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She glances at her watch. “You know, if you borrowed my car and maybe bust the speed limit a little, you could make it to the airport before he leaves.”
I look at the time on my watch. “Can I borrow your car?”
“Sure, why?” She sounds perfectly innocent when she asks. “Got a prior engagement?”
“Nope. Got somewhere I need to be, though.”
She tosses me the car keys. “Go get him, cowgirl.” She yells after me as I head out the door. “Any speeding tickets, get him to pay for them.”
I jump into the driver’s seat and start the engine, flooring the gas and moving out onto the street, weaving through the traffic, glancing at the clock on the dash every few minutes.
Time is passing too quickly. What if the flight left early? What if he got on a different one? What if he doesn’t want to talk to me?
I shut down all those doubts. I need to get to the airport and work out the rest from there.
A bus horn beeps as I swerve in front of it. “Sorry,” I shout as I yank the wheel left, taking a corner too fast and almost hitting the oncoming traffic.
As the minutes slip by, I think about everything he’s done for me. Bought the store. Fitted it out. Restarted the magazine and got this issue out on time. Gave Catherine and Eddie enough money to make sure they never suffer again. Kept me safe from Oswald. Made me feel wanted. Made me feel desired. Made me want to submit to him.
That’s the truth behind all of this. I wasn’t pissed at him for dominating me. I was pissed at myself for wanting to submit to him.
How could I want something with one man when everything went so wrong with another?
Maybe because he’s not Oswald. He’s not my father. He’s Hunter Lombardi, and I need to tell him I love him. As long as this slow-moving U-Haul gets out of my way.
The airport’s a quarter of a mile away. I’ve got twenty minutes before he takes off. Is he already on board? Sipping champagne and chatting with Alicia? Am I too late?
The traffic grinds to a halt. I join a queue that’s going nowhere. Ahead a car has smoke coming out from its hood. We’re not moving until that gets towed. Another minute goes by. “Fuck it,” I say out loud, swinging open the door and running past the line of vehicles, seeing the terminal up in front of me.
“Hey,” someone yells. “You can’t leave that here.”
“Bite me,” I yell back, not slowing down. My lungs burn as I sprint for the doors. I pray I’m not too late.
“The two twenty flight to Rome Fiumicino airport is now boarding,” a voice calls out as I burst inside. “This is the last call for passengers of Flight C3A to Rome Fiumicino. Please make your way to gate seven.”
I look at the nearest sign. Gate seven. To the left. I run down that way, crashing straight into a security guard in front of the gate. He takes hold of me, ignoring my squirming efforts to get free. “Hold up,” he says. “Where are you going?”
“I need to see someone. Please, you’ve got to let me go.”
“No one gets through here without a boarding pass. You got a ticket for this flight?”
“No, but—”
“No ticket. No flight.” He points to the desk to his left. “You can get one over there if you’re quick.”
I curse, darting over to the desk. “Single to Rome on the two twenty,” I say, reaching for my handbag and finding my purse inside.
“Passport?” The man behind the desk looks bored like he sees panicked people like me every day of the week. “Can’t book you on without a passport.”
My heart sinks. I rummage in my handbag just in case, but of course I don’t have it. Why would I?
“I seem to have forgotten it,” I say, plastering on my most winning smile. “But I don’t need to get on the plane. I just need to speak to someone who’s boarding. Please, you’ve got to let me through.”
The man shakes his head. “Sorry, no can do.”
“Please, you don’t understand. I need to speak to someone.”
“Listen, lady—”
