My phone vibrates with a message.Tessa. Finally. I swipe it open.
Tessa
Best New Year’s ever.
I smile and reply.
Me
I got worried. No word from you in like years!
She types, and I spot Tristan coming back from taking a shower in the airport lounge’s facilities. He’s dressed in a white shirt, a pair of cropped chinos, and brown boat shoes, with a dark blue sweater tossed over his shoulder. He looks like a preppy yacht boy—like the type who would stay at St Chalamet.
Tessa
Where are you now?
Tessa’s message drags my gaze away from Tristan.
ME
Business class lounge in Heathrow. It’s chef’s kiss. Only one more long haul and then we’re almost there.
Tessa
How’re you feeling about the job?
My fingers hover above my phone.Honestly? Nervous as all shit and somewhat exhilarated and excited and crazy.
Tristan sinks into the chair next to mine with a smile. “You should grab a shower. The bathrooms are spotless.” He leans closer, sending a waft of intoxicating clean man in my direction, and whispers conspiratorially, “For all you know, this is the last good shower you’re going to have for a while.”
“You’re probably right.” I check the time on my phone. Maybe I should take his advice. After all, half of our Beaumont training was about how to manage, troubleshoot, and make do in case there’s a malfunction of the high-tech green solutions on the island, from the solar panels to the water desalination plant and septic tank systems. Scientifically, I’ve now gone places I’d never been before. Tristan breezed through those. But science of any sort has never been my thing. Who knows what the shower water is like on Ne’emba?
I reply to Tessa’s last message about how I’m feeling.
Me
Nervous.
For all the right reasons and possibly for a few new ones that hadn’t been on my radar when we made a play for this gig. I mean, what was I thinking that day in Tristan’s room with Mom? Touching him like I did while she was watching his latest edits.I need to keep myself in check. Tristan is hot, but he’sTristan. It’s just that after seeing the magnitude and importance of his project, I realized failure wasn’t an option and I couldn’t be the reason he didn’t spend time on Ne’emba Island. I was moved by the work he’s doing. I meant what I said about it being important. So I’ve since been turning a blind eye to my small moral conundrum, ignoring any inner voices that whisper to me that, just like Dad, I’m a fool to think I’ll get away with this.
“We still have another hour before we board,” Tristan says as he swipes away on his phone. “Can I get you anything?”
A bout of amnesia? Covering the last month and the next three to come?I clear my throat and glance at the small plate of snacks and half a flute of Prosecco still on standby. “I’m good. I’ll go shower in a minute.”
“Mind if I go shop quickly?” he asks.
“No, go for it. For all you know it’s the last good shopping you’re going to get in for a while.”
He chuckles as he gets up and gathers his things. “I’ll meet you back here.”
“Sure.”
Tristan walks off with his carry-on luggage in tow, and I’m glad I don’t need to keep watch over any of his things. It’s as if his life-support system is in that bag—his Mac laptop and some of his most expensive camera equipment made the carry-on cut. As for his scuba diving and oceanography stuff, the packing was interesting. Luckily, we’re flying business class and have a larger weight allowance, but he still had to pay for overweight baggage.
My phone vibrates in my hand, and I glance down at the screen.
Tessa
