Three o’clock.
The lobby crowd thinned out. My panic, which had been a tight knot, was evolving into a trembling fear.
I went to the concierge again. “Anything?”
“I called the heli-ski office,” Stephen said, his brow furrowed. “Radio silence for the last couple of hours, but that’s common in the canyons.”
“Radio silence?” My voice cracked.
“It’s the mountains, Mrs. Carideo. Signals get blocked.”
I went back to my seat. I stared at the door. Every time it spun, I held my breath.
Three-thirty.
My phone was in my hand, my thumb hovering over Michael’s number. What would I even say?I think he’s dead.
I felt like I was going to vomit.
Three-forty-five.
The revolving door spun. A burst of cold air swept into the lobby, carrying the scent of snow and exhaust.
Voices. Loud, booming voices.
“Man, that third drop! Did you see the air I got?”
I opened my eyes.
Marco.
He was walking through the door, helmet tucked under his arm, goggles around his neck. His face was windburned, his hair a mess, his jacket covered in snow. He was laughing, slapping one of the guides on the back.
He was alive.
The relief hit me so hard my knees buckled. I had to grab the arm of the chair to keep from sliding to the floor. Tears pricked my eyes—hot, angry tears.
I stood up and walked toward him. My legs felt like lead.
He saw me. His face split into a wide, blinding grin.
“Tess!” He dropped his gear bag and opened his arms. “You wouldn’t believe it! It was incredible!”
I reached him and didn’t hug him. I shoved him. Hard.
His grin faltered. “Whoa. Hey. What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” My voice was a hiss, trembling with rage. “Look at the time, Marco! Look at the goddamn time!”
He glanced at the clock on the wall, then back at me, confusion clouding his eyes. “It’s... almost four. Oh. Shit.”
“You said noon,” I said, my voice rising. People were looking, but I didn’t care. “You promised noon. I’ve been sitting here for four hours thinking you were dead. Thinking you were buried under an avalanche.”
“Tess, I’m sorry.” He reached for me again, but I stepped back. “It was so good out there. Derek said we could squeeze in two more runs in the back bowl. We lost track. The radio was spotty...”
“I don’t care about the conditions!” I felt a tear slide down my cheek and angrily wiped it away. “I care that you lied to me. I care that I was about to call my brother and tell him his sister is a widow.”
His face fell, the joy draining out of him. He looked at me, really looked at me, and saw the terror I’d been living in.
