Gabby’s mind and spirit were otherwise occupied, but she tried to focus on him as best she could in her state of excitement.
“Are you taking my name?” he asked.
“Oh, yeah, I forgot. Yes. I’ll take Alexander.”
“Nice,” he nodded with satisfaction. “I’m really not down with a hyphen situation.”
She laughed and took her last sip of coffee before TSA.
“And if we have kids, I’d rather we all have the same name.”
Gabby started choking on the last sip of coffee.
Early, day one of the mission, LAX
Gabby tightened her Hermès scarf, pushed her Gucci shades up her nose, and stepped out of Markus’s car as Gia Glanville. One second in, and life as Gia was different. She could feel it, the designer leggings soft against her skin, a heavy polished jade pendant nestled between her breasts, and Louis Vuitton luggage rolling along. It wasn’t just that the wheels worked better—she was starting to work better.
At the baggage check, Markus lifted her Louis onto the scale. When she started filling out a luggage tag, Markus pointed out an engraved gold tag on her bag’s handle.
Markus was beaming at her like she was his entire reason for living. Like he was sharing a secret, he told the checker, “We’re getting married this week.”
The baggage checker reacted like it was scripted from a sitcom. He clutched his heart and sighed. “I’m upgrading you.” With an over-the-shoulder glance, he said, “Don’t tell my boss.” Without a second thought, he tapped at the keyboard and printed them new tickets. “Enjoy.”
Was this how it felt being rich and famous?
The TSA line was their first official appearance as a couple, if you didn’t count the baggage counter. Even with priority, they had to weave through a curlicue line, pretending not to notice the people around them. Really, it was just a reality show with no plot—staring at the other passengers and guessing at relationships and destinations.
She could feel eyes on her and Markus. They werethatcouple, fancy luggage, dressed like A-listers, smelling of tropical vacation and designer perfume. A grandma winked at her in a way that Gabby interpreted as “Way to go!”
She snuck a glance at Markus. If she wanted, she could make this real. The ball was in her court.
The entire airport was a dreamscape of Markus holding Gabby’s purse, gesturing to let her go through the body scanner first, gently guiding her through lines with his hand on the small of her back in a possessive way, and then there were the endearments. “Babe, do you want a sweater?” “Hey, Beautiful.”
Half an hour later, they were boarding the plane. Was it her, or was the flight attendant nicer than usual? With a sparkling smile and a flash of white teeth, the attendant said, “Welcome. What takes you to Boston, business or pleasure?”
“Pleasure,” Markus answered without a second thought. It didn’t seem like a lie. He pulled her into his side like he cherished her. “We’re continuing on to the Azores. To get married.”
Gabby was starting to think that Gia probably didn’t even know what anxiety was. Gia might not even miss Gabby’s old life. Pretty soon Gabby might not miss her old life.
The flight attendant brightened. “Congratulations! That is so exciting!” She held up her hand to let them know to wait. After disappearing into the galley for a few seconds, she returned withtwo miniature bottles of champagne. The passengers in line behind them weren’t quite as excited. “What’s holding up the line?” someone griped.
“A wedding or something,” someone else answered, not sounding the least bit excited.
The flight attendant shook her head and smiled. “Have fun, you two.”
Once secured in seats 4a and 4b, Markus held his glass up and said, “To a successful… vacation.”
They clinked glasses. At the moment, it felt even better than a vacation, a vacation where they wouldn’t be pressured into signing up for zip line adventures, where she would end up standing in line with a woman from Chicago with the vague feeling they were all being swindled and possibly going to die. This was a vacation with purpose.
Giddy from champagne and flattery, Gabby’s optimism was lifting off faster than the plane. All the concerns of the last week already felt an ocean away, which they soon would be. She had not been fair to Markus this week. Well, she hadn’t been bad to him, but the work-wife thing—at the very least, she could have been clearer.
“Are you even sure it’s really a cult?” Gabby leaned in close and whispered. She’d listened to a podcast about cults and was leaning toward “It’s a cult” in the way Starbucks or Costco was a cult. Not every cult ended in a suicide pact. Some just left you with an overpriced latte and confusion over whether you’d just been had or you belonged to something that mattered.
“A cult?” someone repeated in an overly loud voice. “I used to be in a cult.”
Gabby gasped and glanced up to see a large woman who lookedlike she’d absolutely been through it. Her clothes were rumpled, her hair a mess. It looked like she’d rolled down a grassy hill fully dressed with her luggage before boarding the plane.
With a glance at her phone, the woman, who definitely projected just-out-of-a-cult said, “I think I’m in the window seat.”
