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Chapter Thirty-Five
Tara studied the note, flushed beet red, and handed it over. Samantha stuck it back into her passport, which she secured in the zippered pocket of the tote bag she stuffed beneath her seat. She prayed that would be the end of it.
Tara was silent as they raced down the runway. She clutched the armrest when the aircraft rattled as the wheels pulled in. They hadn’t reached cruising altitude when she loosened her grip.
‘I was at that hotel just last night, at a close friend’s wedding.’
‘What a coincidence.’
‘And I recognize that handwriting.’
Obviously.
‘What’s your name?’ Tara asked.
Samantha exhaled. If Tara could play it straight, so could she. ‘I’m Samantha Roberts. I was a bridesmaid at the wedding. Your close friend married my best friend.’
‘You’re that Sam?’
‘Depends what you mean by that.’
Tara turned away and stared out the window, her eyes searching the clouds. ‘I think we know.’
Samantha wasn’t proud of it, but her heart swelled upon hearing those words. There was a part of her that revelled in finding Tara on her flight. It meant that she hadn’t stayed behind with Roman, not that she cared.
Tara repeated the note from memory. ‘You’re perfect for me.’
‘I wouldn’t read too much into that.’
‘Did you know him long?’ Tara asked.
‘Barely a week. We were the only single people at the wedding and just started hanging out. I was perfect for him … under those limited circumstances.’
Samantha wondered what she was aiming to achieve, going on like this. Who was she trying to convince? Tara or herself?
‘Roman only says what he means,’ Tara said. ‘If he said you’re perfect for him, you are. Lucky you.’
The refreshment service marked the end of the first round. Samantha requested a green tea, no sugar. Tara went for a ginger ale, no ice. They attended to their beverages without saying a word. The tea was terrible, and Samantha’s throat was too tight to drink anyway. She checked the time. Two and a half hours to go. What were her options other than locking herself in the tiny, smelly lavatory?
Tara reached blindly under her seat and pulled two small packets of chocolate-covered pretzels from her bag. She offered one to Samantha.
‘No thanks.’
‘They’re far better than airline snacks. I stock up whenever I travel.’
‘I’m sure, but …’ Samantha paused. On second thought, it would be rude to turn her down. ‘Thank you.’
Samantha ripped open the pack and made a point of munching on a few pretzels. They were delicious, the right sweet-to-salty ratio. ‘Tasty.’
‘Right?’ Tara did a little shoulder shimmy. ‘I love turning people on to gourmet snacks. You’ll never settle for the cheap stuff again.’
‘The hell is going on here?’
That was Hugo, and his little outburst earned him a reprimand from a young mother in the next aisle. He rushed to Samantha’s side. ‘My sixth sense told me to check on you. How did this happen?’
Samantha shrugged, helpless. There was no explanation. The universe had her in a spin cycle.
‘I know you!’ Tara exclaimed. ‘You were at my table last night.’
