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She stops walking. “He’s a billionaire?”
I stop and turn around again. “Did I forget to mention that?”
“And you didn’t know?”
I shake my head so hard my ponytail hits my cheek. “I found out and kind of lost my shit. Looking back, it seems like a stupid thing to get mad about.”
“Is that what he lied about?” she asks.
“Now that I think about it, he didn’t volunteer that information, and I didn’t ask. I don’t know if I could ever say he really lied about what he does. He told me he was a fisherman, but he doesn’t catch the fish. He just sells them.”
I turn around again, and she’s silent until we reach the hotel bar. We run through the routine again. I hold up my phone with the picture I took of Maddox and me hiking. Once again, a bouncer shakes his head.
The tears I’ve been holding trickle down my cheek, and I trudge to a nearby lobby bench. Dian’s at my side in a moment, her arm around me and pulling me to her shoulder.
Even though I’ve known her for a few hours and we’re from opposite corners of the world, I let this amazing woman comfort me and be a shoulder to cry on as I let loose right there in an Australian hotel lobby, my sobs drowned out by the brick fountain behind me. I will forever send Dian a postcard from any place in the world I travel, and I cry for the fact that I’ll have to go home tomorrow and leave her, too.
It’s hard to find friends like this, and even harder to find men like Maddox. That’s not even a reference to his money. When will I ever find someone so handsome, smart, kind, funny, and sexy as fuck? I wouldn’t care if he was dirt poor and jobless. I just want him back.
Farewell Flight
“Youcalledmynamefor standby?” I ask the woman at the Qantas counter.
She smiles and checks the board above her head. “Are you Ava Calvert?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I reply, my voice still trembling and fighting tears because I’ve already embarrassed myself on the Uber ride here. Sure, I couldn’t afford it, but I didn’t expense it. In my misery, I’ll just have to eat the cost of an Australian Uber ride. “Thank you for the ticket.”
She nods and hands me the printed boarding pass, and I look at it a moment, trying to remember the last time I used a printed ticket for anything. Then again, I’m lucky Carol could get me on standby out of Australia today instead of waiting two days for a confirmed ticket. I may have two layovers once I get to the United States, but it’ll just give me more time to feel sorry for myself.
I can’t wait to leave Australia. It’s nothing against the country or the people. In fact, the people are lovely and kind, and I’ve never felt so welcome somewhere that wasn’t my own parents’ house. If anything, I could get an apartment here and work remotely if Mr. Gosnell would allow it. If I didn’t see Maddox every place I looked, I’d be tempted to call this country home.
He’s everywhere here, though. Even though I couldn’t find him last night, no matter how many bars Dian and I checked, nobody had seen him. He’s only in my mind. He’s a beautiful memory I’ll have to hold onto for the rest of my life. I don’t know if I’ll even be able to eat fish in a restaurant again without thinking about him.
After Dian and I checked as many hotel bars as we could last night, Dian went back to the hostel, and I walked around the area, enjoying the cold desert air on my skin and shivering to torture myself. I shouldn’t have called him a liar. He had his reasons, and they weren’t terrible reasons.
Unfortunately, I’ll never get the chance to tell him.
The woman at the counter waves me into the boarding area since the plane is already boarding, and I move down the jetway with tears in my eyes. I can’t stop crying, and I blink them away out of embarrassment. I lower my eyes and board the plane, trying not to look at anyone or anything except the seat numbers in the coach cabin. Finding my seat, I sit down, buckle in, and stare at the blank entertainment screen on the seat in front of me. No books. I’m not sure if I can read another romance book for the rest of my life without thinking about him. I don’t take my phone out of my pocket to entertain me. I simply stare, listening to my stomach growl and lamenting my stupid life choices.
I especially lament that we never exchanged phone numbers. He was with me the whole time, so I didn’t need to call him. Why didn’t I take the time to get his number? Did I think we’d just exchange numbers when we said a friendly goodbye?
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking,” a voice comes over the system above me. It’s a gentle voice, and I slouch down in my seat. He sounds capable and sober. At least we won’t end up going down in a ball of fire over the Pacific Ocean. Add that to the win column. “There is one more passenger that needs to board. We have a good tail wind most of the flight, so we’ll wait a couple minutes until our passenger can get to the gate. Thank you for your patience. Once the passenger is on, we’re already clear to taxi, and we’ll be on our way. Until then, sit back and relax. It’s about fifteen hours with full meal service and entertainment selections in your seat console. Thank you for flying with us today.”
I sigh. Fifteen hours to think about how I fucked up royally.
There’s shuffling up in first class, and the cabin doors shut a few moments later. We must be leaving, and I welcome the roar of the engines. The flight attendants buckle in and chat amiably as I close my eyes. My fellow travelers must be used to the long flight because they pull down eye covers and adjust blankets and pillows like they’re settling in for a long nap.
I hate departure, and my bladder hates it more. There’s something about not being able to go to the bathroom until you’re at cruising altitude. Even if I go to the restroom before I board a plane, I still have to pee at takeoff every time. It all comes down to being in a situation where Ican’tgo to the bathroom. It’s like the time in middle school when we had a water main break and they told us we couldn’t use the toilets for a couple hours. Ironically, every kid in my school had to take a shit or wee just then, and it became a school-wide emergency.
We cruise down the runway, rise quickly, and I cross my legs. I stick my head into the aisle and look up and down the length of the plane. It’s a huge Boeing with aisles on the left and right with seats in the middle. A quick look shows four coach bathrooms and probably two up in first class. Surely, I can get to one right after we reach cruising altitude.
I jostle my legs for a good fifteen minutes and try to think of anything except for the fact that I really need to go to the bathroom. As soon as the captain turns the seatbelt notification off, I unbuckle and jolt out of my seat. Unfortunately, several people have the same idea, and they’re sitting closer to the bathrooms. The coach toilets fill up quickly, and two have lines three people thick by the time I reach them. Thankfully, the flight attendants aren’t watching as they prepare their first drink service.
Walking to the front of the plane, I move past the half-open first-class curtain and stalk to the blessedly open door to the bathroom. I look neither left nor right, and nobody stops me. Maybe Clara has always been right when she tells me you can get away with a lot if you do it with confidence and act like it’s your birthright.
As soon as I wipe, pull down my skirt, and wash my hands, I exhale and look in the mirror. My hair is down and messy. I should have brushed it better, but what’s the point? It’s not like I need to look pretty for a fifteen-hour flight.
I sigh, throw the paper towel in the trashcan, and open the door to the restroom.
