It’s my flight.
I adjust the strap of my carry-on and head toward the gate. I’m in the worst mood.
Last night can’t be how it ends—I can’t erase the image of her, bereft, from my mind. Those sad green eyes will haunt me.
My phone feels like a dead weight in my pocket. Ten missed calls. Nine unanswered texts. The fact that she refuses to speak to me hurts like hell.
How do you convince yourself it’s time to walk away from the person you love? That you need to accept that they aren’t coming back?
Even now, as I’m about to put an ocean between us, I’m not sure I have the strength to admit it.
After a short walk, my gate comes into view and I see there’s still a queue of passengers waiting to board. Families headed on holiday, people returning home, workers checking their emails—life just… goes on.
I’m about fifty meters away when I hear a shouting behind me, and it’s growing louder.
“Ma’am, you cannot pass without proper documentation—”
“I’m telling you, my brother’s in there!”
Hold on. I know that voice.
Anna.
I turn and jog back into the terminal, my eyes scanning the crowd. Sure enough, about a hundred meters away, she’s in the middle of a full-blown altercation with airport security.
She’s yelling and swinging her handbag around like a mad woman.
What the fuck is she doing?
She spots me from a distance.
“For Christ’s sake, he’s right there. MAX! Maxwell Browne, you posh prick!”
“Ma’am, if you don’t have a boarding pass—”
“I don’t need a bloody boarding pass!” she shouts. “I need to stop my emotionally constipated brother from messing up his entire life!”
And that’s when I see it. A blonde flash in my peripheral vision, darting around security unnoticed while Anna carries on behaving like a complete nutter.
Gemma.
She’s running.
“Max!” she calls, her eyes scanning wildly. “Max!”
Behind her, Anna makes a break for it, dodging security’s grasp and bolts full speed out of the terminal.
But I’m frozen. Becauseshe’s here.
Face streaked with tears, breathing hard. Her hair is unruly and—is she wearing two right shoes?
My bag drops to the floor with a heavy thud.
She doesn’t slow down.
“Gemma!” I call, my body moving before my mind catches up. “Gemma!”
Her eyes lock on mine and a jagged sob breaks loose as we book it toward each other.
