It’s impossible to miss the flinch. Oscar Stone is as steely as his name implies, and like any good Brit, he’s perfected his stiff upper lip. But I am his weakness. I am the reason he is here.
“I’ll find you.”
My quivering lips deliver a less-than-believable smile. He won’t find me. No one will find me. The weight on my chest intensifies further. Oscar isn’t the best dad in the traditional sense, but he’s the best dad for me. There hasn’t been one day in my entire life that I haven’t felt like his whole world.
It’s time to say goodbye and the nod from the prison officer behind him confirms it.
“I love you, Oscar.”
He rubs a rough hand over his shaven head, blue eyes squinted, deepening the lines and wrinkles on his face. A lifetime etched into his flesh. I look nothing like Oscar. The only physical attribute I have to my Caucasian dad is my skin is brown not black like my mum’s. He used to tell me we were white chocolate, milk chocolate, and dark chocolate. His word is all I have. I don’t remember my mum, but she was perfect. If I have to make up imaginary memories of my mum, they’re sure ashell going to be spectacular. In my mind, she was a goddess, a superhero—perfection.
My eyes drift back to reality and the man before me. Prison has aged him, but if I’m honest, running from the law stole years from him long before his stint of incarceration.
“Ruby…” his voice cracks “…I’ll come for you.”
I nod as we both stand. Those are four powerful words coming from the great Oscar Stone. He wasn’t captured; he surrendered ten years ago. There is a purpose for everything Oscar does. Twenty years is a bargain compared to what would be a guaranteed life sentence for any other person who had committed the same crime.
My crime. Not his.
Tampering with an organ-donor list and bribing everyone who might notice is not exactly legal. Not all necessary things in life reside on the right side of the law. I did it, but he pled guilty.
The prison officer announces our time is over. Oscar clutches the sides of the table. We share a lasting look that doesn’t falter as he unfolds his tall body from the chair, its legs screeching along the floor. When did the middle of life fade into this blur with ‘firsts’ and ‘lasts’ suffocating the really incredible stuff in the middle?
I’m so afraid this final goodbye will forever be my lasting memory of my dad.
Here it is: would have, could have, should have. How many people get this opportunity to say all they’ve ever wanted to say? No regrets.
“I love you.” Why are those my only words? My heart swells with so much pain I can’t squeeze one more word past it. It’s not enough. A million sentiments scream in my head:I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I never felt normal, but I always… always felt loved. Thank you for being both a dad and a mum. Don’t hate me when you find out the truth.
“Why are you crying? My girl never cries.” He cradles my face and brushes his thumbs across my cheeks.
“Life’s just…” I whisper past the lump in my throat, “…not fair.”
“No one ever said it would be, Ruby. But it’s the only one you have, so go fucking live it.” He kisses my forehead.
I throw my arms around his neck. If I don’t let go, then this will go away. Oscar is a fixer. He makes the impossible possible again.
“Stop!” I sob as the prison officer pulls Oscar from my hold.
“I’ll come for you…” His head twists back as his feet shuffle toward the door. He’s waiting for me to turn and leave, but I won’t. Not this time. I watch him fade into the distance, each listless step a word in the final sentence of a book.
Goodbye, Oscar Stone.
I love you.
*
The probability ofreturning to London is zero. My name is Scarlet Stone, and I’m a third-generation thief with a one-way ticket to Savannah, an ex-fiancé on his way to Africa, and a copy of Eckhart Tolle’sStillness Speaksin my messenger bag. My goal is to figure out the meaning of life or die trying.
“If you have a computer in there, you’ll need to take it out.”
My lips curl as I wink at the airport security guard. “No computer.” I zip through the scanner with a simple pair of leggings, T-shirt, ballet flats, and my ruby pendant necklace dangling in my right hand so security can see it.
An hour and a neck pillow impulse-buy later, we’re wheels up. My gaze finds the white knuckles on the armrest between the first-class seats. Before I destroyed my computer and mobilephone, I hacked into the airline’s system and upgraded my seat to first-class at no extra charge. It was my last illegal indiscretion.
I hope.
“You fly often?” the sandy blond asks in a shaky voice as he eases his grip, wide eyes darting to mine while trepidation continues to bead along his suntanned brow.
