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“I’ll never want you to be wrong, Clayton. That’s why I’m walking away now.”
“What you did back there for Rob and Amber, I won’t forget it,” I beg. “What we’ve shared together with Raffi and Matty! You’ve got to stay, please. Stay.”
“I can’t.” Her eyes darken.
“You don’t think I can love you?”
“I know you love me. But I don’t want you to.”
My feet seem to fix themselves to the floor. Numbness washes over me like what’s happening is just a mirage. But there she is, running away from me, exiting the world I wish she was part of.
26
ISABELLE
The taxi driver keeps looking at me from the rearview mirror. It’s probably not the first time he’s had a crying passenger.
Yes, I was crying when I hopped in, but not for Clayton. My tears were for the life I just brought into this world. But with the state of my dress—and a common assumption—I won’t blame the driver for thinking some kind of boy had just dumped me.
I tie my hair back in a ponytail. Responding to the driver’s glance, I lift my chin up, showing that I’m composed. Then I wipe the smudges around my eyes with a tissue and reapply my makeup. My gaze strays back to the rearview mirror as if telling him the break-up is not going to bring me down, if that’s what he’s thinking about.
I’m grieving for Clayton, but it’s really no time to cry for him. I’ll have a lifetime to do it, but not now.
I refrain from calling Thomas. The last time he talked to me, he was on a secure line. For the sake of our safety, silence is golden at the moment.
“Can you go a little faster?” I ask the driver.
“I’m sorry, Ma’am. I can’t. Speed limit.”
I let it be. It seems that he’s still scrutinizing me. I’m thankful that my dress is dark green. There’s blood on it—from the delivery—but it appears like I’d spilled some red wine.
Being patient and composed is one thing, but time is ticking. This is ridiculously slow! I have to get to Raffi.
As we crawl along the highway, an idea springs out.
“I change my mind. Take me to LAX.”
“Sure.” The driver soon changes lanes.
I know how I’m going to spend Don’s two-grand carrot, but I need more than that if my plan is to work. I call Pippa.
“Hey, what’s up, Gizzy?” she answers jovially.
“Pip, is Raffi still with Wyatt?” This morning, I’d asked her to take my son to his house. There’s no way Don’s men will have the audacity to take Raffi from the former Navy pilot.
“Yes. Matty is with them, too. You okay?”
“Look. Pack Raffi’s clothes, and take some of mine too.”
“Iz? What’s going on?”
“Just do it. The less you know, the better.”
“That man who took Raffi that night when you were in Kenya. He wasn’t your uncle, was he?”
“Pip! The less you know, the better. You’re the only one who can help me now. Just do as I say, or you’ll get us killed.”
That seems to get her going. I can hear rustling near her, I think she’s pulling my suitcase.
