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“I’m sure Opal will leave you her iPad,” Cal smirks. “And I will keep you company. Tell me more about these distributions you have in mind. I’m all ears.”
Veronica looks like a scarecrow, shaken in a stiff wind. It really seems like the whole point of her coming back here was to torture me specifically. I can’t imagine why. What did I ever do to her? But now that I am leaving, she looks furious and disappointed.
“Let’s get out of here before they decide they want to come along,” Giorgio mutters as we hurry from the room.
My heart races. The golf cart bounces over small obstructions on the concrete path as we whir over the landscape toward the airfield on the north end. I know that I can’t see it yet, but I keep squinting in that direction, anticipating the moment where I will see for sure that it is the Galloway private jet on that airstrip. At this point, it could still be anybody. It could be Richard Branson, for crying out loud. Or Elon Musk. Oh, please don’t let it be Elon. That guy gives me the creeps, for real.
Hanging on to the metal upright, I hold myself steady in the seat as we cover the twists and turns. Finally, the landscape opens up before us and I see it. Absolute confirmation. That is Irving’s plane.
“Thank you, thank you,” I whisper to Giorgio.
“I had to get out of there,” he confesses. “I don’t know how you stand that woman.”
“You have to take the good with the bad,” I shrug. “No job is perfect.”
“Yeah, well, she’s sure seems to have it out for you.”
“She sort of hates everybody,” I answer simply.
“Oh really? Does she talk that way to me? To Cal?”
I shrug.
“Face it, Opal. That woman dislikes you. A lot.”
“I never did anything her,” I object. “Not a single--”
“You didn’t have to,” he laughs as he stomps on the parking brake. “I’m sure when Irving fell for you, that was enough.”
“That’s not… but I mean…”
“It’s obvious to anyone with eyes, Opal,” Giorgio chuckles. “And it doesn’t seem to be brand-new either. How long do you think this has been going on?”
My breath catches in my throat, temporarily choking me mute. I want to object, but the staircase is already descending. I expect to see Irving’s intense gaze, but instead I see a ginger cloud of curls jiggling wildly in the wind.
“Tabby?” I gasp.
With some difficulty, she shoves her hair back so she can see, finally spotting me. When she raises her arm to wave to me, her hair flaps stubbornly back over her eyes.
“Tabbyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!” I squeal, delighted almost to bursting.
My ballet flats barely stay on as I run across the tarmac, colliding with her in a sudden, wonderful hug. She feels amazing. I have missed her so much, I almost want to cry.
“Opal! Opal! Irving brought me!”
“I can see that!” I laugh.
When I finally am able to disengage from the froth of her tangerine curls, I find Irving’s intense, authentic gaze. I’m startled to realize this is him. The real him. The one I found in bed. The one who doesn’t wall himself off. That Irving. That is the one who is looking at me now.
“Hello again,” he smiles. Really smiles.
“Um, hi!” I smile, blushing.
His eyes change, suddenly hungry. They skate over my skin, tracing the line between my collarbones and diving between my breasts. He is hiding nothing now. He is showing me everything that’s on his mind. My core trembles in response, and I have a brief, calamitous vision of our bodies tangled together, writhing and pumping, moving together as we charge toward physical bliss.
“My sentiments exactly,” he murmurs as he leans down to kiss me gently behind my ear. Shivers race down my arms and my knees go wobbly.
“Oh, wow!” Tabby exclaims. “So, this is nice! Hi! Glad to see you two are… I mean. Okay! I’m just going down the stairs now.”
