This means air travel, and even my terror for Alex and his mother isn’t enough to distract me from that.
I can hardly breathe.
My call to Alex goes to voicemail. I try not to crumble.Please, lord, let him be okay.
Ophelia
Tread water, Alex. Tread water until midnight, and we’ll figure it out from there.
We stop at the top of the stairs, and Vincenzo reaches out for the door, hand pausing above the handle like he’s forgotten to do something. He drags me into a rough hug. “You okay?”
I swallow thickly, force out a shrug. His presence is comforting, sure and confident as always. I’m grateful Alex has him, hasalwayshad him. “I’m worried about him.”
He pulls away, two giant hands settling on my shoulders like he’s trying to keep me together. “He’ll be okay. He has you. You two are the real deal.”
“He has me,” I repeat, with a nod. Ineedto show up for him. I’m not the girl who fell into despair for four years. I’m not the girl who runs away, who closes off her heart. I’ve grown. “Let’s go.”
VINCENZO HOVERS INmy doorway while I empty the bottomless pit of junk that is the top drawer of my bedside table onto the bed. My passport is there, stuck closed by a melted Haribo. It’ll do.
“I can’t bring liquids?” I ask, throwing an eclectic mix of clothes into a bag without really looking. The flight is the elephant in the room. I can tell that Vincenzo doesn’t believe there’s any universe in which I’ll actually set foot on a plane.
Neither do I, but I’m hoping I’ll just do it when the time comes.
“Yeah, you can.”
“What?”
“It’s a private jet. You can bring what you like.”
“I …” Oh no. A private jet. My hands shake violently as I try to get a hold of the zipper on my bag. “I … I can …”
“Worry about the whole plane thing later, Pheelz.”
“Yeah,” I choke out, finally zipping up my duffel. Vincenzo slings both my bags and both of his own over his shoulder, picking up another phone call as we walk.
He leads me out of the mansion and onto the shady path to the car park. I stop beside his distinctive Maserati, but he keeps walking, toward Belladonna’s Bronco. “She’s the faster driver.”
Belladonna arrives, together with Jack, one of Alex’s friendsfrom the rugby team whose parents are part of Elise’s medical team. I haven’t spoken to Belladonna since the night in the woods, though she often makes an appearance in my nightmares, an endless loop of Laura’s death and blood on my hands.
It’s tense between us. We’ve not spoken, save for the odd question she texts through from her men to confirm they’ve cleared up all traces of Laura’s existence and buried the final copy of the photo that started all this. I have no right to be upset that she intervened, that she killed to protect herself, but I am. She had every right to be angry that I put her in that position, and by the look she shoots my way, she still is.
Vincenzo tosses all of our bags into the back, and the four of us climb into the car. Belladonna makes Eike look slow. I have one hand pressed to the roof and the other braced on the window as she skids the car out of Sorrowsong’s long forested driveway.
On the plus side, it makes me slightly less apprehensive of the flight, because at this rate, none of us are making it to the airport alive.
They all make phone calls, Belladonna to her father, Vincenzo to his security guys, to his mother, to the airport. Jack to his mom, his girlfriend.
They all ring their people, but my person—myonlyperson—is three thousand miles away, somewhere I can’t hold him or comfort him, like he does so well for me.
All I need to do is get on that plane. I can’t get off once it’s up. I just need to get into my seat and do the panicking afterward.
But I stare at the journey time ticking down on Belladonna’s dashboard like it’s a countdown to my demise. I scrub clammy palms over my tights, trying to think of things I can see, smell, hear, taste.
The gray water and foggy hills of Loch Glascarnoch are vanishing in the rearview mirror. I have a horrible fear that I’ll turn back around when the time comes and let Alex down.
Just over thirteen seconds. That’s how long my parents were in freefall. It doesn’t sound long, but I bet it was. I wonder if they were conscious. If they knew what was coming. If it felt like the longest thirteen seconds of their lives.
It’s probably even longer in a plane.
