and kisses me. It was a soft, lingering kiss, filled with a hint of longing and the promise of something more. After breaking away, he smiles at me, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
"I hope you will call me when you get back. I’d like to take you out to a real dinner. Maybe even try sex in a real bed.”
I can't help but laugh, feeling a sudden surge of affection for him. During all our troubles, he never lost his sense of humor or his charm.
"Deal," I say.
I hop in the cab and make my way to the hotel where my reservation was. Fortunately, the room I reserved was still available. I pull out my phone with the intention of texting Travis. As I walk into my room with thoughts of a hot shower on my mind and the lingering effects of Travis’s kiss, I’m not paying attention.
Out of nowhere, a man grabs me around the waist and drags me down the hall.
Chapter 12
Travis
After putting Paige in the cab to the hotel up the road, I go back into the market to get some more snacks and water along with Advil. I’ve got a splitting headache. I didn’t want Paige to know the adrenaline let down was revealing the aches and pains from the crash. The dehydration and lack of food and sleep were taking me down in a hurry. I grab a couple cans of Red Bull to keep me going until I can get my butt on a plane.
I glance down at my torn pants and shoes that are trashed. I look like crap and will struggle to get through TSA even with my precheck pass. “Hey, do you know where I can get some clothes and shoes?” I ask the guy behind the register.
He looks me up and down, clearly judging me for what I appeared to be in my torn and ripped clothes. “There’s a homeless—”
“No,” I correct him. “A store. I can buy clothes. Something close. I’m on my way to the airport.”
