Page 156 of High Reward

With a heavy sigh, I pick up my bag. “I’ll call,” I say. To both of them, but I’m looking at Victor when I say it.

He nods and murmurs, “I love you.”

I walk through the doors without responding. If I speak or look back, I won’t get on the plane.

But once I’m through security, I pull out my phone and start a group text with both of them.

Lili: I love you too.

Grace

IstareafterLilifor a long moment, until an airport security guard blows his whistle and tells us we have to move.

Victor hurries and opens the front passenger door, and I slide in, pulling my seatbelt across me as he rounds the car and climbs behind the wheel.

The back seat is empty. It’s the first thing I notice as Victor checks his mirrors and pulls away from the curb, merging into traffic leading away from the terminal.

I stare in the rearview mirror at the seat Lili occupied on the way here. It’s empty, and my heart is heavy. There’s nothing but leather staring back at me for the long drive home.

The airport disappears as I stare out the passenger window, and I wonder which plane will be taking Lili away from me. Away from us.

The city is lit up the way it always is at night. Bright with energy and excitement, completely clueless as to what just happened at the airport. I press my fingers into my thigh and focus on the pressure. I made it through the goodbye, I made it through the hug and through watching her walk through those doors without looking back. There’s no way I’m going to fall apart on the freeway.

I breathe out slowly and close my eyes for a few minutes. Victor remains quiet, and I’m grateful. The sound of his voice might undo me right now.

My phone buzzes in my pocket and I fish it out, expecting something routine. Instead, I see a text from Lili. It’s group text to me and Victor. The message is four words.

Lili: I love you too.

I stare at it long enough that Victor notices. “What’s wrong?”

I shake my head. “Nothing’s wrong. Everything is better.” I show him the message and he gives me a small smile. She couldn’t say it at the curb, and I didn’t blame her for it. Now I know she needed to get through the doors first, to be on the other side of security, where she was committed to going and doing what she needs to do. I set the phone face-down on my leg and stare at the passing street lamps, and remind myself that this is what she needs. Loving us from a safe distance is what she can offer, and I have to take that.

For now.

I hope she knows how much I understand what she’s doing and why.

We stop at a red light somewhere near the edge of the Strip. Victor doesn’t look at me when I glance his direction. He just reaches across the console and picks up my hand, wrapping it inside his without a word.

My eyes fill.

The light turns green, and he drives the rest of the way one-handed, my hand still caught in his as the city fades around us and we get further from the lights and the noise.

I watch the passing desert, mostly dark shadows and very little light, and think about how different the drive home is without her. Three of us got into this car, and only two are in it now. That math hurts. Even if it’s temporary.

She’s coming back. I have to believe that.

Victor pulls into the driveway and sits for a moment with both hands back on the wheel, not moving or speaking. I watch the side of his face in the dark and try to read what is happening in there the way he always reads me. The pain of leaving Lili at the airport is visible in little ways that most might not notice. The tightness in his jaw, the way he grips the steering wheel a little too hard.

I reach over and squeeze his shoulder, a quiet reassurance that I’m here and not going anywhere.

He glances at me and tucks a curl behind my ear, then climbs out of the car, and comes around to open my door.

The house feels empty when we walk through the door. I stop at the bottom of the stairs and take a deep breath to prevent the tears from flowing. The spot where Lili’s suitcase sat all day is empty now. Just like the backseat, and I press a hand to my heart. God this hurts.

Victor’s hand finds the small of my back and steers me gently toward the stairs.

He doesn’t turn any lights on in the bedroom, and I kick my shoes off inside the door. The sheets on the bed are still rumpled from this afternoon, and a single tear drips down my cheek. Victor pulls the covers back and motions for me to climb in. I pull my dress off before obeying, not caring that I’ve let it crumple on the floor. For once, Victor doesn’t scold or say anything. He simply strips off his shirt and lets it join my dress, then settles beside me and pulls me against his chest. I let the weight and warmth of him be the thing that holds me together.