“Oh, thank God.” I don’t recall moving. All I know is I’m peppering her forehead and her face with kisses, my hands sliding over her as though she might not be real. “Darling, I’ve missed you so much.”
“What are you doing here?” She begins to push at my chest as though just coming to her senses. A pity for her that I’m senseless to everything as I tighten my arms, not giving an inch.
“Everything okay over there?”
I turn my head to the deep voice and the pair of men looking toward us. They’re wearing the same khaki-colored outfit as Eve, and just as crumpled, though one man has the addition of a pistol holster. I tighten my arms, pulling her impossibly close, because fuck that and fuckyou, Tucker the nonfucker. Eve is mine.
“Yeah, it’s fine,” she begins. “This is Oliver. He’s ...” Her eyes dart to me, uncertain. “A friend.”
My stomach pits. “Eve, I love you. And I swear to you, I’m not guilty of ... well, not directly responsible for all of it.”So much for preparation of eloquent declarations.
“You’re guilty for crimes against fashion.” Her eyes flick down to my nipple-chafing T-shirt.
“A baby vomited on me.” Keeping one arm around her, I yank at the hem, which has a habit of creeping up. “This was all I had in my carry-on.”My talisman.“You bought it for me in the charity shop, remember?”
“Yes, I remember,” she answers softly.
“My jet was ...” I make a gesture, my heart hammering as my words begin to tumble over themselves. “Then my luggage went to Guangzhou. Not that I blame it, because I wouldn’t want to be seen with me—just look at the state of me.”
“I am.” She fights a smile, not quite giving in. “But what are you doing here?”
“Eve.” Her name brims with emotion. “I’ve flown not only commercial but coach across the world, hurtled through a mountain range in a tin can piloted by a madman. I’ve endured a three-hour ride in an ancient Land Rover that has probably given me brain damage, thanks to a lack of shock absorbers and unpaved roads. I’m certain I’ve left the shape of my skull in its roof. I have a very nasty case of tropical swamp arse thanks to the heat, and—”
“Oliver?”
“—I’d do it all again because, well, because of hope. And love.” I take a breath, pulling it deep. “Eve. My darling, I have been such an idiot on so many fronts.”
“I know.”
“You do? I shouldn’t have kept Lucy secret from you. I’m sorry. I was so ashamed.”
“Of her?”
“Of myself. Of how I behaved. Through all of it.”
“Think you can say that again?” she asks, pulling back.
“Yes, of course, I’ll say it again and again, but please—” But then her fingers are sliding into mine, and she’s leading me to a shack.
“You’d better come in.”
My heart pounds painfully at her solemn expression. At what, or who, I might find inside.
“You still there?”
My blood freezes as I steel myself. It doesn’t matter. Tucker the fucker could never love her like I will.
“Still here and glad to hear you haven’t been carted off by theraskols.”
Lucy?
“I googled that,” my sister adds, her tone tinny. “I suggest you don’t do the same. Please tell me you have an armed escort.”
“Well, I haveanescort.” Eve reaches for her phone, holding it up. “And he has arms. Say hi to your brother.”
“Oh my God—you’re there!” My sister’s smile is so wide.
“How?”
