When the entrance doors slide open again, I turn too fast and relief hits me square in the chest. There she is. I knew I’d missed her, but I hadn’t realised just how much until this exact second. Just seeing her, even across the lobby, feels like finally coming up for air after weeks underwater.
The feeling of relief doesn’t last long though, because something is wrong. Just like that night at the film premiere, I can spot it almost immediately. Her shoulders are drawn tight, her eyes rimmed red, and there’s an exhausted stillness to the way she carries herself that makes my heart sink.
She looks like she’s sleepwalked through a natural disaster and only just realised what happened. I try to catch her eye,but her gaze is fixed on her phone, her mouth pressed into a thin, unhappy line. It’s only when she gets within a few steps of me that she finally looks up. For a second, I think maybe she doesn’t even register that it’s me standing in front of her.
Then she blinks, like she’s coming back into focus.
Her lips part. ‘Asher?’
My carefully prepared lines are gone, wiped clean by the reality of Imani standing in front of me looking like she’s seconds away from breaking. I have to stop myself from closing the distance and pulling her into my arms right here, right now.
‘Hey,’ I say, trying to keep it light, easy, like nothing’s wrong and I haven’t spent the last sixteen days doing little else but thinking about her.
She cracks out a ghost of a smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. ‘Hey.’
I offer her a soft smile, hoping it hides the panic thrumming under my skin. ‘Rough day?’ It’s a pathetic attempt at casual, but I’m desperate for anything that might make her laugh or at least remind her she’s not alone. Not anymore.
She gives me a quick nod. ‘Family stuff. It’s nothing. You don’t need to worry about it.’ She says it like a reflex, but I get the impression that Imani could be bleeding out and she’d still insist it’s just a scratch.
Don’t worry about it.
How can I not?
Every instinct in me screams to demand answers, to fix whatever has put that look on her face. But I stop myself.Imani doesn’t need fixing; she needs someone who will stand beside her while she finds her footing again.
I nod and, on realising that I’m not going to push, she relaxes ever so slightly.
‘What’re you doing here?’ she asks, then shakes her head and winces. ‘Sorry. That came out wrong.’
‘You’re good,’ I say with a soft laugh. ‘I know you weren’t expecting to see me.’
Her expression turns sheepish. ‘Sorry, I’ve just been—’
‘It’s fine,’ I say. ‘You don’t need to explain yourself to me. I get it.’
‘Do you?’ she asks quietly. She’s still not looking at me.
I reach out and press my thumb against her chin, tipping her head gently so she meets my gaze. ‘I do. And I’m not here about that.’
‘Then why are you here?’ she presses.
‘I have something for you,’ I say, feeling a grin tug at the corner of my lips. ‘A gift.’
Imani arches a brow. There’s a flicker of curiosity there. ‘A gift?’ she repeats dryly.
‘You still keep a suitcase packed by your door, right?’
She blinks at me. Clearly that wasn’t the response she was expecting to her question. ‘Yes…’ she says slowly, dragging the word out until it’s at least three syllables too long.
I let her hang in that confusion for a beat longer, then offer a grin I hope is more reassuring than manic. ‘Good. You’re going to need it.’
An hour later and we’re pulling up at the private airfield on the edge of the city. Imani’s spent the entirety of the car journey here trying to wheedle the location for our final destination out of me, but I’ve managed to keep it a secret.
Barely.
‘Just give me a hint,’ she faux-whines as our car pulls into the airfield. ‘Just one hint and then I won’t ask again.’
I laugh because she’s said that at least four times already, each one more dramatic than the last. I briefly consider giving in. Just a little. But the anticipation in her eyes is too good. She looks like she wants to actually wrestle the answers out of my brain. I want to drag this out for as long as I possibly can.
