She continued, her expression one of gentle sympathy, like she was bestowing wisdom on a naïve and clueless child. “You met Courtney already, I see. And I’m old, but not too old not to know that you and my son developed a…friendship on this trip. But he mentioned it was just a fling.”
A fling.
I blinked. The words landed like a perfect bullseye. Piercing me in a way that threatened to drain away my hope.
“Nothing wrong with taking a little timeout, is there?” she said pleasantly. “Something that ultimately leads you back home—to the people who really matter.”
She smiled, but every word dripped with condescension. Step aside, sweetheart. She was back in control. Calm. Polite.
Her head tilted slightly. “You’ve had a difficult year... That episode.” She grimaced. “I can’t imagine how painful that must’ve been for you.”
The episode.
Of course, she’d seen it too. Probably more than once. Probably with the entire bus!
I squeezed the handle of my suitcase until my nails dug into my palm, forcing myself to stay steady. I could practically hear all the conversations that had been had about me. The whispers. The judgments. The knowing looks.
That did it.
“Noah’s not a spot of fun. And he’s definitely not a detour,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “He’s thoughtful. Compassionate. Kind. The kind of man who listens, who shows up, who cares.”
I held her gaze, letting the next part land.
“And with all due respect, you need to realize that he’s more than capable of deciding what he wants in his life.” Or whom.
Does she even know him?
I steadied myself, squeezing the handle of my suitcase until my nails dug into my palms.
For a moment, something flickered across her face. Doubt? Hesitation? It passed quickly, replaced with yet another smile that didn’t reach her eyes—the only kind I’d ever gotten from her.
“Well,” she said gently. “We all learn what we want in time. I think you’ll go home with more clarity, too. Sometimes a short-lived connection helps us find our way back to where we really belong.”
When she went to turn back to her suite, I reached out and touched her arm lightly.
“Do you know where Noah is?”
She paused. “Oh, he just stepped out. He’s getting champagne.”
“Champagne?”
“For the celebration,” she said sweetly.
A celebration.
I stood there for another beat, my breath trapped in my chest.
Had I misread everything?
Had I been the one falling while he was only...helping me land?
Was my time with Noah just another illusion too?
I backed away, my suitcase rolling softly over the carpet, an abstract design of brown, orange, yellows, and reds…meaningless swirls leading nowhere.
I didn’t remember pushing the button.
Didn’t remember the elevator ride down.
